Chapter Text
Ronald Bilius Weasley, like any average eleven-year-old, has his own daily worries.
One, there’s this guy in his science class who is not pulling his weight in their group project, which is horrible since Ron’s not that great at science and the only other person in the group spends class time scrolling on his phone.
Two, he’s late to pick up his sister from her after-school soccer practice. Bill’s off to college, Charlie’s at his part-time job, Percy has a student council meeting and the twins are at a friend’s house for group work and a sleepover. So, of course boring, never-has-anything-to-do Ron is the one who has to walk Ginny back home.
Three, apparently, Ron’s also not good at being aware of his surroundings. And dying just steps away from the school gates is not the most wicked place to die at. At least… he thinks he’s dying? Maybe he’s just being overdramatic as usual. He can feel his head cracking, under what he doesn’t know. There are people screaming, so at least that means his ears are working.
Ron tries to get up, but his hands won’t move. It’s like he just finished playing soccer with Fred and George, and he’s paying the cost on the garden grass. Maybe it’s because of his brain? The nervous system and all that not working? He can’t make out what people are saying anymore.
He feels fingers gripping his legs, cradling his head. He feels himself being lifted from the road gravel to something smoother. Ron tries to look around, but his head just isn’t turning.
Out of the corner of his right eye, he can see a bloody yellow bus. Literally. There’s red splattered on the front of the bus, blurry outlines of kids lining up outside of it.
Bloody hell, he just got hit by a bus.
…Does this mean he’s getting free tuition?
No, it doesn’t. Sadly, Ron does not wake up to his middle school principal by his hospital bed, offering him 100% tuition off of his school fees and a cancellation on every single one of his finals so that he wouldn’t sue the school or something. Instead, he wakes up to–
Orange.
Just orange.
Ron scrunches his nose and tries to sit up, but his arms fail him and he falls back onto the bed. It creaks under his weight, and he hisses out a curse when his back hits the metal slats through the mattress.
He writhes below the sheets, waiting the pain out through gritted teeth. The fact that his vision is also being violently attacked by the orange is not helping. And why is the wallpaper even moving?
It feels like forever before the pain mellows out and Ron can breathe again. He slowly– very slowly– sits up. His muscles ache, like the day after a phys ed exam, but he manages to lean his body against the metal headboard. So now he sees double the orange. Great.
Squinting, he realises the wallpaper isn’t moving, it’s the posters on it, which is still the same amount of weird. All the posters looked similar, showing the same group of people waving, throwing a ball, or in the air. One of the people in the posters turns to look at him and winks before flying off on a broom.
“What,” he mutters, empathetically, “the fuck.”
In the end, he falls asleep, because he does not have the brain cells to deal with… whatever he just got into.
But, now it’s the morning and he kind of has to deal with it.
Ron swings his feet off the bed and onto the floor, leaning forward to see the walls better. Just like what he saw last night. Posters upon posters of the same people… on brooms? And they’re moving? He rubs his eyes and stares again. No, yeah, they’re still there. Jesus Christ, what did he do in his past life to be subjected to the insane stan behaviour of the room’s owner. And being isekai-ed of all things.
He walks around the small bedroom, about the size of his own back home, though he does have to lean down a bit thanks to the sloped ceiling. Spellbooks with peeling covers and falling pages fill the small, sagging bookshelf next to his bed. Ron opens one up and frowns at the crossed out Bill, then Charlie, then Percy, then Fred on the first page.
Okay, so. He’s in the wizarding world. Harry Potter’s wizarding world. It’s going to be hell differentiating his family from the magic one. Back in his old world, his parents are major Potterheads, or whatever the fandom name is (Ron’s not that into it, okay?), and since their surnames just happened to be Weasleys (cause it’s an actual surname people can have that’s not associated with Harry Potter), they decided to name all their kids by the Weasley kids.
His poor little sister had to put up with those ‘shipping’ jokes every time she’s in a class with a ‘Harry’ in it, which is bloody often. Thank god he’s never met ‘Hermione’ before.
Well, that’s about to change.
There’s rapping on his door, distracting him from the Martin Miggs comic he’s reading from the floor. “Ron!” calls the voice that sounds so much like his Percy, all important and commanding. “Breakfast is ready!”
