Pride

Neither Harry nor Ron were inclined to return the invisibility cloak. 

“It’s mine,” Harry said, looking down at the silvery cloak folded on his bed. They had got safely back to Ravenclaw Tower while hiding under it. No one had seen them, but they did pass Lady Helena while she drifted along the fifth floor corridor. She had looked unerringly at them and nodded, but moved on without saying anything. 

“I can feel it,” Harry said, placing his hand on the cloak. “I know it’s mine.”

Ron sat next to Harry on his bed, the curtains drawn around them. 

“I think so too,” Ron said. “I can’t believe they just left it up there. Anyone could have found it.”

“Like Dumbledore?” Harry said, frowning. “He must have known they had it. If they hadn’t forgotten it, they wouldn’t have been caught out.”

Ron nodded. “They’ll know it's missing,” he said. “We’ll have to keep it secret, and make sure no one goes through our trunks looking for it.”

Harry looked at him, alarmed. “You think someone would do that?”

Ron grimaced. “Yeah. Lady Helena already knows, she’s seen us—”

“How did she see us?” Harry interrupted. “Does it not work on ghosts? Why?”

“Don’t know,” Ron said. “But it’s not just them. The castle has house-elves do all the chores, like our laundry.”

“Do you still have that box Bill sent? The one with Chocolate Frogs?”

Ron smiled. “That’s a brilliant idea, they won’t search through a box of sweets for an invisibility cloak! We could look up locking spells too. Did I tell you I got a Nicolas Flamel card?”

For the first time in Ron’s memory the castle became hostile. Not towards him or Harry, which Ron would have had to do something about, but towards Neville and his three friends. Somehow all four of them had been caught out of bed, and lost fifty points. Each. The only people happy about it were in Slytherin, or a certain caretaker and his cat. Them, and Fred and George, who took every chance to praise Neville for his hard work surpassing them.

Unlike the rest of the school, Ron and Harry hadn’t taken to jeering at Neville, who stoically bore the criticism as his Gryffindor friends closed ranks. The other Ravenclaws in their year followed their lead, not that they had many opportunities to mock the staggering loss of 200 points in one night. Exams were only a few short weeks away, and getting good grades was more important than who won the house cup, however smarmy the Slytherins acted about the slight lead. 

Ron and Harry, of course, felt a little guilty about having got away with their part in smuggling Norberta out—it wouldn’t have been possible at all if Ron hadn't owled Charlie for a favor—but none of the Gryffindors said anything so they too kept their silence. 

Things were largely peaceful for the two boys as exams approached. Ron and Harry had abandoned their extracurricular studies—healing for Harry, and divination for Ron at Harry's insistence—caught up in the frenzy to live up to their house's founder and get top marks. Not everyone fell into the stereotype. A few of their housemates had more singular obsessions. Magical creatures for Morag, quidditch for Michael, charms for Padma. Ron and Harry did as well, but both thought it was better to be well-rounded than to put all their effort into one skill, especially when it was only first year. 

Harry had a certain mania when it came to potions, determined to overcome Snape's veiled insults and efforts to downgrade him. Ron would have preferred to ignore the man, but it was impossible with how Snape targeted Harry. The only people he seemed to hate more were Neville and Hermione, along with Gryffindors in general.

The weeks passed by without incident, just the droning of their professors, the quiet sound of pages turning, and the scratching of quills against parchment.

Ron and Harry walked out of their History of Magic exam with the other first years. Harry had been getting progressively worse headaches during exams, and Ron had dragged him to the hospital wing every day rather than watch him suffer through it.

He looked at Harry with concern as they followed the crowd out onto the sunny grounds. 

"I just need to rest," Harry said, rubbing his forehead. "Binns is a nightmare, I nearly fell asleep on top of my exam."

"If it doesn't get better we're going to Madam Pormfrey," Ron said. 

"I can't take the headache potion every day, you know that," Harry said.

"There are muggle potions, right? We can get those. Maybe even go to a muggle doctor."

Harry frowned. "I'm not sure how muggle medicine works on magical people. But there are other remedies. Madam Pomfrey mentioned willow bark."

