Chapter Text
Ron was too small to remember the fuss his parents made over Bill or Charlie’s sorting. He was three when Charlie went off to school and even smaller when his eldest brother started his first year. When he was a little older, he knew there were four Houses funded by four great witches and wizards. But the only House that mattered to him was Gryffindor – everyone in his family was a Gryffindor. It wasn’t until Charlie finished his first year did it all make sense; Bill and Charlie were recounting some of their favorite memories they hadn’t shared in letters at dinner, and Percy began to fidget with a stray thread on his jumper.
Percy was a few years short of his first year and the topic of his future House was up for debate. Their mother, ever observant, reached across to ease Percy’s worries with a gentle caress against his cheek. The twins were not as encouraging.
“He’ll probably be a Hufflepuff seeing as he’s a giant bore,” Fred snickered over his supper.
“No no, Ravenclaw! He’s such a know-it-all!” George countered. Molly pinched both their ears until they settled. Percy made a nasty face at the boys, although Ron couldn’t understand why it was such an issue.
“Don’t we all go to Gryffindor? How could Percy be in another House?” The twins both frowned at Ron. He knew he was going to get an earful when George opened his mouth, but Bill nudged his right arm and made his fork tumble to the floor.
“Nah, Ronnie. There are four Houses for a reason,” said Charlie. “We all get sorted based on who we are. One of my best mate’s in Hufflepuff! Remember my letter about the boy who caught fire to his course book? That was Dominic!” Ron’s brows scrunched in confusion.
“But if that’s the case, wouldn’t Percy be a Gryffindor? He’s a Weasley and you’re a Weasley. You, Bill, Mum, and Dad were all in Gryffindor!” Charlie seemed stumped at that. He opened his mouth, then waved his knife around as he gathered his thoughts.
“Er, yes but it’s not that literal… It’s more on your personality, I guess? See, Ravenclaws are really clever –”
“That’s one way to put it…”
“Fred! Not another word out of you,” Fred slumped defiantly in his chair. The seam of his lips went thin under his mother’s reproachful gaze. “Please continue, Charlie.”
“Well, Ravenclaws are super smart. The smartest witches and wizards come from that House! Hufflepuffs are honest and fair, Gryffindors are s’posed to be brave, and Slytherins are ambitious and cunning,” Ron noticed Charlie rolled his eyes at the last comment. “Or whatever that means.”
The meal went on without further interruption. Bill ruffled Percy’s hair when he dropped his bowl into the sink and insisted Percy would make a fine Gryffindor, which made the younger boy relax considerably. Ron was still quite confused by the conversation once the family retreated to the living room, pondering about Charlie’s observations. He picked at the old rug while his family busied themselves with talk.
Suddenly, green flames crackled in the fireplace; his grandparents were flooing in for their weekly Burrow visit. A moment later, Septimus and Cedrella Weasley shuffled from the hearth, holding a hefty lacquered game board with small treats and gifts balanced on top. Ron leapt from his spot, thrilled to see gifts but his eyes eagerly darted from his grandfather’s face to the board in his hands.
“Hello to you too, Ronald!” Grandad Septimus was a tall fellow despite his great age. He had deep lines on his temple and although the wispy hair on his head was white, his eyebrows were bright red like Ron’s hair. Ron could even see a bit of his father in the face despite the large muttonchops that framed Septimus’ jawline. “Care to watch a game of chess?”
“And that, my boy, is how you win!”
Ron looked at the chessboard before him with awe. He marveled over his grandfather’s chess sets, but it was truly a treat when Septimus brought his enchanted board and pieces. The boy beamed at the red queen as she dusted off fallen bits of ivory from her seat. What remained of the white knight groaned and snorted indignantly. This, Ron knew, was one of his grandfather’s prized possessions.
“You always win, Dad.” Arthur huffed. There was a smile in his voice though, and he repaired the fallen pieces with a soft-spoken charm. He sighed dramatically at the white pieces grumbling over his poor strategy – Ron caught the quick wink when he looked back at his father. “Bit of a shame I never caught on to this game.”
“Ah, no matter. You still make me proud, lad! But Ron would make me quite happy if he beat your winning margin!” Septimus jostled the small boy on his knee and Ron laughed in delight.
Even though he was four, Ron tried to follow the rules of the game the best he could. He originally took to it because the magicked pieces fascinated him. Sometimes his grandfather would act out silly voices as his pieces took his opponents. Ron found himself whooping alongside Bill when he managed a well-placed move against their grandfather. Eventually, he wanted to know the warmth and satisfaction of winning a difficult game. It was also an excuse to sidle up next to his grandfather, whom always spoke to Ron as if he was grown like his older brothers and not an ickle, wittle baby.
A thought suddenly overtook him while his father wiped the chessboard down. Did he lose because he wasn’t a Ravenclaw? Ron certainly thought he was smart, yet he was a Gryffindor after all. But that couldn’t be right – Bill was top of his class and still a Gryffindor!
“Grandad, did Dad lose because he’s a Gryffindor?” The question made Septimus pause. “Charlie says Ravenclaws are clever, but Dad never makes clever moves against you –”
“Ronald!” Ron flinched at his mother’s tone. However, both his father and grandfather gave hearty laughs at the comment. Arthur held up his hands in surrender and grinned at Molly to show no harm was done.
“What’s brought this on?” Septimus asked. “Gryffindors can be quite clever you know!”