For once, breakfast’s the last thing Ron wants right now. Especially if that means he has to meet his ‘family’. Still, he waits until he hears magic Percy’s footsteps down the stairs, then walks out the room.
And it turns out he’s on the fifth floor of the fuckass magic house. Is this a house or a tower now? He takes a short breather after second flight of stairs and by the time he finally reaches the ground floor, his stomach is begging for something, and not just because he was hungry.
The scent of melted butter, sweet honey and roasted coffee envelopes the entire first floor. He follows his nose to his right and turned to rather cramped kitchen. When he steps inside, he has to step out again because Mrs. Weasley is floating down stacks of hot pancakes off of the pan and straight into the empty plates on the dinner table. Magic is real, and its being used to serving breakfast of all things.
“Well, don’t just stand there, Ron! Hurry up and eat.”
Ron just nods, slowly sitting down on an empty seat at the dining table, eyes taking in everything.
He’s actually here.
Mr. Weasley is reading the Daily Prophet, complete with moving black-and-white pictures and everything. Why are they still using black and white images if they’ve got magic? Surely if they can make moving pictures, they can make coloured prints.
His siblings look eerily similar to his own in his old world. He can pick out the twins (obviously) talking excitedly about something or other with Ginny snarking back while Percy, still the most normal person ever on the table even in the wizarding world, is eating breakfast. Bill and Charlie are nowhere to be seen, but he can imagine they must look the same as well.
Back to breakfast, because god– magic is actually real. And it’s being used for breakfast. Breakfast. Warm pancakes glide down to his plate, stacking themselves rather haphazardly, followed by a jug pouring syrup without anyone taking its handle. Napkin flew like birds, diagonally-creased in the center and flapping its fabric, on to the table, or straight up grabbed by one of the twins to wipe up a syrup spill on the table.
“Ron,” asks Mrs. Weasley, as she stacks up her own plate of pancakes, “Are you alright? You haven’t touched your pancakes dear.”
Ron grimaces at the look of genuine worry and care on her face. His stomach churns and suddenly he doesn’t want to eat anymore. “I’m fine,” he manages to say, pushing down the gurgle in his stomach, “I guess I’m just not feeling… up for it?” He pauses, then adds, “…mum?”
Oh my god (Merlin? Do wizards say oh my Merlin?), he cannot do this.
Apparently, that’s the wrong thing to say, because one of the twins sends him a concerned look, “Ronniekins? Not feeling hungry?”
“That’s the first I’ve heard,” chimes in the other twin.
“Are you feeling alright?” asks Percy sitting across from him.
He’s well and truly fucked, isn’t he?
But, Mrs. Weasley’s on him quickly, fussing over him, so he can’t really say he doesn’t like it.
Okay. He’s now Ronald Bilius Weasley, a wizard. No longer Ronald Bilius Weasley, who has nothing interesting going on for him.
Cool. Cool. Cool. Cool. Cool.
Once he’s waved through the whole ordeal of breakfast and making up some excuse about not feeling well, he’s back in his bedroom for some much-needed thinking.
First, he worries about his siblings at home. After Bill’s gone to university, it’s just Charlie, Percy, twins, him and Ginny at home. Mom and Dad aren’t always around to handle huge messes. He hopes Charlie picks up Ginny on the way to the hospital. Maybe Bill could come back for a few days to see him.
(From a dark corner of his mind, he wonders if his parents are even going to bother with a funeral.)
(Is it wrong for him to feel glad that he’s out?
… Even if his siblings aren’t?)
Secondly, he worries about the plot. Now, he isn’t the biggest fan of either Harry Potter or isekai stories, but he knows some things. Like that you can pirate both of them— okay, he’s joking here, please don’t actually sue Ron.
Since he’s likely still twelve, and Ginny was complaining about not going to Hogwarts yet, it means that he’s just about to start the first book, the one with the stone. See, he knows some things! Next, he needs to check if ‘canon events’ are a thing here, ‘cause if the universe is going to rewrite all major plot points to be exactly as it is, then Ron doesn’t have much to worry about. ‘S a pity that he’s not in those system isekais so that he has someone telling him what to do. Doubly so since he doesn’t remember most of the plot. So, he’s going to have to figure things out himself.
Oh well, Ron’s figured out many things by himself.