They both looked at the Whomping Willow, which had just whomped a passing bird.

"Good luck getting it," Ron said.

"Think it's carnivorous?" Harry asked.

They sat under a less violent tree, and Ron noticed Harry wasn't the only one feeling the effects of two weeks of exams. Fred, George, and Lee were somewhat insanely playing with the giant squid’s tentacles, while the squid just wanted to relax in the warm shallows of the lake. Near to where Ron and Harry sat, under another tree, Neville was rubbing his own forehead, right where his signature scar was. Seamus and Dean were stretched out, clearly relieved exams were over, while Hermione was frantically going over every question on the exam. 

“Kind of a relief she isn’t in Ravenclaw,” Ron said, openly staring at the scene. “Terry and Mandy are bad enough with all their study groups. Imagine Granger in charge of all of that.”

“No thanks,” Harry said, closing his eyes and leaning back against the tree. “I don’t want to strain myself.”

Ron laid his head on his knees. “She’s probably used to being the smartest person in a room.”

“So is everyone in Ravenclaw.”

“Yeah, but not everyone is aware of that. Or cares,” Ron added. “And I know we don’t feel that way.”

“I don’t measure my bushel by someone else’s wheat,” Harry said dismissively.

Ron snorted. “You have the weirdest sayings. But I get what you—”

“I wish I knew what this means!” Neville suddenly growled. “My scar keeps hurting. It’s happened before, but never as often as this.”

“Go to Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione suggested. 

Ron looked at Harry and mouthed, See? Harry rolled his eyes, but looked at Neville and the others as they continued talking. 

“I’m not ill,” Neville said, annoyed. “I think it’s some kind of…warning. Ever since we saw that thing in the forest.”

“Think it’s You-Know-Who, mate?” Seamus asked. 

“I think it means danger is coming,” Neville said. 

“Hermione said the Stone is safe with Dumbledore around,” Dean said. “And we never got proof Snape worked out how to get past the traps.”

Ron and Harry glanced at each other. Harry took out a book and pretended to read. 

“But I heard him threatening Quirrel!” Neville said. His voice dropped. “And that centaur told me You-Know-Who was in the forest. You were there, Seamus. You saw it too.”

They lapsed into silence. A few minutes later Neville suddenly leapt up. After exchanging some words, the four Gryffindors headed for the forest, towards Hagrid’s hut. Then Ron and Harry saw them running back to the castle. Not long after that, they came back out, had another whispered conversation on the stone steps, and quickly went back inside. 

Ron looked at where they had vanished. “What on earth is going on with them?” 

Harry shrugged, then closed his eyes.

At dinner, Ron noticed Neville and the others had become more tense. All of Gryffindor was still shunning them, given their inability to make back so many points, and the four left in a hurry, unnoticed.

Ron looked up at the head table and saw Dumbledore was missing. So were Quirrell and Snape. He turned to Harry, who was happily eating treacle tart.

"I think something is going to happen tonight," Ron whispered.

"With the Philosopher's Stone?" Harry asked, taking another bite.

Ron nodded. "They must think Snape is going to steal it."

Harry snorted. "If he's so bloody brilliant at potions he could probably make his own."

"Potions, not alchemy," Ron pointed out. 

"Then he could go ask Nicolas Flamel, he lives in Devon, right?"

"I don't think he'd tell just anyone how to make it," Ron said.

"We don't even know if the one in the castle is the real thing," Harry said. "I'd be more interested if it didn't just make an immortality potion. Living forever doesn't mean you're healthy forever." He sighed, prodding at crumbs left on his plate.

Ron glanced at the head table again. Dinner was winding down, and the teachers had begun to leave.

"We could talk to Flitwick," Harry offered.

Ron agreed, not knowing what else to do. It wasn't like they'd break into the third floor corridor themselves. His mum would kill them.

"Did you two wish to speak about your Charms exam?" Flitwick asked cheerfully. "You both did quite well! You even surpassed Miss Granger! I've never seen a pineapple do the splits before…"

"It's not that, professor," Harry said, nervously twisting the cup of tea he held. "Me and Ron are worried about something."

