Pride

Ron blinked up at the vibrant summer sky. The blue stretched on forever, a vast and endless expanse that filled his vision. He felt its color resound in him, a discordant melody that failed to make itself fully heard. Like a lost memory, or a forgotten dream.

He felt so incredibly sad. 

Ron sat up and wiped the tears from his eyes, just in time to see two gnomes running away with his wand.

“Oi!”

“Watch out, ickle Ronniekins!” one of his brothers called out. “The gnomes’ll get you!”

“Shut up, George!”

Ron scrambled to his feet and chased after the two gnomes, diving as they tried to hide in their holes. Ron seized the wand and lifted the two gnomes up. He spun around, letting instinct guide his movements, and the two gnomes flew off into the distance.

“I’m not George, he is!”

“I’m not George,” Fred protested. “He’s an imposter! Where’s Fred?”

Ron sighed wearily. He knew which one was which. That trick only worked on their parents. 

The twins grinned down at him, and he frowned in response. He had a question. It was the most important question in the world.

“What day is it?”

The twins looked at each other. “It’s July 30th,” Fred informed him.

“Still a month until school,” George said.

“You’re driving mum mad, counting the days.”

Ron pushed past them. He needed something desperately. 

"Mum wants you to collect the eggs!" Fred shouted.

"Who cares about eggs?" Ron shouted back. Eggs…there was something about an egg…

Shaking his head, he ran into the house.

“Watch out!” Ginny said when he tripped over her. She had laid out old quidditch magazines on the floor and was paging through them. “Did you get the eggs?”

“No,” Ron said, looking at a spread of Holyhead Harpies captain and beater, Gwenog Jones. “Did you get that from my room?”

“No,” Ginny said, covering it with an old copy of Witch Weekly.

“I told you to stay out of my room!” Ron snapped at her. 

“I didn’t go into your room!”

Frustrated, Ron growled, “I don’t have time for this,” and hurried to the kitchen. 

He could hear his mum making breakfast and talking to someone

“...lly should do something about that hair. What will your new coworkers think?”

“Molly, dear,” his dad said, “I don’t think—”

“The goblins don’t care, mum.”

Ron nearly collided into his brother Bill, who caught him by the shoulders.

“Slow down, Ron,” Bill said, smiling broadly. “Where’s the fire?”

“Where are the eggs is my question,” his mum said, turning around. “Ronald Weasley! If I’ve asked you once, I’ve asked you a dozen times!”

“Is that an egg joke?” Ron asked

His dad hid beneath the Daily Prophet. He was holding it upside down. 

“You get me those eggs or you’ll be having gruel for breakfast!”

“No!” Ron cried, devastated. “Fine! I’ll get the bloody eggs,” he said in a mumble.

“Don’t think I didn’t hear that!”

“Come on, Ron,” Bill said, turning him around. “I’ll help you.”

“I had something important to do,” Ron protested, walking back out of the house. He frowned, looking down at the wand he held. It had been his older brother Charlie’s, and had been passed down to him when Charlie got a new wand. It was ash, and he could see the unicorn hair sticking out. 

“Bill,” Ron began. “Aren’t ash wands…loyal? They aren’t meant to be passed down?” Ron held up the wand for Bill’s inspection as they navigated the garden towards the chicken coop. 

“Watch,” Ron said, pointing at a nearby chicken pecking at the ground. “Wingardium leviosa.” He was fairly certain he’d said it right, but nothing happened. 

Ron pushed the wand into Bill’s hand. 

“You try.”

“Where did you learn that spell?” Bill asked. “Have you already read your books?”

“No,” Ron said. “Why would I do that?”

Bill shrugged, and attempted the spell. The hen clucked indignantly as she was raised in a wobbly flight that ended swiftly. 

“You’re right,” Bill said, poking at the bit of unicorn hair sticking out. “I don’t think this wand will work for you.”

Ron knew his parents couldn’t afford to buy him a new wand. Seven galleons was a lot of money for them. But he needed a working wand. He had to have one. And he knew he needed to get it the next day. 

“Can I ask you a really big favor?” Ron asked, looking up hopefully at his brother. 

“Go on,” Bill said. 