After combing around the room for something to write on, he comes up with a dusty, half-filled notebook full of whatever ‘quidditch’ is under his bed and a quill and a pot of ink. Go- Merlin. He’s going to have to learn how to write with a quill. What the fuuuu–
He hesitantly dips the quill in the ink pot and does his best to write neatly on the notebook.
CANON EVENTS OF YEAR 1
- Become besties with Harry Potter
- Sorting happens, both Gryffindors
- Troll? In the dungeon?
- Evil guy in turban reveals another more evil guy in turban
- Gryffindor wins
He stares at the list before nodding to himself. If he forgot something, that means it wasn’t important enough to mean anything in the long run.
September 1 is still a month away, so he plans to spend the time getting familiar with the wizarding world and people around him.
In this world, apparently, he doesn’t usually help with lunch prep. Moll– his mom had looked surprised when Ron offered to help, but she was quick to give Ron something to do in the kitchen. She went off on a tangent about how nice it is that someone in the family wants to help with food and can he “be a dear and cut the potatoes for the stew.”
His magical, wizarding parents are the only people he has to adjust to. His magical, wizarding siblings are just as unique as his own. Percy’s as studious as ever, Fred and George the prankster twins and Ginny’s as up to date with the wizarding version of pop culture. The most Ron can get about his magical, wizarding-self is that he likes one, losing quidditch team and being his normal, boring-self. Of course.
Life in the Weasley house, however, needs much getting used to. There’s the house itself being five different apartments glued together by magic and a dream. The first time Ron steps outside to get a good look at the house, he almost never wants to step inside of it ever again. Is the magic continuous? Or does Mr. Weasley have to redo the spells every few months, like a maintenance? Why are there five chimneys? What do they need five different fireplaces for? How on Earth did the franken-house get to this point?
Then there’s the weird quirks inside the house. The first time he hears the Weasley ghoul clanging, he screams. He was next to Percy that time who, startled, spilled his ink all over his notebook. Ron baked him a bunch of muffins in apology. This led to the twins begging him to make their own batch of muffins.
Every Saturday, he and his siblings go down to the gardens to ‘de-gnome’ it. A horrible chore, it is.
Whatever. Whatever.
Life in the wizarding world isn’t all bad, though. It’s nice having parents who are active in taking care of them. Mr. Weasley works for most of the day, but Ron still sees him so much more often than his own. And Mrs. Weasley’s the main chef in the house. The responsibility of cooking and feeding the rest of the family is no longer on Percy or Ron. It’s… yeah, really nice.
But he does love cooking, so he jumps at the chance to accompany Mrs. Weasley to the muggle markets. Magic is cool and everything, but he does want a sense of normality once in a while. Fred and George say he’s becoming a suck up. Ginny complains that he plays less and less with her. Ron feels a twinge of guilt, maybe he should play with her after the market… but what games do wizards play? Back home, he and Ginny bond over reading comic books and playing their cousins old Switch.
Mrs. Weasley hums a song as they walk down the hill to the market. ‘S a pity that the Weasleys were too morally righteous to duplicate muggle money and spend more money. And he’s sort of surprised that 1991s have convenience stores. Don’t blame him, okay! He had always assumed anything from the 1900s was way behind.
The bright lights of the convenience store hurt his eyes, even more so since he’s lived a whole week without electricity. It doesn’t seem to faze Mrs. Weasley, however, which means she goes here often. She’s muttering under her breath, about the grocery list, for Ron to look out for any discounts, telling him about how useful having sell-by-dates on groceries and how fascinating it is that muggles thought all these up.
Ron, who’s already pretty used to muggle stuff, nods along, keeping his eyes out for any bright, big, red writing of SALE. Since it’s early in the morning, there aren’t many people walking around grocery shopping. Which means it’s the ideal time to get some great steals.
They’re at the canned foods section with Mrs. Weasley when she starts talking about something else.
“You know, dear, that I’m grateful that you’re helping me with cooking and shopping,” she starts, eyeing the spam. “But, I’m getting worried.”
Ron stiffens. He keeps his eyes on the bolognese sauce. Man, he kind of wants spaghetti now. Maybe he can make lasagna some day?
“You haven’t played with Ginny in a while,” Mrs. Weasley continues, “And you also haven’t talked about that quidditch team you like.”
Huh, are those the magic people on his walls? Oh wow, the sauce is on a 10% discount.
