Solis

Chapter XXVI

As usual, Ron woke up early, just as the sun was about to rise. Feeling better, he sprinted to the window and watched the sun peek through the mountains. Afterward, he opened his bag and placed the picture frame on his bedside table. It was the only time he was awake, so he decided to unpack everything.

He was relieved that the Stolls hadn't placed a toy snake in his bag. He pulled out colorful books that his half-siblings and Annabeth had added, along with some pens and colored pencils. After an hour had passed, Ron had finally organized all his belongings. He fastened a celestial bronze dagger to a sheath attached to his pocket, along with his wand and handle, before putting on a robe.

Then Harry and the others began to wake up. "Good morning, people!" Ron greeted them.

Neville blinked at him. "Huh?"

Harry, Neville, Dean, and Seamus all headed towards the bathroom groggily. Ron peaked inside the bathroom, and Seamus who was brushing his teeth, yelped in surprise when he saw a head in the door. He waited for Harry to finish preparing his things while Ron continued to run in circles around their dorm room. Neville started to feel dizzy just watching him.

School was fun—especially with all the magic around. However, everything was a bit confusing. They struggled to find their classes, and whenever they walked through the corridors with other students, whispers followed them. Ron mostly ignored it; after all, it wasn't his fault that he was alive. His favorite part was the staircase with one hundred and forty-two steps. It was good practice for his jumping skills. But Harry pulled him away from the stairs in a panic.

Ron's favorite subject was Astronomy. Every midnight, they would gaze at the night skies. When their Professor finally asked about the precise movements of the sun, Ron didn't even raise his hand. He immediately blurted out the accurate movements and location while peering through the telescope. Professor Sinistra looked pleased with his response.

After that, Hermione hurriedly approached him, questioning how Ron knew that. The redhead just shrugged and replied that he just knew it. The girl with bushy hair didn't seem to believe him and walked away.

The only thing he tried to focus on was History of Magic, even though it was the most boring subject. Ron consistently found himself dozing off in class—after all, who would want to be taught by a ghost? But he knew he needed to learn the history, and Ron has an ADHD, he couldn't sit still and found himself just bouncing in his seat. He tried to create something out of a piece of paper while talking to Harry in a hushed voice, as everyone else in the class slept.

Ron struggled in Transfiguration class, not only because Professor McGonagall was strict, but also because she wrote in cursive font. Ron had difficulty reading it, and he struggled to write down notes. He had only managed to write three sentences so far when Professor McGonagall instructed them to change matches into needles. However, when Ron attempted the transformation, it just didn't work. Hermione was the only one who succeeded.

Before he could leave the room, Professor McGonagall called out his name, telling him that she wanted to speak with him privately. Harry gave him a concerned look, and Ron assured him that he'd be fine. He could either wait there oitsife or head to the next class without him.

"Please take a seat, Mr. Prewett," Professor McGonagall instructed, watching as Ron settled into one of the chairs.

"I've observed that you've been facing difficulties in my class, Mr. Prewett. I'm keen on ensuring my students don't develop a dislike for this subject, given its significance in the lives of witches and wizards. You've appeared rather distracted over the past three days. Is there something amiss?"

"Ma'am—I mean, Professor," Ron said, giving her a sheepish look. "I have ADHD and dyslexia, I thought the school was already aware about it.“

Professor McGonagall blinked at him for a moment and then cleared her throat. "I understand—I'll look into it. You may leave." As she muttered something under her breath.

"Hey," Harry's voice came from behind him, causing Ron to jump and spin around to see his friend when he got out from the classroom.

"Harry! You didn't have to wait for me." He beamed at the boy.

Harry shrugged. "It's okay."

The next day, during lunch, a hundred of owls began swarming towards them, dropping mail onto their table. But he didn't received anything—but Harry did—he kept waiting for Lou or the others to I.M him or send a letter, Ron realized he had forgotten about the war. He really wanted to ask bout it with the others, but they didn't seem eager to talk unless it was about Harry Potter and how he defeated "you-know-who." whoever is that.