“Well… I thought all Weasleys were Gryffindors. Since Mum, Dad, Bill and Charlie were put in Gryffindor… But Fred and George said Percy might not be…” Ron spoke quietly for his brother’s sake, but Percy wasn’t paying any mind to the conversation. He was too busy sidestepping around Fred and Ginny’s sprawled bodies on the floor, a giggling George chasing him with ash covered hands he dipped into the fireplace mantle.
“Merlin’s beard… Where’s the time gone? Percy will be at Hogwarts soon!”
“So is it true? Percy may not be a Gryffindor?” Ron sat at his grandfather’s feet now. His eyes searched for answers in Septimus’ expression, just as anxious as Percy had been hours ago. He suddenly looked much larger, intimidating even, as he gave Percy an appraising stare.
Would it be so bad if Percy wasn’t a Gryffindor? His parents taught them to be open-minded and never prejudiced. Ron knew his father worked with all sorts of people at the Ministry of Magic and some of his favorite coworkers were from other Houses. Besides, it sounded as a high compliment to Percy’s mental fortitude if he was put into Ravenclaw. The only trouble Ron could think of was Percy wouldn’t be in the same House as his older brothers – he might be lonely or want the comfort of family on a bad day...
Ron was brought out of his thoughts when Septimus gave a rumbling hum. He squinted for a brief second at Percy before a warm smile spread across his features. The churning in Ron’s stomach slowed. His parents were a good judge of character and he knew that had to have come from his grandfather’s own impressions.
“Percy is certainly very intelligent for his age,” Septimus said slowly. “Ravenclaw would be a wonderful House... But you know Weasleys have nerve and a fiery kind of determination. Why, I don’t think he’d manage Fred and George much if he didn’t have it in him.” There was a perfectly timed squawk from George; Percy rounded on him fiercely with a throw cushion, making Fred and Ginny cheer excitedly at the commotion. “He’s a proud Gryffindor at heart!”
Ron smiled weakly. His brother still might be a Ravenclaw though.
“Don’t worry your little head,” said Cedrella. She sat within earshot near Arthur and her husband’s game. “Even if Percy doesn’t become a Gryffindor, any House would be lucky to have him. He’d be a happy student in all the Houses.”
“Of course you would say that, darling. You didn’t seem too bothered from the other side of the Great Hall…” Cedrella shot a playful look at her husband. That didn’t make sense – what did his grandfather mean? Ron tugged expectantly on his pants, demanding to be let in on the secret. “You see, Ron, your Nana was a Slytherin when she was your brothers’ age –”
Ron gasped. The twisting in his stomach came back full force. His grandfather laughed, smoothing his hair back with kindness in his eyes.
“But she’s perfectly lovely, isn’t she? Being in one House or another doesn’t matter much – it’s up to you to decide what you want to do with your talents, my boy.”
The night ended with Molly scolding her younger children for making a mess and sending them off to bathe. Ron, who felt the familiar tug of sleep in his eyes, resisted his father’s attempts of pulling him off the couch. He whined because he wanted to spend more time playing and talking with his grandparents but melted immediately in his father’s arms. The talk of sortings was all in the past and he slept peacefully to the night sounds around the Burrow.
~*~
There were a handful of times after that where Ron pondered which Houses he and his remaining siblings would be in. He was sure Fred and George would be Slytherins; the twins’ magic would often manifest in cruel pranks at Ron’s expense. The morning he woke up with a giant, wriggling spider in his arms than his worn teddy bear scarred Ron tremendously. The twins hid their satisfied smirks behind their hands when Molly screeched at their childish behavior. Ron didn’t think they were very noble or chivalrous for that.
Ginny was timid every so often. She hid behind their mother’s skirt whenever they visited Diagon Alley for supplies or spoke very quietly to people who stopped the family for friendly chitchat. Other times she was just as bad as Fred and George, flinging mud at Ron when they tended to the garden and quick to cry if Ron so much as bumped into her shoulder. She knew right away she was Godric’s given gift in their mother’s eyes and used it to her advantage. Her antics bothered Ron nonstop but he thought she’d probably be a Gryffindor in the end.
Percy was a mystery to him; he would sit underneath the shade of the apple trees reading Bill or Charlie’s old course books. Percy seemed to enjoy correcting his younger siblings if they said something foolish (it was rather annoying), and he warmed up considerably to the idea of being in Ravenclaw. “Well I am very clever, aren’t I?” he would declare pompously, but Ron knew he would probably say the same if he was bright like Percy.
Grandad Septimus was right to believe he had the Gryffindor flair once they received Percy's letter days after he left the Burrow. Ron could see the pride radiate from his parents as they read the news. Bill and Charlie wrote home with similarly pleased letters. Ron was happy too, but he wondered if his family would be disappointed to see the rest of them in different Houses. It was one thing to have friends in other Houses but another thing entirely to be something other than your family’s expectations.
He felt better knowing Nana Cedrella was a Slytherin. He was quick to assume the worst of Slytherins based off his brothers’ letters home (‘There’s this real nasty git, Daniel Wishbourne, from Slytherin – tried to sabotage the Ravenclaw game by hexing their Seeker. He ended up flying into a goal post! Tosser.’) and the harsh criticisms his father had for an annoying man at work (Malady? Mafey? He couldn’t remember the name). But his Nana – a Slytherin! – snuck him treats when his mum was too busy with Ginny, did her best to encourage Ron’s avid interest in chess, and most importantly, she was unbelievably kind.