Mrs. Weasley puts a hand on his shoulder and Ron nearly flinches away from the touch, before catching himself and plays it off as a shiver.
“Are you okay, Ronald?” she asks, gently and so full of warmth. He really, really wants to throw up.
“Yeah,” he manages, trying his best to give her a smile, but it probably comes out watery. “I think I need to go to the restroom… mum.”
“If you’re sure, dear. Oh, this is a muggle convenience store so the toilet might be a bit different, should I ask one of the workers–”
Ron waves her off. “It’s fine. I’ll be back in a sec.”
He nearly runs to the toilet sign.
Mrs. Weasley’s lining up at the cash register when Ron’s out of the restroom. They’ve got all of the things they need for groceries and a few more. Ron eyes the bolognese sauce in the mix. They could even make pizza!
Apparently Mrs. Weasley comes to this particular convenience store so often that the person manning the cash register knows who she is. Ron helps move the groceries along the cable while Mrs. Weasley fumbles with the pounds.
“Still no need for the membership, Mrs. Weasley?” asks the cash register person. Dave, his name tag reads. He’s tall, brown hair, and a smile that his boss most likely uses to get more people into the store. “With your loyal patronage, the groceries could come a bit cheaper.”
Mrs. Weasley laughs, making up some excuse about how “a little old lady like me won’t know a thing or two about that.” Ron, meanwhile, packs all the groceries in the big grocery bag that Mrs. Weasley brought, so that they don’t have to pay extra for plastic bags. While Mrs. Weasley’s too busy keeping count of the money used up for groceries, Dave leans over to him while he scans the barcodes.
“It’s nice of you to help your mom. I’ve always worried about her living alone in that old house,” he says.
Alone? That’s a first.
Ron just nods instead, and continues to help pack groceries.
“You’re a quiet kid, aren’t you,” continues Dave, not uncomfortable with the near lack of response, “I’ve never seen you around town before, and it’s a mighty small town.”
“Oh, Ron’s far from quiet,” says Mrs. Weasley, eyes off the counter to ruffle his hair. “But he is a bit more on the calm side.”
Dave gives a chuckle as he scans the final item, the bolognese sauce. “Your total will be four hundred and forty five pounds,” he says. Then, he adds, “Do you know my brother, Dennis? Maybe you guys go to school together?”
Definitely not.
Still, Ron pretends to know who that is. Mrs. Weasley looks a little uneasy.
“Well, he’s also a bit on the calm side, and he’s just been in his room all summer long. Maybe you two can be friends?”
Mrs. Weasley looks ready to reject the offer, which would be the smart thing to do since he’s a wizard and fraternising with muggles at a young age when can’t control his magic quite well is not the best idea. But, he’s kind of getting sick of having to ask Mrs. Weasley to turn the highlighter yellow hair he woke up to, back to ginger. And he’s also sick of the Weasley ghoul that they (for some reason) can’t get rid of.
“Sure,” he says, not thinking all too deeply. “When is he free?”
Mr. Weasley looks particularly excited about this playdate. He keeps info dumping about how muggles act and their habits and Ron can’t shake off the feeling like he’s being dissected. As if he were a very interesting bug. Which is weird since he’s a wizard now, not a muggle anymore.
“Oh, can you ask them the function of a rubber duck?” asks Mr. Weasley, eyes glowing bright and hopeful.
Ron looks at him seriously, before nodding. “Sure.. dad.” Look, he’s trying. It’s not often he says ‘dad’ or ‘mum’ in his old world, so calling totally different people isn’t the most comfortable thing to do.
At breakfast the next day, Fred and George try roping him into pranking the kid. Unfortunately, they did so while Mrs. Weasley’s still in the room so they’ve got an earful about it.
“Now, Ron,” she says, turning her attention back to him, “You’re going to be polite and respectful. Under no circumstances will you be scaring the boy, okay?”
“Yes, mum,” says Ron.
“Why does the muggle boy get to play with Ron,” complains Ginny, mouth full of toast and jam, “We haven’t played Exploding Snap in ages.”
Ron seriously wants to ask what Exploding Snap is, whether it really explodes, and whether ten year olds should be playing with that kind of thing.
“Aww Ginny, are you jealous?” teases Fred (or George?).