“Mum and dad can’t pay for a new wand,” Ron said, looking at the chickens surrounding them. “Do you think…would you be able to get me one?”

“Of course,” Bill said instantly, smiling at him. “I don’t know how many times I’ve offered…never mind. You know I’m headed off to Egypt next week, right?”

Ron nodded. It was strange not having his oldest brothers around. Charlie had got his N.E.W.T.s in June and left for the Romanian dragon reserve only a few weeks later. Now Bill was leaving too. 

“Why don’t we meet for lunch tomorrow?” Bill suggested. “And it might be a good idea not to tell mum and dad about this. You know how they are.”

Ron nodded again, then on a whim hugged his brother. “Thanks.”

Bill patted his back. “Let’s get those eggs for mum before she tries cracking us for omelettes.”

"Aren't you sweet," his mum said, patting down his hair. "Meeting your big brother for lunch!"

"I guess so," Ron mumbled.

"We'll all miss him, dear," she went on, as if she hadn't heard it. "It's lovely of you to spend time with him—" she sniffled "—while you still can. Now, you'll behave yourself?"

Ron nodded, eyeing the floo powder.

"Try not to embarrass him in front of the goblins. They are a very proud people."

"I know, mum!"

"Well, go on, then," she said, holding out their pot of floo powder. Ron took a handful. "Loud and clear!"

“Mum,” Ginny whined, “I want to go too!”

Ron threw the powder in their fireplace and stepped into the emerald flames. The color looked so familiar…

"Gringotts!" Ron shouted.

He spun dizzly around, other grates blurring past, until he was spat out on the floor of a white marble lobby and into a very large leg.

"Alright there?" a gruff voice loudly asked.

Ron looked up, and up, and up. The very large leg was attached to a very large man, with shaggy hair and a tangled beard. Ron had never seen such a wild man before, but he looked like he was friendly enough. For some reason the man had a pink umbrella with him, though it wasn’t raining that day. Ron felt he could trust him, not knowing why.

“Sorry,” Ron said, backing up. He looked around the man, who was either an actual giant or had got into a bottle of Skele-Gro as a kid, and saw a small boy around his age hiding behind his other leg. Ron stared at this boy. He had messy, curly hair, warm brown skin, and thick glasses that magnified bright green eyes. It made his brain hurt a little, he was staring so hard, and the other boy fidgeted. 

“Ron, there you are!”

Bill rounded Hagrid and patted Ron on the head. 

“Bill! Leave off,” Ron mumbled, embarrassed. 

“Hello Hagrid,” Bill said. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Bill, it’s been a while!” The giant man, Hagrid, said, his loud voice echoing in the lobby. “I heard you were working at Gringotts. How’re the goblins treating you?”

“Well, thank you,” Bill said. “I’ve just completed my curse-breaker training, and I’m off to Egypt for my first job.” He smiled down at Ron. “I’m taking my little brother out for lunch.”

Hagrid beamed at them. “I’m here with young Harry,” Hagrid said, gesturing to the shy boy who was trying to disappear into the floor. 

“Harry?” Bill asked, looking curiously at the boy. 

“Harry Potter,” Ron said, surprising everyone. 

“Have you met him before?” Bill asked. “Potter, that name sounds familiar.”

Ron frowned at him. “His mum and dad are Lily and James Potter.”

Bill’s eyes widened. “Right, of course. How do you know that?”

Ron frowned. “I don’t know. I just…do?” 

He turned to Harry, who was staring at him, shocked.

Ron blushed. “I’m Ron Weasley,” he said, sticking his hand out. “Nice to meet you?”

Harry took his hand carefully. “Harry Potter, nice to meet you too.”

Ron felt like his whole body had caught on fire. If there was anything he was certain of, it was that Harry Potter was important. 

“Are you starting Hogwarts too?” Ron asked, certain that Harry was. 

Harry smiled. “I am! I just learned about it. Hagrid told me I’m a wizard.”

“You are,” Ron said, also very certain of this. “I am too. My whole family is. I mean, my mum’s a witch, and so’s my sister…”

“I didn’t know my parents were,” Harry said quietly. “I thought they were dead…”

Confused, Ron opened his mouth to ask about that, then shut it right away. 