Ron was surprised to find out later she had sisters that were Slytherins as well but knew not to press further the moment her smile would falter. None of her stories were sad though. She spoke fondly of her time at Hogwarts and the mischief she got into sounded no worse than the jokes Fred and George played on him. The dread over his own sorting would disappear after he spoke to his grandparents. They never gave the impression Ron’s worth, or any of his siblings for that matter, was based on the House he was in. They were a solid source of comfort for Ron and he couldn’t imagine growing into a fine young man without their guidance.
That’s why it was a great shock when Septimus and Cedrella Weasley passed several weeks after the eldest boys finished another year of Hogwarts.
Ron and his father took it the hardest. Arthur spent some time away from work to busy himself in his workshop and Ron hid in his room for hours at a time. He would wake up to the sounds of his father trudging across the garden and would not see him again until it was well past dinner. Ron would sit on his bed with his grandfather’s enchanted chess pieces fighting amongst themselves, occasionally glancing out the window to see if his father had left the shed.
It was three weeks before Arthur joined them for lunchtime picnics again and another week until he went back to the ministry. Ron felt better in time as well but missed his grandparents' presence in his life. They made time for him and though he knew his mum loved him dearly, she often fell short in quelling his insecurities as the final Weasley boy. She kissed his head and hugged him when he cried, but it was a struggle for attention and she was quick to sing praises for her other children. Ron was special to his grandparents. Never an afterthought.
Perhaps Ron felt overshadowed by his siblings’ individuality. Sometimes, he would find himself alone in the garden to think about what made him unique. He couldn’t think of many talents besides the affinity for chess he’d developed over the years. It’s not like he could send an owl to the Headmaster and say he was a fantastic chess player at seven-years-old. Just because his grandfather taught him to be strategic and observant didn’t mean he was very brilliant. He wasn’t levelheaded like Bill and he couldn’t tell if he was as friendly as Charlie since the only friends he had were his brothers and sister.
If anything, Ron was quite brash. Fred provoked his temper often and they would be rolling in the grass with fists flying and tears shed. He bickered constantly with Ginny over toys, clothes, playing – you name it. George had an awful habit of jabbing Ron’s side if he was being particularly curt with Ginny, which happened more often than he’d like to admit.
Ron’s anxiety over Hogwarts took him by storm once the twins finally left for their first year. They were both in Gryffindor with the rest of the Weasley boys – Ron was positive they’d be something else entirely! He loved Fred and George dearly but as his understanding of Houses grew, he thought they were more cunning than honorable. His apprehension over his future House eclipsed whatever shame he had for doubting his brothers. There wasn’t a House for painfully ordinary boys with bad tempers last he checked.
Bill set off for Egypt shortly after they returned from school. He finished Hogwarts with flying marks and all sorts of recommendations from his professors, so his acceptance as a Curse Breaker for Gringotts was a great achievement to the family. To no one’s surprise, Charlie finished school the following year for a dragon-handling apprenticeship in Romania.
Ron revered them so much that they felt worlds apart. Charlie was everything he wanted to be – Quidditch captain, Prefect, cool – and his favorite sibling leagues above the rest. Ron wasn’t very close to Bill but was spooked at how well Bill read his moods and body language (maybe they had Seer roots in their blood). They both made a real effort to write to their youngest brother because they could see Ron grow more anxious as time went on. With his age came Ron’s understanding of the world, and he quickly realized he didn’t like wearing his brothers’ hand me downs, didn’t like that they ate the same meals often since it was the only thing available, and didn’t like how he struggled to be noticed.
‘Thought you might like my wand,’ Charlie wrote in a letter the week they did their shopping for Ron’s first year. ‘It took care of me and I hope it takes care of you. Treat it well. Thinking of you, Charlie.’
The thought was appreciated but it wasn’t Ron’s. Wands were supposed to feel special to the yielder, right? He didn’t complain when his mum handed him the wand, but he noted how its core started to poke out from one end, the wood cold and rough in his palm.
He received a similar letter from Bill. ‘Mum says you’re getting tall! She’s lucky Fred and George haven’t gone through their growth spurt yet,’ Ron looked up from the parchment to the robes on his bed; they were slightly worn and he could see some tears stitched inconspicuously. ‘My school robes should do just fine. You’ll probably be taller than me when I come back from Egypt! Good luck this year, Bill. PS, don’t worry about the sorting and don’t listen to whatever rubbish the twins tell you.’
Again, Ron appreciated the thought but noticed the robes reached midway down his forearms and his pants grazed the top of ankles. The only silver lining was the clothes smelled of Bill. He ridiculously hoped some of Bill’s charm would rub off if he wore the uniform all year.
Ron wasn’t sure if his other siblings sensed his nervous energy leading up to September 1st as they steered clear of his temper, choosing not to antagonize Ron and focusing on their own devices. Fred and George were still prats from time to time but were more involved with scheming up tricks for their friends and school professors. Percy, who was named Gryffindor Prefect that year, was too busy to nag on any of his younger siblings – he’d rather admire the shiny badge on his chest and “gently” remind everyone of his newly appointed role. Ginny was softer, giving Ron pressed flowers from the garden or leaving an extra biscuit at his bedside table in the morning.