“It’s okay, we can play with you later,” continues George (or Fred?).
“What you two should be doing is finishing your summer homework,” reprimands Percy, “and Ginny, swallow before you talk. I can play with you if you want.”
“Gee, thanks mum,” says Fred, rolling his eyes.
Mrs. Weasley huffs, “You know, you can take a leaf out of your brother’s books! You’re students! You should be studying.”
“Right. Dear Perfect Prefect Percy,” says George, “Hey, why does Ron get to go out and play when he’s also a student?”
Ron blinks at him. “Because I’m technically not a student? I go to school in September.”
“But Ickle Ronniekins!” exclaims Fred, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, “You’re going to be a firstie! The most important year of all! Isn’t that right, George?”
“Of course,” the other agrees eagerly, “First impressions are everything! We told you right? You have to fight a troll to get sorted. We can’t have you losing in the Sorting Ceremony!”
Fred nods enthusiastically. “Or you’ll get sorted into…” he lowers his voice, almost whispering, “Slytherin.”
“That’s enough you two,” says Mrs. Weasley, standing up. “Ron, dear, are you done? You’re meeting that muggle boy at 10.”
Ron nods, picking up his empty plate as well as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s. “I can wash these before we go.”
“Can you wash mine as well, Ron?” asks Fred (?) “I can finish this fast before you go.”
Ron rolls his eyes. “Go wash it yourself.”
“Mum! Ron’s not being fair!”
“Can’t you just wash it with magic?” asks Ginny, “why would you need Ron to wash it?”
“You’re right! Ron, nevermind, we don’t need you anymore!”
“What did I tell you about magic outside of school?!”
“Remember to be polite. If you don’t know what he’s talking about, just nod along. Don’t follow a strange man into a car. Oh, I haven’t told you what a car was–”
Ron pats Mrs. Weasley on the back, trying to calm her down. “It’s okay, mum, I know what to do.”
Mrs. Weasley wavers. Ron’s kind of scared that she’s going to cry, which is weird because why would she cry omg he’s just going to meet some kid in a bookstore. “You’re growing up so quickly, Ron,” says Mrs. Weasley, ruffling his hair, “stay safe, alright? Don’t forget to get back home for lunch.”
“Yes, mum.”
The bookstore is rather small. Which makes sense since Ron lives in a rather small town. There’s a few people around, most occupying the computer area, others walking around browsing the shelves or sleeping on bean bags. Ron makes his way towards the comic book section. Well, his favourite comics haven’t been published, so might as well try some new things.
As Ron had been told, Dennis (who looks like the spitting image of his brother minus the smile) is there, reading ‘The Infinity Gauntlet’. Ron stifles a laugh. Mr. Stark, I don’t feel so good.
He picks up the same comic beside the boy. “Hi, you’re Dennis, right?”
Dennis looks up from the comic. He doesn’t seem to look too happy to see him. “You’re the guy my brother told me to meet,” he says. He turns his attention back to his comic. “I keep telling him I’m fine being alone but he just can’t help butting himself can’t he?”
Ron raises an eyebrow at the pure annoyance in the other boy’s tone. Look, he just wanted to get away from magical pranking for a day, okay? No need to trauma dump on him.
“Okay,” is all he says, since what else can he say, really. He flips through the Infinity Gauntlet comic, then pauses. “Who’s Silver Surfer?”
That catches Dennis’ attention again. “What?”
Ron shows him the page he’s at. Some Silver Surfer guy crash landed on Doctor Strange’s place. He’s not the most avid Marvel fan, sure, but he’s pretty sure this Silver Surfer guy wasn’t in any of the movies.
“You don’t know Silver Surfer?” asks Dennis, horrified.
“I don’t read comics much?” replies Ron, though he accidentally makes it sound like a question. “At least not superhero comics.” Look, manga’s just easier to find for free and on the internet. Have they been imported to the UK yet?
Dennis snorts. “What other comics are there to read? Here, let me find a Silver Surfer comic so that you can learn true magic.”
Ron, again, stifles a laugh, but follows the boy around the comic book areas. Is this how you make friends? He’s gotta perfect the ‘being-besties’ method for Harry Potter after all.
A comic book is pushed into his hands. The Coming of Galactus, the title reads.
“Best place to start Silver Surfer,” says Dennis, looking proudly at the comic, “Didn’t think the store would still have it, so you’re pretty lucky.”
