Chapter 4
The Emberborn
Chapter Five: Splintered Trust
Ron’s paranoia was becoming a constant companion.
Every glance in the corridors felt like suspicion. Every whisper might be someone figuring him out.
Even his friends were starting to notice.
“Ron, you look terrible.”
“Cheers, Harry. You always know how to make a bloke feel better.”
But Harry wasn’t joking. His expression was grim, concern creasing his forehead. Hermione hovered nearby, books clutched tightly against her chest, her eyes narrowed with worry.
“It’s not just today, Ron. You’ve been acting strangely for weeks. Barely eating, hardly sleeping, sneaking off Merlin knows where—”
“I’m not sneaking off,” Ron snapped, but it came out sharper than he intended. The words lashed through the air like whips.
Harry and Hermione exchanged a look.
“Alright,” Harry said slowly. “But if something’s wrong… you can tell us. We want to help.”
Ron’s fingers twitched at his sides. They couldn’t help. Not with this.
“I’m fine,” he said, voice strained. “Just— tired. Like you said.”
He tried to smile, but it felt unnatural. Forced.
If Hermione noticed, she didn’t say anything. But the worry in her gaze only deepened.
⸻
Great Hall – Unease and Accusations
Breakfast was tense. The Slytherins were smirking more than usual, shooting looks at the Gryffindor table as if they’d already won something.
Ron was poking at his porridge when Draco Malfoy sauntered over, Crabbe and Goyle flanking him like mindless bodyguards.
“Well, well. Looks like the Weasel’s gone rabid,” Malfoy sneered.
Ron tensed. His fingers tightened around his spoon.
“What do you want, Malfoy?” Harry snapped.
Malfoy’s smirk only widened. “Just wondering if you lot had heard the latest. Rumor is, Umbridge is hunting down anyone with… special talents.” His gaze flicked to Ron, eyes glittering with something almost predatory. “Especially those who can’t control themselves.”
Ron’s stomach twisted. He stared at his bowl, heart thundering in his chest.
“What are you on about?” Hermione said coolly, though her hand shook slightly as she adjusted her books.
Malfoy’s smile was sickly sweet. “Just something I overheard. Apparently, some poor sod nearly burned down the Gryffindor common room last night. Imagine that.”
“Shove off, Malfoy,” Harry snapped.
Malfoy laughed, a sharp, grating sound. “Careful, Potter. With friends like him, you might find yourself getting burned.”
He strolled away, leaving a chill in his wake.
Ron couldn’t breathe.
It couldn’t be true. Just last night he had woken from dreams of flashing green and burning red. It had led to him running to the common room at 3 O’clock in the morning, and nearly making the fireplace tens times it’s usual size on complete accident.
But no one had seen—no one could know—
But Malfoy had been so certain.
Someone had to have told him.
⸻
The Library – Desperation
He spent the rest of the day with his head down, avoiding everyone. Harry and Hermione tried to talk to him between classes, but he brushed them off. His nerves were frayed, and every time someone got too close, he felt the heat stir within him, warning him to keep his distance.
By dinner, his hands were trembling again. He couldn’t stay in the Great Hall. Couldn’t stand the thought of Malfoy’s sneer, of Umbridge’s calculating gaze.
He made his way to the library instead, hoping for quiet.
Madam Pince eyed him warily but said nothing. He found a table near the back, buried between towering shelves of dusty books.
He pulled his wand from his pocket, gripping it tightly, trying to steady himself.
Everything was falling apart.
He had managed to hide the truth for weeks now, but clearly, it wasn’t enough. Someone had seen him. Someone had told Malfoy.
And if Malfoy knew…
Ron shuddered. He didn’t want to think about what Umbridge would do if she found out.
“Have you figured it out yet?”
The voice was soft, dreamy, like a cloud passing through sunlight.
Ron flinched, nearly knocking his ink bottle to the floor. “Luna?”
She stood there, her silver eyes studying him with that same disconcerting directness she always had.
“You’ve been avoiding everyone,” she said calmly, sitting across from him. “But mostly yourself.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ron snapped, his voice rougher than he intended.
Luna only tilted her head. “You’re not what you think you are. And that’s scaring you.”
Ron’s mouth went dry. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Luna leaned forward, her gaze unfocused, but her words sharp. “There’s something inside you. Something old. And it’s trying to come out.”
Ron wanted to deny it. Laugh it off. But the words stuck in his throat.
“How do you…?” He couldn’t finish the question.
“I can feel it.” Luna’s eyes glimmered. “Like the warmth of a fire when you’re cold. It’s comforting. But you don’t find it comforting, do you?”
He couldn’t look at her. “It’s not… It’s not natural.”
“Who told you that?”
Ron’s gaze snapped to hers, startled.
“Maybe it’s not about being natural or unnatural,” Luna continued, her voice soft but sure. “Maybe it’s about acceptance. About understanding what you are instead of fighting it.”
Ron shook his head. “You don’t get it. If I’m—if I’m something else, something wrong—”
“You’re not wrong,” Luna said firmly. “You’re just… different.”
Ron swallowed, his throat tight. He wanted to believe her. Desperately.
But how could he accept something when he didn’t even know what it was?
“Ron, whatever you are,” Luna said, standing gracefully, “it’s not something to be ashamed of.”
And with that, she drifted away, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
Her words echoed in his mind.
It’s not something to be ashamed of.
But maybe it was something to be afraid of.
⸻
The Room of Requirement – The Truth Uncovered
Ron returned to the Room of Requirement that night. He couldn’t stay away.
The book was still there, its chains loosely coiled around it like serpents waiting to strike.
He tore it open, turning to the pages about the Solvryn.
He read them all. Every line. Every word.
By the time he finished, his head was spinning.
Fire. Magic. Rage. Blood of gold.
The last of a line that had been wiped out because wizards couldn’t control them.
Wizards like Umbridge. Wizards like Voldemort.
And now, it was happening all over again.
Ron stared at his hands.
They weren’t shaking anymore.
They were burning.
And he had no idea how to make it stop.