She was glued to Ron when she wasn’t holding her mother’s hand to Platform 9¾. It was almost sweet, if it hadn’t been the vice grip on his little fingers that made Ron worry whether he’d be able to wave his wand properly for the next few days. Ginny had a watery smile watching the twins tease Percy and Ron after they loaded their trunks onto the train. Her glassy eyes shed heavy tears once the conductor gave a warning whistle to board the train.
“Don’t, Ginny, we’ll send you loads of owls.” They each took turns hugging their sister. Fred used his sleeve to soak up her tears.
“We’ll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat.”
“George.”
“Only joking, Mum.”
The boys scattered before Molly could chastise them further and Ginny sobbed/laughed as they hopped on the train. Ron watched his mother and sister until they were out of sight, feeling that familiar rush of anxiety sweep through. He wanted to laugh and cry too if he was being honest; he was finally going to Hogwarts to make something of himself and the thought made him equally parts excited and scared. His brothers didn’t spare him a thought while he mulled over his feelings, running in different directions to find their own friends probably.
He sighed and trudged down the corridor. Most of the compartments were occupied with laughing children that looked Ron’s age, or towering teenagers who seemed much too intimidating for his taste. He was worried he wouldn’t have anywhere to sit until he noticed a nearly empty compartment – the only occupant was the small boy they helped onto the platform.
He gulped. According to Fred, this was the Harry Potter.
“Anyone sitting there?” Ron mustered, pulling the door open shyly. “Everywhere else is full.” The other boy shook his head and Ron hurried inside.
He took a quick peak to see if Fred was fibbing but couldn’t see anything beneath the boy’s fringe. He didn’t know how to ask politely. It’s not like he went around asking people to push their hair back so he could see if they had a giant scar there. Luckily, he didn’t have a chance to embarrass himself when the twins popped their heads into the compartment.
“Hey, Ron. Listen, we’re going down the middle of the train – Lee Jordan’s got a giant tarantula down there.” George gave a look to Ron, meaning he was inviting him to tag along. Ron grimaced at the thought of a spider any bigger than a tiny fleck.
“Right,” he muttered. George gave a sympathetic nod. His twin, meanwhile, looked at Harry with interest.
“Harry, did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother,” Fred looked at Ron with a pointed smile. Ron couldn’t tell if this was bait to ask the boy if he was Harry Potter, or if Fred was silently telling him he’d be questioned relentlessly about his ride with The Boy Who Lived. “See you later, then.”
They said their goodbyes and Ron, now goaded by Fred, clumsily made a fool of himself. “Are you really Harry Potter?”
He could feel his face get warm as the other boy – Harry – nodded.
“Oh – well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George’s jokes,” Ron looked around the compartment nervously. He didn’t know what you were supposed to say to someone famous, let alone the child who defeated You-Know-Who when he was still in his nappies. “And have you got – you know…” he gestured at Harry’s head.
Harry showed him the angry mark on his temple. It looked like a particularly jagged piece of glass struck his forehead, reddish pink around the edges and pale in the center. It was just about the same length of Ron’s pointer finger.
“So that’s where You-Know-Who –?”
“Yes,” said Harry. “But I can’t remember it.”
“Nothing?” Ron hated to admit he was morbidly curious how the events of that night came to be. How could a strong and capable wizarding couple fall at You-Know-Who’s hands but their tiny son survived and defeated the dark wizard? He was no older than Ron himself, and yet, there was a bit of hope looking at Harry. He accomplished so much at eleven while looking just as plain as Ron.
“Well – I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else.” Harry shrugged.
“Wow…”
Ron was pleasantly surprised to find Harry was very curious about him and his relationship to magic. He heard Harry went to live with his Muggle aunt and uncle but didn’t think they’d deprive him of his heritage. In fact, Harry knew very little about the magical world and voiced his own fears of being a disappointment despite his legendary status. Ron was relieved to know one of the most famous wizards of the century was just as worried about fitting in as he was.
They were getting on quite well for several hours while the scenery whizzed past them. Harry was kind and generous, hanging onto Ron’s every word and filling the compartment with laughter. They were feasting away on a pile of sweets when a boy and girl stopped by their compartment looking for a toad. They spoke to the boy moments ago – he sadly asked if they’d seen his pet toad. His companion was rather forward and bossily asked if they’d seen it as well. Ron thought she reminded him a bit of a squirrel with her mane of hair, large front teeth, and the speed of her talking.
“Oh, are you doing magic?” she said. Ron was about to show Harry a spell George gave him to turn his pet rat yellow. “Let’s see it, then.”
Ron faltered briefly at her directness. He said the incantation…only nothing happened, and Scabbers continued to sleep on his side as if he had keeled over and died. He felt his ears go pink while this girl – Hermione Granger – went on about how the spell probably wasn’t real. She spoke without many pauses, stunning both Harry and Ron at her fervent interest in magic. They barely introduced themselves before Hermione and the boy, Neville, left in search of his toad.
“Whatever House I’m in, I hope she’s not in it,” he grumbled. He muttered on about his brothers playing another joke.
“What House are your brothers in?”
“Gryffindor,” Ron winced. “Mum and Dad were in it, too. I don’t know what they’ll say if I’m not. I don’t suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad but imagine if they put me in Slytherin.”
He briefly thought of his grandparents but too many years had passed since he was reassured any House would fine. His parents were confident they’d produce a long lineage of Gryffindors after the twins were placed there after their first year. Ron wanted to make them proud but that would make it harder to have his own identity in a family of strong personalities.