“Silver Surfer isn’t on the cover,” comments Ron.
“ ‘Cause he appears in the story later,” says Dennis, rolling his eyes. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go on and read. No way am I being friends with someone who doesn’t know the magic of superhero comics.”
“Haha, sure. Give me a sec.”
Yeah, overall, Ron would say the playdate’s a great success! Especially since Dennis made him promise to go back in two days’ time so he can make Ron read more comics. Ron wonders how Dennis would react to Martin Miggs. Maybe he can experience true magic.
Oh, he forgot to ask about rubber ducks! Well, whatever, he knows what it’s for anyway.
The next day, he plays with Ginny and Percy. Ginny wants to play Exploding Snap again, so Ron turns to Percy, asking, “Can you remind me of the rules, again?”
Percy gives him a weird look. “Ron, we’ve played this so many times.”
Well, fuck, Percy. I’m sorry I forget things. “You always remember game rules, Percy?” He asks.
Percy frowns, “There’s no need to be so–”
“You guys are taking too long,” says Ginny, rolling her eyes, “Ron, since you’ve got the memory of a grandma, I’ll tell you.”
“How nice of you, Ginny.”
After three hours of straight gaming, where Ron nearly screams when the cards actually explode and Ginny beats everyone all the time, they finally take a break. Ron stands up, getting ready to help in the kitchen.
Ginny looks up at him, frowning. “Since when did you like cooking?”
Since I isekai-ed into your brother’s body, duh.
Ron shrugs in reply. “I’ve always liked cooking, and feeding seven people is a hassle to do alone.” He knows this from experience, and also common sense.
“Suit yourself, I’m going to find the twins.”
“It’s very good that you’re helping mum, Ron,” says Percy, ruffling his hair. What is up with Weasleys and ruffling hair? “I’ll go back to my room and prepare for the semester. Prefect duties and everything.”
“Sounds fun,” replies Ron, “Good luck?”
Percy sniffs rather haughtily. “It’s more work than fun, but I appreciate the sentiment.”
“Yeah, yeah. Go do your Prefect things.”
He usually sees Dennis in the bookstore every two days. But that day, Ron couldn’t find the boy anywhere. Maybe he’s finally gotten tired. Ron shrugs. He gets to explore the other comic books besides Marvel superhero ones.
Ron finds himself in the manga section. He’s even surprised they have a manga section. Sure, he doesn’t know any of the works, but that’s pretty cool. Wait, is that–
He spots a familiar robot-slash-car on the cover.
Transformers?
Yeah, no competition, he’s reading that.
Ron walks around trying to find a comfortable spot to read. Most of the bean bags were already taken, unfortunately. Maybe he should come here earlier. If he’d known that Transformers was here, he’d come here everyday to read–
“Uhm.. Weasley?”
Ron startles, turning immediately. Very, very few people knew him in this muggle town. So, who on Earth–
The guy who called his name waves a little, smiling bright and suddenly the room looks a little less dingy. “No need to be so worried. Uhm– I’m Cedric, Cedric Diggory,” the older boy gives him his hand to shake.
On autopilot, Ron shakes his hand. He’s shaking hands with Cedric Diggory. He’s shaking hands with Edward Cull–
“Do you glitter in the sunlight or is that just my eyes?”
“H– huh?”
Look, it’s not Ron’s fault! The guy does look like he blooms flowers and glows wherever he goes!
Cedric must have found him funny, since he chuckles. “You are a Weasley, right? I’m a year above the twins, Hufflepuff.”
“Oh, yeah. I’m Ron Weasley,” says Ron, “I’m going in September, but I’ll probably be a Gryffindor.”
“Weasley and Gryffindors, huh?” Cedric’s grin is blinding, Ron should’ve brought sunglasses. “Is this your first time in town?”
Ron shakes his head. “I’ve been to the supermarket before, and I go here sometimes.”
Cedric nods. “Have you been anywhere else?”
“Uhhh…. No?”
“I can show you around,” offers Cedric, “I don’t see a lot of wizards around here, so it’d be fun if we could walk together.”
Ron kind of wants to turn him down (he’s got a 1980s Transformers comic in his hands!) but one look at Cedric’s face has him putting the book down. He’ll just go back for it later.