“I’m taking young Harry here shopping for his school supplies,” Hagrid was saying to Bill.

“They haven’t sent a professor?” Bill asked carefully. “That’s unusual, isn’t it?”

“Harry’s a special case,” Hagrid said in a whisper everyone within a mile could hear. 

“I see.” Bill turned to Harry. “Have you already opened an account here? I could help you out—”

“I’ve got his key right here!” Hagrid said, pulling it out of one of his many pockets, along with a live owl and a string of half eaten sausages.

Bill stared at the key. “This is also very…unusual. Why do you have his key?”

“Why, I got it from Professor Dumbledore, of course!”

Bill smiled awkwardly at that, then looked at Harry. “I think we should meet with one of the managers. I’m sure Harry has a lot of questions.” Bill glanced down at Ron. “Do you mind waiting?”

“No,” Ron said immediately. “I can wait.” He looked at Harry, who was shifting around, unsure of what to do. 

Ron took his wrist, startling him. “It’s okay, my brother works for the bank. He’ll sort whatever it is out. Have you heard about quidditch?”

It didn’t take long for Bill to help Harry with his vault stuff. A grouchy goblin named Griphook came out to deal with the Harry’s-key-being-in-someone-else’s-possession-for-years business. Griphook was not happy to hear about it. 

Harry was smiling again, and had a bag bulging with money. Ron gave it a quick look, feeling a spike of jealousy, but viciously pushed that away. Harry didn’t have parents. Or he did, but they couldn’t take care of him? Harry didn’t have much, Ron thought, looking at the ill-fitting and ripped clothes, his broken glasses, how he shied away from everyone as if afraid someone would start hitting him. If Harry had money now, that was a good thing. Ron couldn’t be jealous of good things happening to Harry. Harry was his best friend. Or would be? It was all very confusing. 

“I think we’ve missed lunch,” Bill said apologetically, checking his watch. “I need to get back to work.” Bill looked over to Harry and Hagrid walking out of the bank and sighed. “Why don’t you go around Diagon with your new friend? I’ll let mum know. We can meet up when I get off work and get dinner. How does that sound?”

Ron nodded eagerly. “That sounds great!”

Bill pressed galleons into Ron’s hand. “You can get your new wand while Harry gets his. Tell me about it later, okay?”

“Thanks, Bill!” Ron said, running off.

“Listen Harry,” Hagrid was saying, “would you mind if I slipped off for a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts.”

Hagrid walked away without waiting for a response, and Ron caught up to Harry just as he stepped into Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions.

“Mind if I join you?’ Ron asked, smiling hopefully at him. “Bill’s got to go back to work, and I can show you around.”

“Yeah!” Harry said, smiling back. “Hagrid’s gone off to the pub. I’m not sure where to get all of these things,” he said, holding his supply list. “I guess start with robes?”

Ron watched as Harry was placed onto a stool next to a pointy boy Ron knew was Draco Malfoy. He didn't know how he knew that, but as Malfoy prattled on about his father and quidditch and not wanting to be in Hufflepuff, Ron felt a strong distaste for the boy. He could see Harry wasn't fond of him either, especially when Malfoy began insulting Hagrid, who was now standing outside holding three ice cream cones.

"What are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?" Harry asked, licking his ice cream. Ron stopped mid-bite to answer.

"School houses. They stick us under a hat that reads our minds and decides where we belong. There's also Gryffindor and Ravenclaw."

"There isn't a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin," Hagrid said darkly. "You-Know-Who was one."

"That's not true," Ron said. "Barty Crouch was a Ravenclaw. And there were some people in Gryffindor who were Death Eaters."

Hagrid looked at him, surprised. "I suppose so…"

"And Merlin was in Slytherin," Ron said.

"Merlin is real?" Harry asked in awe.

Ron smiled. "Yeah. So was Morgana. There are loads of famous witches and wizards in muggle stories, they just don't know the magic they did was real."

"Wow," Harry said. "What about other things? Like fairy tales?"