Harry quickly changed the topic to Ron’s relief. Glad to keep his thoughts away from school a little longer, they went on to discuss Quidditch.
Harry had never heard of the sport! He was explaining that the Chudley Cannons were his favorite team when a group of boys strutted into the compartment. There was a pale boy at the center and he pretentiously looked Harry up and down. He introduced himself as Draco Malfoy and his friends were Crabbe and Goyle.
Ron caught himself mid-laugh and cleared his throat with a cough. The ridiculous name suited this boy; he had a pointed face and turned his nose up at the two of them. Draco gave him a sharp look.
“Think my name’s funny, do you? No need to ask who you are,” said Draco. He evaluated Ron’s appearance with a mean little smirk. “My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford.”
The mood in the room shifted immediately. Ron was used to his brothers saying things to get under his skin, but he’d never encounter another person making jabs at him and the rest of his family. If this were Fred being a prat, he would’ve leapt from his seat and whacked him across the face. But this boy had cold, grey eyes and a malicious sneer on his face, silently testing if Ron had the gall to do anything.
“You’ll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort,” Draco held out his hand to Harry. “I can help you there.”
“I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks.” Harry said without any hesitation. Ron beamed proudly. Harry was nothing he’d imagine to be and he was beginning to think his first year would be perfectly decent after all.
Until Draco opened his snide little mouth again.
“I’d be careful if I were you, Potter. Unless you’re a bit politer you’ll go the same way as your parents. They didn’t know what was good for them, either. You hang around the riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it’ll rub off on you.”
“Say that again,” Ron said ferociously, though Malfoy could say anything and he would still try to have a go at him. He was pleased to see Harry affronted as well, standing beside Ron with an equal amount of fury. Malfoy scoffed and didn’t seem impressed with their display.
They exchanged more words and Goyle made a sudden movement, but neither Harry nor Ron had to defend themselves against the three boys. Scabbers charged at Goyle and bit him hard enough to hang from his fingertip, causing him to howl with pain. There was a commotion ending with the large buffoon swinging his arm around and tossing Scabbers across the compartment. Malfoy’s gang fled down the hall when the rat thudded against the cushioned seats.
Bit cowardly for someone who talked a big game a second ago.
Ron gently patted Scabbers – the stupid fool had gone back to sleep – then looked warmly at Harry. He was no fan of Hermione Granger or Draco Malfoy but he’d certainly hoped he could be in the same house as Harry Potter.
~*~
Ron felt foolish for believing Fred’s story about having to wrestle a troll to be sorted. He braced himself as Gryffindor’s Head of House led them into the Great Hall, only to see an ancient hat sitting on a stool before the faculty table. It abruptly sang a great song about the school and the Houses, but Ron was distracted by his surroundings.
His brothers’ letters did the school’s grandeur no justice; above them twinkled hundreds of floating candles, illuminating the space between the hall and the seemingly infinite ceiling’s expanse of stars and moonlight. The House tables appeared equally endless and were littered with a sea of students, all wearing their school colors and peaking over their peers to see this term’s batch of first years.
He looked around and saw his brothers seated together, gesturing encouragingly and broad grins on their faces. The whole hall burst into applause, signaling the end of the hat’s song and Ron looked away to see what would happen next. “Abbott, Hannah” was the first to be called and sorted into Hufflepuff to great cheers. Another Hufflepuff, a Ravenclaw, another Ravenclaw, a Gryffindor, and a Slytherin followed after her. Ron stood on his toes to look at Harry as the other students scurried to their tables. That Hermione girl was called soon after.
“Gryffindor!”
Just his luck – he was sure her insistent chatter would drive him mad if he were in Gryffindor, too. He rolled his eyes after Malfoy went up, almost immediately being sorted into Slytherin. The sortings continued normally until Harry’s name was announced.
A wave of stunned silence swept through the hall and excited muttering filled the stillness just as suddenly, all the students wondering where famous Harry Potter would end up. Ron remembered the hat barely touched Malfoy before placing him in Slytherin. A few other students only needed five or so seconds for their own House to be called. But Harry sat on the stool longer than most, and if Ron squinted hard enough, he could see Harry’s lips moving minutely.
He was starting to get worried but sighed with relief when the hat finally yelled “Gryffindor!” The furthest table on the right boomed with cheers and Ron could make out Fred and George hooting wildly with delight. Well, at least he would have Harry to complain to if Hermione talked his ear off in Gryffindor.
He smiled and thought of all the adventures they’d go on together through the school years. He could envision them discovering all the school’s secrets together, playing Quidditch if the weather was fair, casting spells and getting top marks. A few more students took their turn with the Sorting Hat and Ron inched forward. He would have a wonderful year with Harry by his side and would find what made him the different Weasley in Gryffindor… right?
The smile on his face fell as Prof. McGonagall got to the end of first year list, Ron among the last four students to be placed. How many Gryffindors got sorted from their group? Did the Sorting Hat try to divvy up the students equally every year? A lump grew in his throat when “Thomas, Dean” rushed to the stool, feeling dizzy as the tall boy got put into Gryffindor. That was it – he was done for. There had been too many first years at the Gryffindors table already!