“Sure,” says Ron, “Where do you want to go?”
Cedric’s sunshine smile turns even brighter.
Ron sorely missed having free time like this. He can’t stroll around when he’s in the Weasley house. There isn’t much good land to stroll around for in the first place, and the backyard is always infested with gnomes. Even back then, he rarely could spend time just walking around the neighbourhood he lived in.
So, walking around with Cedric pointing out popular cafes, restaurants and shops is relaxing. The older brought him to his favourite spot in the town, a semi-popular coffee shop just ten minutes away from the bookstore. The guy’s even nice enough to pay for Ron’s tea! (He wanted to get coffee but Cedric said he was too young for that.)
They got a quiet corner in the back of the coffee shop, most of the patrons sitting up front, so Ron got comfortable.
“You go to town often?” asks Ron, taking a sip from his tea. The woman at the counter was familiar enough with Cedric that she knew his regular drink: Java Chip Frappuccino with extra chocolate.
Cedric takes a sip of his overly sweet drink. He nods. “Dad’s not too good with ‘all the muggle stuff’,” says Cedric, doing air quotes, “So, I usually buy the groceries. And it’s fun, seeing how the other side lives.” His eyes light up. “Those mobile phones that they have sound incredible. Much faster communication than owls.”
Ron scrunches his face. “Wizards don’t have anything like that?”
“Uhm, pardon?”
“Instant communication,” explains Ron, “Wizards– ah I mean we don’t have anything like that?”
The older boy looks at him in confusion. “Ron, we’ve only ever used owls? Though, if you want faster communication, you can use falcons.”
“Why haven’t we thought up instant communication,” Ron thinks aloud, “Like, I don’t know how phones work since I don’t work for in an Apple Store–
“Apple Store?”
“—But, like, we can teleport, right? Shouldn’t moving our voice, or teleporting our letters if we still wanna write that– be easier than that?”
Cedric blinks at him. Takes a big sip of his frappuccino. Blinks at him again. “Well… I’m not sure I’m the right person to ask that. But hmm…” Cedric mulls over it again, while Ron takes a sip of his own. “You’re going to Hogwarts in a few weeks, right? You could ask Professor Flitwick, our Charms professor. He might have the answer.”
Ron nods. The two sit in comfortable silence, drinking from their own cups and enjoying the quiet ambience of the store. Then, Ron remembers something–
“How would you fight a troll, Cedric?” asks Ron idly. As if he were asking how he thought the weather was like.
Cedric laughs, amused. “You’re a funny guy, Ron.”
Ron shakes his head. “That’s the twins. So, troll? What’s your game plan?”
It’s late when Ron gets back to the Weasley home and he has to calm down a furious Mrs. Weasley.
“If you’re going to wander out for longer, you should’ve told me!” she exclaims while fiercely grating the carrots.
Ron gulps and turns to anyone else in the room for help. The twins send him matching grinning faces, obviously enjoying the show. Ginny’s also trying to stifle a grin. Mr. Weasley isn’t home yet and Percy just looks at him disapprovingly.
“Sorry, mum,” he tries, “I was with Cedric and I lost track of time.”
“Cedric? Now, who’s this Cedric? Weren’t you with that muggle boy– now, what was his name again, Dennis?”
Ron pours a litre of vegetable stock into the large saucepan. “Cedric Diggory, mum. A Hufflepuff in Fred and George's year. He was telling me about Hogwarts.”
He doesn’t see Percy stiffen slightly.
Mrs. Weasley raises the fire temperature slightly, letting the soup simmer. “Well, I suppose that’s fine. But, next time–” she raises the carrot in her hand at Ron, “You better tell me if there are any changes. I can’t be home worrying if my little boy’s lost in the muggle city alone.”
“Yes, mum.”
With a wave of her wand, Mrs. Weasley blends the choppy soup smoothly. God, Ron needs to learn that.
The next few days leading up to September pass by relatively peacefully. He plays a little more with Ginny, familiarising himself with old magic games like Exploding Snap, Gobstone and Summoner’s Court. He once dug around his room and found a set of Wizard’s Chess which he got to play around with. And apparently, he’s bloody good at it since the only person who would play with him was Percy.
Occasionally, he goes into town to meet up with Dennis who was sick that one time he didn’t come. On other days, he meets up with Cedric who tells him all about Hogwarts and magic and even lent him his first-year notes! What a great guy!