Flitwick took a sip of his own tea, waving for him to continue.

"It's about the Philosopher's Stone."

Flitwick spat his tea all over his desk. He quickly got out his wand and vanished the mess. "Beg pardon?"

"The Philosopher's Stone," Ron repeated. "We think Longbottom and his friends are—"

"Yes, I've heard from Minerva. Professor McGonagall, that is," Flitwick said, pouring himself another cup. "They're convinced someone is going to steal it? I can assure you, as they've been repeatedly told, that the Stone is completely safe within these walls. We teachers have gone to great lengths to ensure that."

Ron and Harry looked at each other. 

"Are you sure it's enough to keep four Gryffindors out?"

Flitwick smiled. "Four first-years, certainly."

"What about us?" Ron asked.

Flitwick sat back, considering. Ron heard him mumble to himself. He thought he heard flying, chess, and troll.

Flitwick frowned. "Perhaps not. Between the two of you, you may have the diversity of skills necessary. I did see Professor Snape looking quite irate while grading the Potions exam…"

"Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape were both missing at dinner," Ron said.

"And Professor Quirrell," Harry added.

"Yes…very well, I shall speak with the other heads of house. At the very least we can prevent students from being harmed by the traps."

Flitwick smiled at them. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Now," Flitwick said, hopping down from his chair. "It's nearly curfew. Off to bed!"

Ron woke sometime past midnight and tumbled out of bed, bumping into something. Harry was curled into a ball on the floor, clutching his head with one hand, tears streaming down his face. He was biting down on his other hand.

Ron didn't know what to do. Harry was clearly in a lot of pain, but Ron was scared to touch him and make him worse.

He made a decision, and pulled his wand from under his pillow. “I’m taking you to Madam Pomfrey. Mobilicorpus.”

Harry was lifted into the air, but curled tighter into himself.

“What’s going on?” a sleepy voice asked. Ron looked up to see Anthony peeking out of his curtains.

“Harry’s sick,” Ron said. “I’m taking him to the hospital wing.”

Anthony blinked, nodded, and his curtains shut again.

Ron didn’t stop to think. He hastened out of Ravenclaw Tower, carefully navigating Harry down the spiral staircase, and made straight for the hospital wing. The castle was quiet, but it was always quiet late at night unless you ran into Filch and Mrs. Norris, or Peeves. Ron’s stomach churned uneasily, and he kept glancing at Harry. He wasn’t sure if Harry was awake, or asleep and trapped in some nightmare. 

When he got to the hospital wing the doors were closed. He banged on them until Madam Pomfrey came out in her dressing gown and bonnet. She looked at the two boys sternly, but quickly got Harry into a bed and began waving her wand over him. 

“Can you tell me anything about his condition?” she asked Ron, frowning. 

“When I woke up he was on the floor like that,” Ron said. “He’s been getting worse headaches since exams.”

“I’m aware of that, Mr. Weasley. Can you name anything that may have exacerbated his condition?”

“No.”

Ron sat heavily in a seat, watching as Madam Pomfrey eased Harry’s hand out of his mouth. Ron could see bloody teeth marks. 

"Did being suffocated do something to his brain?" Ron asked.

"Potentially," Madam Pomfrey said absently. She turned to focus on him. "This is a matter for his family and head of house."

"His family are the muggles who helped do this!" Ron snapped. "My mum's taken Harry to St. Mungo's for appointments, she would care."

Madam Pomfrey frowned. "When Mr. Potter awakens, I will speak with him about who to contact. Now, I should send you back to your dormitory, but if you insist on remaining with Mr. Potter you will do so quietly."

Ron nodded stiffly, then looked back at Harry. His face was still twisted in pain. Madam Pomfrey came back with a vial of some potion, but just as she reached Harry's side a silver phoenix soared in.

"Poppy," it said, "you must come to the third floor immediately. Several students have been injured."

Madam Pomfrey shoved the vial at Ron. He took it, confused.