His name rang next and Ron’s feet moved of their own will. He closed his eyes as soon as the old fabric of the hat rested on his head, too scared to search for his brothers or Harry in case they knew he wasn’t good enough to be in Gryffindor.
‘Not good enough to be in Gryffindor?’ a voice rang in his mind, causing the boy to jump and swallow a strangled yelp. Was this why Harry was whispering to himself?
‘I’m here for you, boy. Not Potter,’ the voice said again. Ron slowly opened his eyes. All he could see was the darkness inside of the hat. ‘I’ve never met a Weasley that wasn’t good enough for Gryffindor. Your family is filled with a tenacious breed of magic.’
“I know,” Ron mumbled under his breath.
‘You’re tough, too, I see… Loyal and determined. Hm, an interesting mind, indeed.’
Silence passed in the hall and in Ron’s mind. He dared not think of anything in case the Sorting Hat found another thought to scrutinize.
‘Struggling to find your footing, though… You’re worried you’ll be a disappointment no matter what you do. It’s possible you need a different influence to find your way... Perhaps this will steer you on the right path,’
“Slytherin!”
There was a pause, then the Slytherin table erupted with claps. The cheering, with the exception of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, was as enthusiastic as it had been for the other Slytherin first years. Ron stumbled to his feet and blearily made his way to the table underneath the green and silver banners. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the rest of the hall, hot tears of shame welling in his eyes and threatening to fall any second.
“Zabini, Blaise” was sorted into Slytherin while Ron sat down, and the Headmaster gave a brief welcoming announcement once everyone settled. Dumbledore was the only one speaking, but Ron barely heard him over the insistent buzzing in his ears. He stared feebly at his plate despite mountains of food appearing in front of him.
“You alright, Weasley?” said a girl across the table. Her hair was dark and curly, barely sweeping over her ears and she had a probing look on her face. Ron glanced around and noticed all the Slytherin first years were looking at him with great interest. However, Malfoy’s stare seemed particularly unkind.
“Er, yes,” Ron began to shovel food onto his plate to avoid further questions. “Just a bit –”
“Gobsmacked?” another girl asked. She had a haughty air about her and a sneer on her face. “Aren’t Weasleys blood-traitors after all?”
A few of the first years snorted into their food. The others continued to stare at Ron curiously or didn’t seem to understand the comment.
“Blood-traitors? In Slytherin? This is too rich,” the first girl laughed. “Although, last I heard Weasleys didn’t have much to their name.”
A blonde girl further up the table made a disapproving sound at the comment.
“Play nice. Olivia, Pansy,” Ron barely heard her over the roaring in his ears. He trained his eyes on his lap, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth in an effort to calm down. “Why pick your own House apart when you have the rest of Hogwarts to insult?”
The two girls leered at Ron then turned their attentions to each other, discussing what the other had been up to during the summer holiday. Ron felt a tap on the back of his right hand – a thin boy with a large mop of brown hair looked at him owlishly.
“You’re going to have to get them back if you want to earn any respect here,” he said quietly. “Do your best to survive, Weasley.”
Ron gave a curt nod. He sat quietly, absorbing the conversations around him. Most of the first years seemed to know each other well, coming from pureblood families that would rather dabble with approved company than taking their chances with “riffraff.” Tracey Davis and Millicent Bulstrode, whom sat further down the table, were both half-blood witches, though they didn’t speak much of their Muggle parents.
Malfoy gave them critical looks and a scoff at the mention of their lineage, but Daphne Greengrass – the girl who stuck up for Ron – seemed sincerely interested in getting to know them. She didn’t seem to mind their blood status and asked about their families without giving an opportunity for Malfoy, Parkinson, or Runcorn to strike.
The boys on either side of Ron were just as quiet as he was during the feast. Blaise sat to his left and only hummed in response to most comments or questions directed his way. Theodore Nott was to his right, and while he spoke more words than Blaise and Ron combined, he seemed more interested with the goings on in the hall. He looked up and down the table and sat straighter as if to see what the other Houses were up to at their tables.
Neither of these boys laughed when Olivia made a jab at the Weasley’s wealth. Perhaps he was desperate to see the bright side, but Ron thought it wouldn’t be so bad to be in Slytherin if a majority of his peers were indifferent towards him.
Dumbledore stood up again after the desserts had cleared from the tabletops and gave out the remainder of announcements. Ron frowned at the comments about the forbidden third floor corridor; surely they wouldn’t keep something dangerous enough to kill the students on the grounds. He didn’t have much time to think further on it as Dumbledore led the students in singing the school anthem, bidding them all a goodnight once the last of the hall finished their renditions of the song. The hall filled with excited talking and the Prefects stood to guide their respective first years to the dormitories.
Ron fell behind the last of the group, watching the other students huddle together in little herds. Daphne, Tracey, and Millicent followed Gemma Farley, the Slytherin Prefect, through a corridor in the Entrance Hall with Olivia and Pansy trailing closely behind. Malfoy and his hulking friends were the next set of students in line, pointing at different decorations in the large hallways and talking in hushed voices. Blaise and Theodore silently followed along without acknowledging Ron.
“Oi, Ron,” He jumped as a hand sharply yanked his hood. He whipped around to see Fred and George looking at him, their eyes searching wildly across Ron’s face.
Ron looked beyond them to see Percy leading the Gryffindors towards the Grand Staircase. He saw Percy preoccupied with talking to Granger but shifted his attention to a head moving frantically among the other first years. Harry was hopping on his tiptoes in the crowd and when their eyes met, he waved quickly in Ron’s direction, soon lost in the rush of students heading to their bedrooms.