Ron talked to Harry about the different fairy tales he had heard as they shopped for Harry's school supplies, Hagrid all but forgotten until they stopped in front of Eeylops Owl Emporium and Ron realized it was Harry's birthday. He knew it was an important day…

"Just Ollivander's left now," Hagrid said to Harry, who was carrying a large cage with a beautiful snowy owl inside. The owl, Ron thought, looked quite proud and heroic. She would be a great ally for Harry.

Ollivander’s was as dark, dusty, and creepy as Ron had remembered. He shook his head. As he had imagined. It was small and cramped, the sole piece of furniture a spindly chair that squealed under Hagrid’s weight. 

“Good afternoon.”

Ron and Harry jumped, the chair broke, and an old man with pale eyes appeared before them. 

“Hello,” Harry said.

“Bloody hell,” Ron said, heart pounding. 

“Ah yes. Yes, yes. I thought I’d be seeing you soon, Harry Potter. You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

He turned his moon eyes on Ron. “Another Weasley. The youngest son?”

“Yes, sir,” Ron said. 

“Your mother was a Prewett, yes? You have her coloring. Rowan and dragon heartstring, eleven inches even. Very stubborn.”

“Right.”

They waited for Ollivander to say more, but he turned on Hagrid and started talking about his broken wand. Ron eyed the pink umbrella suspiciously. The handle was about sixteen inches, looked like oak…

Then Ollivander pulled out a tape measure and focused back on Harry, presenting him with a variety of wands until Harry waved his arm and green and silver sparks shot out. 

“Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good!”

“Holly and phoenix feather,” Ron said, looking over Harry’s shoulder. “It’s an interesting combination.”

“Is it?” Harry asked, looking at his wand. 

“It’s pretty,” Ron concluded. 

Then Ollivander turned on him, and he was subjected to the same measurement frenzy and parade of wands. 

Ron knew it was his wand before he even touched it. 

“Willow and unicorn hair, fourteen inches. Flexible, plenty of room to grow.”

Ron waved it in the air, smiling at the green sparks that came out, falling to fade around them. 

He turned when he heard someone clapping behind him. “Bill!”

“I got off work early. Glad I showed up on time.”

Ron beamed at him. “It’s willow and unicorn hair!”

Ron paid, and tried to give Bill the change, but Bill insisted he keep the leftover money for the train ride. 

“Ready for dinner?” Bill asked. “It’s been a long day.”

Ron bit his lip, glancing at Harry. “Can we bring Harry?”

“I’ve got to get Harry back to his train,” Hagrid said gruffly. “But we’ve got time for a bite to eat!”

Ron and Bill followed them through the Leaky Cauldron and to the Underground, where they got a lot of strange looks, especially Hagrid and the owl. Hagrid led them into a place that smelled like grease, that had hamburgers and hard chairs molded out of some material Ron didn’t recognize. Plastic, he thought. 

Ron sat next to Harry, noticing he had got very quiet. “It’s alright,” Ron said. “School will start soon.”

Harry gave him a shaky smile, then took a bite out of his burger. Ron noticed how carefully he ate it, like he’d never had one before. Ron looked at the chips he had left, then pushed them at Harry. 

Bill watched them all, frowning. He kept frowning as Hagrid helped Harry get all of his things on the train. 

“Your ticket to Hogwarts,” Hagrid said, handing Harry an envelope. “First of September. King’s Cross. It’s all on your ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys—”

“You’re sending Harry home alone?” Bill asked.

Hagrid patted his pocket. “Got a delivery for Professor Dumbledore. See you soon, Harry!”

Bill released a breath, then glanced at Ron. “I think we ought to see Harry home safely. He’s got a lot of things to carry.”

“We don’t have tickets,” Ron whispered, getting onto the train. 

Bill smirked. “We do have magic. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

Ron sat next to Harry and talked with him, while Bill alternately watched them and looked at the muggle passengers, or out of the window. Harry grew more and more quiet as they approached the station. 

Bill and Ron helped him carry his things out. 

“Is your family waiting for you?” Bill asked, looking around.

Harry shrugged. “Hagrid found us in a hut somewhere north. Near Cokeworth, I think. One of my letters was sent there.”

Bill’s expression darkened. “How far is it to your house?”