He says as much at the dinner table that day. Mr. Weasley says it’s nice of the boy to give it to him. The twins call him a nerd, though with no malice. Percy frowns slightly and the very next day hands him a pile of his own first year notes, talking about since he’s the brother of the Gryffindor prefect so he has to have good grades. Ron takes it gratefully, because the serious look on Percy’s face is rather terrifying.
That’s not the only thing Percy gifted him.
A week before September (meaning Hogwarts, meaning Harry, meaning plot–), Percy hands him a rat. While Ron’s first instinct is to hand it back towards him (because who wants to take care of a rat), Percy says he “thought you might want a pet of your own now that you’re a first year” so he receives it gracefully because, wow, brotherly bond. That’s something he misses.
(Sometimes, Ron wakes up in the dead of night, heart racing. He remembers Charlie teaching him how he had calmed Ron down when he was little, in case Ron needed to know that when he started his babysitting job. He curls himself back into bed, shivering.)
It’s only back when he’s in his room (go– Merlin, he needs to throw out the orange) staring at his new pet rat, Scabbers, that he remembers the little rodent’s plot relevant.
He gives the rat a long and hard stare.
“What do I do with you,” he mutters to himself. The rat squeaks, probably terrified out of its mind.
First, he asks Mrs. Weasley about Scabbers’ age.
“He’s been around in the family for a while, dear, you should know this,” says Mrs. Weasley as she fries the bacon. “I think Percy got it when he was six? Or seven? He found the poor dear in the backyard and asked if he could keep him.”
Ron hums in reply, frying eggs on another pan. “So, he’s been alive for about ten years?”
“Right, I suppose so.”
“… I think rats only live for two years, mum.”
Mrs. Weasley frowns, flipping the bacon. “Now that’s strange. Ron, can you be a darling and set the table?”
“…Alright, mum.”
The next person– or well persons in this case– he talks to are the twins.
“Which do you reckon’s more unbelievable, Gred? An immortal rat or an evil rat?”
“Why, Forge, I’d say they’re both mighty unbelievable.”
“Well it’s both,” says Ron. He’s holding Scabbers by his tail since the thing’s desperately trying to get out of his reach. “Can you do something about it?”
The twins shrug. Ron tries not to look too disappointed. They’re only second years moving up to third years after all.
Asking Percy about his evil, immortal rat just after he gave it to him sounds a bit rude, so Ron’s last option is asking Mr. Weasley. Ginny isn’t even supposed to be doing magic so she gets crossed off early.
So, when Mr. Weasley comes down for breakfast while everyone else (except for Mrs. Weasley of course) is asleep, Ron drops the bomb on him. “I think Percy’s rat is a person.”
Mr. Weasley spits out the coffee he was drinking. Thank Merlin Mrs. Weasley’s too busy doing the final touches to breakfast in the kitchen to scold him. Ron hands him a stack of tissues that the other man gratefully takes some to pat down the front of his shirt.
“Ri- right, what’s this about an Animagus, Ron?”
Ron dutifully presents the rat he’s held captive for the past few days. “Mum says he’s been alive for more than ten years, which should be impossible since rats only live for two years. I read about that in a muggle book,” he explains, “So, either Scabbers is immortal or he’s a person pretending to be an animal. Is that what they call an animagus?”
Scabbers squeals at the mention of the word. It’s not really helping his case.
Mr. Weasley keeps staring at the rat, so Ron swings Scabbers by the tail like a pendulum. Maybe he can hypnotise Mr. Weasley into using whatever spell needed to de-animal him.
“Ron– stop that, you’re hurting poor Scabbers– if I use the spell will it help you sleep at night?”
Ron nods vigorously.
Ten minutes later, they’ve got Aurors pulling up at the Weasleys’ house. Percy’s screaming about having the Peter guy on his bed for ten years, Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Weasley’s talking with the Aurors about what happened, Ginny’s just gotten out of her bedroom half asleep, and the twins look at the breakfast scene, mouth agape.
Ron, on the other hand, has other things to worry about. Since the universe isn’t pulling any strings to reverse this totally important canon event that should have happened in the third movie, this means he’s only got himself to rely on.
Bloody hell, he’s got his work cut out for him.