Ron swallowed bitterly. He trained his gaze back to his older brothers.
“Percy wanted to have a word, but you know,” Fred said. “He’s too busy and important with his Prefect duties. Eugh.”
“…You alright, though?” asked George. “Can’t believe you… Mum and Dad will never guess – I mean, it’s a bit nutters.”
Ron wanted to tear them to shreds. Of course it was nutters – they were more Slytherin than Ron would have pegged himself! He made a fist in the pocket of his robes to calm down.
“I’m…fine…I s’pose.”
The twins didn’t seem too convinced.
“If it’s one thing we’ve learned here, Ron, it’s that you gotta have a tough skin,” George started. “You better be quick with your wit,”
“Your wand, as well. Don’t let them corner you,”
“Corner them,”
“And whatever you do,”
“Don’t let them see you vulnerable,” they finished in unison.
Ron blinked, taken aback by his brothers’ response to being a Slytherin. He fully expected the two of them to gloat about the sorting results. ‘Poor ickle Ronniekins! Fed to the snakes!’ he imagined in their voices. Normally it was Charlie that imparted this sort of brotherly guidance whereas the twins would tease him for crying over spilt milk.
“Weasley! Catch up or I’ll drag you down here!” Rhys Baddock, the other Slytherin Prefect, called out from the corridor. He looked thoroughly annoyed he wasn’t sleeping off the evening feast yet, and the other Slytherin first years were out of sight.
“Best let you go, then. We’ll come see you before your classes if we have time.”
“Sleep with one eye open! That pale git looks like he’s a nasty pain in the arse.”
Fred ruffled his hair and George clapped him on the back before they were scolded too, leaving Ron with a faint sense of security. At least his brothers didn’t seem upset with the hat’s ruling. He hurried along with Rhys towards the Slytherin common room, hoping the news would be taken well by the rest of his family.
~*~
The Slytherin common room was quite literally a dungeon: the stone staircase descended for an eternity, giving an air of grandness with the impossibly tall stonewalls, the ancient stained-glass windows, and the dimly lit ornate lamps. Ron’s group gasped upon further examination of the windows, realizing they were looking into the Great Lake when creatures drifted close enough to the panels in the deep darkness of the water. From the ceiling hung long, emerald tapestries with famous witches and wizards woven on them – Ron recognized a tapestry of Merlin from his chocolate frog card collection.
In spite of it feeling dark, Ron saw the comforts of long leather couches with students gathered around the huge and elaborate fireplace mantle. Many of them were relaxing after the feast or doing simple spell casting they’d learned from the summer readings. He was delighted to see a wizard’s chess set on a table, too!
The boy’s dormitory had six four-poster beds with the emerald curtains drawn, a set of green and white pinstriped pajamas folded neatly on the sheets. Their trunks were set in front of them, causing Ron to pause when he saw his belongings next to Draco Malfoy’s at the end of the room. He frowned, half tempted to ask Blaise if he’d switch beds so he could have some distance from Malfoy. He stopped himself, repeating the words of the Sorting Hat, Theodore, and George in his head.
‘Your family is filled with a tenacious breed of magic.’
‘Do your best to survive, Weasley.’
‘If it’s one thing we’ve learned here, Ron, it’s that you gotta have a tough skin.’
A shoulder pushed past Ron roughly and he stumbled against his trunk. Lo and behold there was Malfoy, sneering at Ron’s disgruntled expression as he shrugged off his cloak. Goyle snickered from the other side of Malfoy’s bed and Ron suddenly felt several pairs of eyes watching them.
“Well, well, well. Looks like a Weasley won the lottery and found himself in a real House for once. Do try to keep your filth to yourself though,”
“Shove off,” Ron grunted. He turned to change out of his own robes and Draco scoffed beside him. He felt the other boy move dangerously close to his flank, urging Ron to react.
“Going to cry yourself to sleep, then? Need me to owl your mummy to rescue you?”
“No,” Ron said firmly, standing at his full height and stepping towards Malfoy. He briefly celebrated he was 8 whole centimeters taller than the other boy. “But keep it up and I’ll make sure Goyle owls yours after I knock you across your thick skull.”
There was a snort at the end of the room from Crabbe’s bed as Draco’s cheeks flushed. The smaller boy didn’t flinch when Ron challenged his stance, narrowing his eyes and glowering up at Ron’s freckled face. Neither of them wanted to be the first to break; Draco puffed his chest arrogantly while Ron wasn’t showing any signs of being bullied into submission.
“Oh, give it a rest already,” said Blaise halfway in bed, making both of them glance in his direction. “We can all see you’re going to be the best of mates this year. Now keep it down! The rest of us are trying to sleep!”
Draco muttered something under his breath, turning away and changing into his own pajamas before snatching his bed curtains closed. Theodore Nott made eye contact with Ron across the room, buttoning up the rest of his pajama shirt and shooting him the faintest of smiles.
The rest of the boys followed suit and climbed into bed, Ron grinning to himself all the while. He didn’t even mind Scabbers squeaking in his ear insistently when he left no room on the pillow for the rat. Maybe being in Slytherin wouldn’t be so awful.