"Make sure that Mr. Potter drinks that as soon as he awakens!"

She hurried out of the hospital wing, talking to herself. "Trolls, cerberi, dead unicorns…"

Ron watched the doors swing shut behind her. "We were right," he said to Harry. Harry didn't respond.

Ron must have fallen asleep. When he came to, a blanket had been laid over him, the vial he was given was empty on the bedside table, the curtains had been drawn around Harry's area, and Harry was looking at him through squinted eyes. He didn't have his glasses on.

"Har—"

Harry put his finger to his lips and pointed. That's when Ron heard someone talking.

"I cannot believe…Quirinus, of all people!"

"Not quite, Minerva, not quite. I'm afraid Voldemort was in Hogwarts tonight…"

"Albus!"

"It's a miracle Filius had thought to check on the Stone. Two students warned him, it seems…"

"The antidote, headmaster…"

"Thank you, Severus…ah, Poppy, I think you'll find…"

The two boys listened as the story came out. 

Neville, Hermione, Seamus, and Dean had gone to the third floor corridor. They had almost been caught twice. One of them had done a body-bind on Mrs. Norris, likely Hermione, and Dean had led Peeves on a chase through the castle. This was how McGonagall had been alerted, but by then the other three Gryffindors had already got past Fluffy and into a series of traps. Flitwick, McGonagall, Sprout, and Snape followed them in, finding Sprout's Devil's Snare badly burnt, hundreds of flying keys with broken wings, and a giant transfigured chessboard where Hermione had been knocked unconscious. The troll they had replaced the previous one with was in the next room, dead. They found Seamus and Neville in a room with a potions logic puzzle. Both boys had decided the best way to solve it was to simply try them all, and ended up poisoned. Happily, none of the poisons were deadly, and the two boys were conscious but temporarily disabled. 

Ron almost gave them away by jumping in his seat when they heard Voldemort had possessed Professor Quirrell.

That explains the smell, Harry mouthed.

Ron clamped his mouth shut, trying not to laugh. The story was absolutely insane.

Dumbledore had shown up just in time to fight the possessed Quirrell. Quirrell tried to make a break for it, but saw Neville on his way out and attacked him. Neville somehow burned him, and Dumbledore was able to expel Voldemort's wraith.

"They tried to warn me," McGonagall said, her voice thick with remorse. "I told them it was too well protected…"

"It was made clear to me that clever enough students could get through," Flitwick said, his normally cheerful tone absent. "I thought I would only need to head off curious first-years…"

"Don't blame yourself for being attacked, Filius…"

Ron and Harry stared at each other. It hadn't just been students hurt.

After some more conversation the voices died down, the professors left, and the hospital wing was quiet once more.

Harry gestured for Ron to move closer

"You know what this means, right?" Harry asked in a whisper.

"No, what?"

"We can get the Stone!"

"Are you mental?" Ron hissed. "I thought you weren't interested in it?"

"Not to use it," Harry said. "At least, not the way you're thinking. Flamel lives in Devon, right?"

"According to a Chocolate Frog card, yeah."

"And Ottery St. Catchpole is in Devon."

"You want us to steal the Stone and give it back to him? Wouldn't Dumbledore do that anyway?"

A strange look crossed Harry's face. "I don't know. He's the one who decided to leave me at the Dursleys, you know? What gave him the right to do that? Why have the Stone here at all?"

Ron rubbed his arms, feeling a sudden chill.

Lady Helena emerged from the wall, startling the two boys.

"If you must do this, do it now," she whispered. "The headmaster is in his office with the other professors."

Harry pushed his blankets aside and landed on the floor.

"How did you hear us?" Ron asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I was merely watching over you," Lady Helena said. "You will find there are few barriers to those who dwell in death. Particularly if children neglect to raise any."

Harry scowled. "Silencing charms. We need to learn them."

"Make haste," she whispered, before fading away. 

Something fell onto Harry's head. It was the invisibility cloak. Ron looked up to find Peeves sticking out his tongue before flying through the ceiling.