“I’ve never been to this station before,” Harry admitted. “My aunt’s house is Number Four Privet Drive.”

“Can you call them?” Bill asked. 

Harry shook his head. “I don’t think they’d come and get me.”

Bill muttered something under his breath. “Come over here, I can shrink your things so it’s easier to carry them.”

A few minutes later, their pockets laden with Harry’s shrunken school things, they started to walk. The owl was let out of her cage to fly along beside them. 

It took nearly another hour to make it to Privet Drive. Ron thought he had never seen a more magic-less place. He didn’t know how Harry could stand it. 

Harry moved lethargically towards the house. There was a car in the driveway, and the lights were on. 

Bill looked around for witnesses, then resized Harry’s things. “Will you be alright here?”

Harry nodded stiffly. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “You should probably…”

“I’m glad I ran into you today,” Ron said. “Happy birthday.”

“It was,” Harry said with a faint smile. “Thanks.”

Ron and Bill retreated into the shadows, watching as Harry braced himself and walked up to knock on the door. 

“Who is knocking at this hour?” a male voice shouted.

Ron looked up at Bill, whose expression hardened. 

The door opened, revealing a woman that reminded Ron of a praying mantis. 

“Oh,” she said, “it’s you. Get in before the neighbors see you.”

“Aunt Petunia, I’ve got to—”

“Bring it all inside!” she snapped. “Make it quick!”

Harry moved fast, hauling his things in. The door slammed shut. 

“Boy!” the man shouted. “I told you, none of your freakishness!”

Something slammed in the house. Bill started forward. “What the…”

“Vernon, no! Not his face!”

“Don’t talk back to me, boy!”

Bill got out his wand and pounded on the door, Ron huddling behind him. 

The door opened. “I’m so sorry,” the woman said through the crack. “My nephew is disturbed—”

Bill held up his wand and the woman reeled back. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“Where is Harry?” Bill asked.

“The boy,” the woman spat, “is in his room.”

“I would like to see him,” Bill said firmly. 

“How dare you! You, you…freak! Weirdo!”

“Pet, who is it?”

“Nothing!”

Bill pushed the door open. “Stay outside,” he said to Ron. “I’ll take care of this.”

Ron waited anxiously, holding his wand but knowing he couldn’t do anything with it. Harry would be the one getting in trouble if they did magic at his house. 

Bill was quick. He had found Harry locked under a cupboard beneath the staircase, all his things kicked around by his family. Harry had a black eye, and his glasses had broken an arm and hung off his face. He had an empty look in his eyes that Ron hated, so Ron gave him a hug. Harry stiffened, but after a moment relaxed and hugged him back. 

“You can stay in my room,” Ron said, filled with determination.

The door slammed again, but it was just Bill, practically glowing with righteous fury. 

“I’m taking you both to the Burrow,” Bill said.

“That’s my house,” Ron whispered to Harry, as Bill gathered Harry’s things again.

“You’re both a little young to apparate, but I don’t see there’s much of a choice. Just hang on tight. It might make you a bit ill.”

Harry and Ron hung onto Bill, and with a nauseating twist they left Privet Drive and landed in the Burrow’s garden. Ron caught Harry before he fell. 

“That was…” Harry said.

“Awful?” Ron said, smiling. “It’s better when you do it yourself.

“What was that?”

Bill herded them into the house, where their mum had just been setting out dinner. He pulled her aside to explain in hushed tones what was going on, and Ron’s mum welcomed Harry as if he was one of her own. Their siblings also came out to meet the new addition, and soon Harry was put up in a camp bed in Ron’s room and sitting down to dinner with the family. 

“This has been a very strange day,” Harry said, touching the eye that had been healed by Ron’s mum, looking around at the raging sea of redheads in their natural state of chaos. His glasses had been fixed too, and Ron thought he had very pretty eyes.

Ron’s mum had learned it was Harry’s birthday and had abandoned the dining room to throw together a cake. Literally throw, based on the crashing emanating from the kitchen. 

“Seems pretty normal to me,” Ron said, pushing more food at Harry. “We’re best friends now, by the way.”

Harry smiled at him, bemused. “Sounds about right.”