Ron found he was anxious again the following morning. Would he be able to put a brave front for the next seven years? He changed quickly into his school robes to avoid another altercation with Malfoy and his cronies, eager to find the Great Hall instead to speak with his brothers.
He managed to navigate his way out of the dungeons after taking four or five wrong turns, relieved to see the only students from his year were Millicent and Daphne at the Slytherin table. Ron was so busy looking for a decent seat that he hadn’t noticed a pack of boys rushing alongside him for breakfast, and he promptly stumbled into one of them when he jerked towards the hall.
“Watch it!” a sandy-haired boy yelled shrilly, helping his friend upright. “Didn’t your mam –”
“Ron!” He was pulled to his feet and hands squeezed his arms excitedly. “I hoped I would catch you today!” Ron saw green eyes sparkling behind a large pair of glasses.
“Harry!” Ron felt some of his jitters ease away as the other boy smiled at him. Harry looked sincerely happy to find him and the other Gryffindors seemed satisfied Ron meant no harm. They left the pair to find their own seats and although Ron felt comfortable with Harry, there was a heaviness between the boys. “...Sorry – didn’t mean to knock you over.”
“S’okay,” said Harry. He paused, clearly wanting to say something but not knowing how to say it. “Er... How’s –?”
“Slytherin?” They both winced. “It’s...fine?” Harry made a sad smile at that, knowing Ron was doing his best not to seem bothered he wasn’t in Gryffindor.
“Sorry you’ll have to deal with Malfoy all year...”
“You’re sorry? Don’t you have Hermione Granger in Gryffindor? It’s you I’m sorry for, mate!”
“She can’t be all bad!” They both laughed. The weight lifted between them. Despite Ron’s fussing about Slytherin on the Hogwarts Express, Harry wasn’t treating him any differently, and Ron saw a faint glimmer of hope that they’d be close despite being in different Houses. “We’re still friends?”
“Course,” beamed Ron. “So long as you don’t win the House Cup at the end of the year!”
“You’re on.” They grinned and parted to opposite sides of the hall. Ron watched Harry join his friends at Gryffindor table before mustering the courage to sit next to Millicent. She mumbled a quiet hello in reply to Ron’s greeting, and Daphne stared him with an inquisitive look (Ron scrubbed his face in case there was a spot on his cheek).
“You and Harry Potter seem chummy,” she said.
“Oh... Well – we shared a compartment on the train,” Ron shrugged. “He’s my friend.”
Ron’s declaration was more for him than for Millicent and Daphne but the girls made no objections to the statement. They nodded and slowly, the rest of the school filtered into the Great Hall. The other Slytherin first years joined them once Ron finished his first plate of eggs and toast, chattering excitedly about what classes they would be in.
Ron looked around and saw a few older students and professors distributing pieces of parchment up and down the hall. When he finished his second plate of potatoes and sausage, the Slytherin Prefects gave each of the first years their course schedules. Ron grinned at the double Potions lessons they had on Fridays with the Gryffindors. He made a mental note to find Harry this week to coordinate whether they’d sit together. Tucking the parchment away in his pocket, Ron packed his bag and made his way to brave the hundred-some staircase to Charms, but was stopped just before he left the hall.
“Weasley,” said Draco Malfoy with Crabbe and Goyle not far behind. They walked up to Ron and for a brief moment, he thought of reaching for his wand like his brothers had warned him to. But Malfoy seemed neither angry nor snide. “Off to class, are you?”
“No, the Forbidden Forest,” Ron replied shortly. The other boys rolled their eyes. “Where else would I be going?”
“Listen, Weasley – I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot,” Draco brushed off his cheek and stepped forward. Ron braced himself for some kind of cheap trick but none came. “This school’s a mess at is – it would be wise for us to be on the same playing field with the rest of the Slytherins. You know – united and showing the rest who’s really in charge here.”
“Is this your way of saying sorry?”
“Saying sorry? For what?”
Ron stared at him blankly. He couldn’t be serious.
“For all that nasty stuff you said before! ‘Bout my family? For Harry’s parents?” Draco waved his hand absent-mindedly in the air.
“Oh, that? Come now, Weasley. That’s behind me,” Ron wanted to say that was all good and well but it certainly wasn’t behind him. However, Draco quickly steered Ron the rest of the way out the hall and towards the staircases. “If it really bothers you that much I won’t say more about…your questionable upbringing.”
“Malfoy,” Ron warned, pulling his arm away indignantly.
“Yes, alright, fine! Whatever you say, Weasley. Are we settled then?” Draco asked with exasperation.
Ron was still annoyed he didn’t get a proper apology from him but maybe he would be pushing his luck at this point. He gave a Draco a hard stare, then he sighed, nodding with resignation while they continued up the staircase.
“We’re square. But we’ll have to work on that terrible mouth of yours,” Ron yelled over his shoulder, laughing at Draco’s offended squawk. Crabbe and Goyle joined in on the laughter much to Draco’s ire.
“Me? Terrible?! You best take that back right now before I really show you terrible –”
But Ron couldn’t hear the rest of Draco’s threats as he giggled the rest of the way up the staircase, accidentally leading them down a corridor that was the opposite direction of the Charms classroom. He ignored Draco prattling on about his carelessness, finding the other boy to be more bark than any bite. It was actually kind of entertaining to rile him up and Ron wondered if this was why the twins annoyed him endlessly at home.
He grinned. Hogwarts wouldn’t be so bad as a Slytherin after all.