"What the bloody hell is going on with them?" Ron muttered.

"Who cares? We need to hurry!"

Ron didn't know what time it was, only that it was the middle of the night and the castle was silent. They passed a surprising number of ghosts on their way to the third floor corridor, many whom Ron didn't recognize. Peeves was possibly the most astonishing, having made a delivery to Harry. From the stories his brothers told, the poltergeist lived up to his kind, existing only to cause trouble. Perhaps aiding in the theft of a priceless artifact counted as a type of trouble.

They reached the third floor corridor in record time. The previously locked door stood wide open. Ron could hear faint music coming from within. He and Harry approached the door cautiously. 

“I don’t even have my wand,” Harry whispered. “Or my glasses.”

Ron quietly laughed, feeling a little hysterical. They were trying to steal something that Voldemort wanted, and had apparently failed to get. It was utterly mad. 

Inside, they found a small harp charmed to play a song, and a sleeping cerberus. The trap door it had been protecting was left open. 

“In we go,” Harry whispered, grabbing Ron’s hand. 

They jumped in together, falling onto something soft, squishy, angry, and smelling very burnt.

“Lumos!” 

Ron’s wand lit up, and the Devil’s Snare retracted its vines. They slid down onto the stone floor.

“That was meant to hold off Voldemort?” Harry asked, looking back at it. 

“Let’s go,” Ron said, pulling him forward. 

The next room had hundreds of winged keys fluttering weakly on the floor. The door leading to the next room was open. 

“They must have been in a hurry leaving,” Harry said. 

The room after had a chessboard filled with toppled pieces. The next, a dead troll. The room after had vials scattered on the floor, their contents trickling out, and a pile of strange ash. The final door led to a room with only a mirror in it. 

“That was it?” Ron asked. “This can’t be it.”

It was a particularly impressive mirror. It was nearly as high as the ceiling, and had an elegant frame made of shining gold. Harry stepped out from under the cloak. 

“What are you doing?” Ron hissed.

“See the inscription?” Harry asked, squinting. “I can’t make it out.”

Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi

“I show not your face but your heart’s desire,” Ron read. “No mystery there.”

“I didn’t see anything with us standing together,” Harry said. “Though it was strange I could see us at all, under that. Two blurry lumps, but still. The cloak doesn’t work on it.”

“Be careful,” Ron said. 

Harry stood in front of the mirror, and it towered over him, glinting in the torchlight. Ron moved to the side to see his reaction. Harry had to stand close so he could actually see his reflection. He froze in place.

“What is it?” Ron asked. “What do you see?”

“Something I don’t know if I can ever have,” Harry said. “My mum and dad. We’re older. And we’re…never mind. I’m…”

Harry paused, placing a hand in his pocket. He pulled out a red stone. 

“That’s it,” Ron said flatly. “You can’t be serious.”

Harry put the Philosopher’s Stone back in his pocket. Ron walked over to him, covering them both with the cloak again. 

“Did you want to look in the mirror?” Harry asked, smiling up at him. 

Ron turned to look in the mirror. It was just him and Harry.

“No, let’s go.”

They agreed to not talk about the Stone, or the unusual behavior of the ghosts. The ghosts seemed to feel the same way. Peeves continued with his pranks, Lady Helena drifted forlornly through the castle towers, the Baron silently dragged his chains around.

The whole school was abuzz with the events in the third floor corridor. That one teacher had been injured and another one had disappeared was ripe for gossip and speculation. 

Neville remained unconscious in the hospital wing, and wave after wave of well wishers left cards and gifts for the Boy-Who-Lived.

At Harry's request, Madam Pomfrey owled Ron's mum to speak with her about Harry's condition. Neither boy knew what was going on, and both were anxious when Harry was summoned to the hospital wing. Ron went with him. They found his mum waiting next to the doors, and she hurried forward to embrace them.

"Ron! Harry! Oh dear, have you two been eating?"

"Mum!"

"Yes, Mrs…Molly."

His mum grinned at Harry. "Come along, dear. We'll speak with Madam Pomfrey together. Ron, you can wait for us. It shouldn't take long."

Ron followed them in, watching as Madam Pomfrey ushered Harry and his mum into her office, closing the door behind them.

He looked around the hospital wing, and saw that Neville was up and being visited by Hermione, Seamus, and Dean.

Ron drifted closer, hiding behind a curtain to eavesdrop.

It turned out Voldemort had been attached to the back of Quirrell's head, a detail Ron hadn't known. And that Dumbledore had told Neville the stone had been destroyed. Neville said Dumbledore had spoken to Flamel about it first.

Ron frowned. He knew the Flamels were over 600 years old. It seemed very odd that they would lend their Stone out for whatever reason and then let someone destroy it. They could have done any number of things with the stone, and could have stopped using it without it being destroyed. To destroy the only one of its kind in existence…

"Did he want you to do it?" Dean asked. "Sending you that cloak?"

"That's terrible!" Hermione said. "Neville could have been killed!"

"No, it isn't," Neville said distantly. "Don't I have a duty to face him? He killed my parents."

The conversation died. 

Seamus started talking about the quidditch match, which Ravenclaw had won by a landslide, and then they were talking about the upcoming feast.

Ron moved away, just as Madam Pomfrey came out of her office. She hurried over to Neville's bed to throw the others out. 

Ron walked with Harry and his mum to the entrance hall.

"They won't let me go," Harry said. "I could take the train by myself, I suppose."

"What are you talking about, dear?" Ron's mum asked. "You'll be staying with us from now on."

Harry looked up at her, surprised.

"Arthur and I have had a…discussion with your aunt and uncle," she said, a fierce look crossing her face. She quickly replaced it with a smile. "We've come to an understanding about your living arrangements. You'll be spending holidays with us."

"I…thank you," Harry said. "I…"

Ron's mum reached down to hug Harry, kissing him on the cheek. "I've got to get back home. I'm sure Ginny has torn the house apart."

She sighed, then pulled Ron into a hug. "Look after each other," she said. Then, with a swish of her robes, she left the entrance hall.

Harry turned to Ron, shell-shocked. "I can't…I…"

Ron huffed at him, smiling wickedly. "I asked them ages ago, you know. They probably would have offered even if I hadn't."

"Thank you," Harry said, looking at the floor. 

It wasn't until much later that day, after dinner, when Ron was telling Harry about what he had heard in the hospital wing, that he realized something.

Neville hadn't mentioned that the cloak was missing.

Ron and Harry walked into a Great Hall decorated in blue and bronze. A banner hung behind the head table, depicting an eagle with its wings spread, claws out and ready to strike.

"Well done, you two," Penelope said, beaming at them. "Slytherin's won for the past six years. We just managed to beat them out!"

Bemused, Ron looked at the head table to see an ecstatic Flitwick chatting to a surly Snape.

"We didn't really do anything," Harry said, but smiled anyway.

"I know you and Ron got about forty points the other day, but no one knows why."

The Great Hall suddenly went quiet, and Ron turned to see Neville walk in. People renewed their conversations, some standing up to look at the Boy-Who-Lived.

Dumbledore arrived soon after, and remained standing to make his speech.

Ron didn't pay much attention, as Dumbledore had a tendency to ramble and he was hungry.

Their table rose up to cheer when it was announced they had four hundred and ninety-two points, neatly beating Slytherin. It had been a very long time since Ravenclaw had won a house cup. It was practically a historic moment.

"Yes, yes, well done, Ravenclaw," Dumbledore said. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

Their entire table went horribly silent. Flitwick was staring at Dumbledore as if he had never seen him before.

"Why would he do this now?" Harry hissed. "That's so awful, to make everyone believe—"

They listened as Hermione got sixty points for a game of chess, Seamus for fighting fire with fire, and Neville for courage or some other dross.

"They…they broke so many rules," Ron whispered. "Someone died! They nearly died!"

"And finally, ten points to Dean Thomas, whose brave diversion allowed his friends..."

The Gryffindors lost their collective mind. The two hundred points Neville and his friends had lost were instantly forgiven, and the four were swamped by their housemates. Ron looked up at Flitwick, who admirably kept his face neutral as Dumbledore clapped his hands, changing the blue and bronze to red and gold.

"What…" Penelope stuttered. "This…this isn't fair."

Robbie snorted. "Dumbledore has always favored his own house."

Flitwick climbed onto his chair and shook McGonagall's hand. McGonagall, at least, looked chagrined at the turn of events.

"I bet it's because we won the Quidditch Cup," Michael said bitterly. "McGonagall was on the team in her day."

"Who cares about house cups," Sue said. "It's not like we actually get anything from it!"

"There's no way to spin this," Robbie was saying. "If we act like we don't care they'll just call us stuck-up, or think we're faking it. If we act like we do care, they'll think they can get to us this way."

"It's all about status," one of the seventh-years said. She looked aloof, but Ron didn't know how authentic it was. "It's optics. It ultimately doesn't matter, outside of house rivalry and incentivizing us to perform."

Harry had a thoughtful look on his face, but the food appeared before Ron could ask him about it.

Ron watched Hermione storm away from the exam results posted in the entrance hall. Ron thought it was in poor taste to make them public, but he chalked it up to stoking competition.

He and Harry had traded top spots in every subject. Harry was best at Defense, Potions, Astronomy, and Charms, while Ron came out ahead in Transfiguration, Herbology, and History of Magic. Neville claimed third place in Herbology and Defense, but fell below a mix of first years from various houses for all the other subjects. Hermione got third or fourth place in all of the subjects. Ron guessed she had expected to be the best at everything, and that it was a real blow to discover she wasn't.

"Congratulations," Mandy said, sidling up to them. 

Ron hadn't spent much time with her, nor their other yearmates. He and Harry tended to occupy the same orbit and keep their own company. It wasn't unusual in Ravenclaw, given how individualistic so many people in their house were, but the others had developed friendships seemingly behind Ron's back.

"It's only what's expected of us," Harry said, shrugging. "We seek knowledge. That doesn't mean it's reflected in our marks, it just happened that way."

"I wanted to make my parents proud," Ron said, realizing as he said it that it was true. His older brothers all excelled in academics. Even the twins had their own brand of genius. Ron was just…Ron. The little brother. What was special about that?

"Me too," Mandy said, looking at the posting. "Not everyone can be at the top, though."

Harry frowned. "Can't we make more room?"

Mandy shook her head, then spotted Lisa and wandered off. 

Ron sighed. "We'll have to keep it up."

Harry smirked at him. "Of course we will. Can't let your mum down."

Their trunks were packed, Scabbers had been located while gorging himself in the kitchens, and Hedwig took flight for the Burrow. They left Hogwarts as they had arrived, climbing into small boats and sailing across the lake, then walking to the train. Ron and Harry ended up sharing a compartment with Fred, George, and Lee, while Percy stalked the train corridor, riding the high of having sat twelve O.W.L.s.

When they arrived at King's Cross, Harry looked around, concerned.

"I keep thinking this is all a dream," Harry said when Ron asked what was wrong. "That I'll wake up back in my cupboard with my aunt banging on it and telling me to start making breakfast."

Ron set down his trunk. "It's real. Tomorrow we'll wake up and get the eggs. Then we can play quidditch or walk around the village. Or charm Percy's prefect badge, or set Hedwig loose on the gnomes. I don't know, we have the entire summer to work it out."

People were calling out to Neville as they waited to go back through the barrier. Ron and Harry made it through, and spotted Ron's mum immediately. Ginny helped.

"Neville Longbottom! Look, Mum! I can see—"

"Be quiet, Ginny! It's rude to point."

Harry wrinkled his nose. "She's starting next year, right?"

Ron nodded. "She's going to be like that all summer. Maybe we can go to a Cannons game. Dad gets tickets from his mate at work."

"I didn't know when people said I'd pay to see that they actually meant it."

Ron shoved him lightly. "You'll learn to appreciate them."

"Come along, boys!" his mum shouted. "It's time to go home!"