"Hagrid wants me to meet with him on Friday afternoon. Do you want to come?" Harry asked, borrowing Ron's pen to write a reply.

"Really? Okay!" Ron replied enthusiastically.

Their next class after lunch was Potions, and Ron couldn't help but feel excited. He had overheard Hermione mention it—she was reading a book in the common room—about the healing potions. 

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking,” Their Professor began. “As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.…I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

“Potter!” Professor Snape said suddenly. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Harry immediately glanced at Ron, and the redhead shook his head in response, just as confused as Harry. He had never heard of such a thing existing before. Maybe the root of asphodel one actually came from the Fields of Asphodel themselves?

“I don’t know, sir,” said Harry. Professor Snape’s lips curled into a sneer.

“Tut, tut—fame clearly isn’t everything.” He ignored Hermione’s hand.

“Let’s try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Thought you wouldn’t open a book before coming, eh, Potter?” 

“What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said quietly. “I think Hermione does, though, why don’t you try her?” A few people laughed.

“Sit down,” he snapped at Hermione. “For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren’t you all copying that down?”

Ron stood up, his eyes wide with excitement. "Really!? Is that true?" he exclaimed.

"And who do we have here," Snape drawled, his obsidian eyes narrowing as he gave him a sneer. “Pray, enlighten me, did I, in fact, summon your name at this precise moment, Mr. Prewett? It seems your eagerness to participate knows no bounds.“

Ron sat down embarassingly, and tried to take a note instead. “And a points will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter and for the disruption Prewett.“ Ron could see in his peripheral vision that the other Gryffindors were glaring at them, while Draco and his two friends, Crabbe and Goyle, were snickering.

During the potion-making, Ron found it difficult to focus properly. Suddenly, Neville, who had been sitting next to them, made a mistake with his potion. The potion spilled onto the stone floor, burning holes into others' shoes. Ron's gasped as he saw red boils sprouting all over Neville's arms and legs.

Neville moaned in pain, making Ron and Seamus to quickly rush to his aid. Boils started appearing on Neville's nose as well. "Don't move too much, we've got you," Ron reassured him. Snape told them to take Neville to the Hospital Wing.

Harry ran alongside them as they hurried to the Hospital Wing. Along the way, Harry informed Ron that they had lost points again. Ron sighed and responded, "It doesn't matter. Neville got injured. Come on!"

Okay, it's not like Ron wanted to stay in the Hospital Wing—but he did want to. Madam Pomfrey kicked them out, especially Ron, who insisted on staying to watch how she was going to heal Neville. He was curious if she was going to apply a warm compress on the boils—or healing potions. He wanted to know how that works. Ron promised to himself he'll come back there. 

When they visited Hagrid, Ron was already on the floor playing with Fang, who seemed to like him. Harry introduced Ron to Hagrid, who sniffed and gave Ron a cautious look. The redhead raised an eyebrow at Hagrid as Fang licked his face. Later, when he sat in one of the chairs and tried Hagrid's rock cake, Ron immediately understood why it was called a rock cake.

He was about to mention it to Hagrid, but Harry nudged his leg with his own. So, Ron just sipped his tea and made a face at the taste.

“Prewett, eh'? Heard bout' rumor of you dyin', glad yer alive.“ Hagrid said, his voice a bit stiff but he was trying his best to sound upbeat.

"Hagrid, can you tell me," Ron started, setting the cup of tea down, which seemed to make Hagrid sweat a little—the redhead didn't know why. "About the rumor, I mean."

"Er," Hagrid said, "I only knew yer mum. She was the cleverest one 'round here, and everyone took a likin' to her. She'd come over for a spot of tea, she would."

"Really?" Ron's face brightened up. "What is she like? Is she beautiful?"

"She had a bit of yer look, but her hair was different," Hagrid responded in his hearty manner.

The three of them began chatting, sharing their days with Hagrid as Ron continued playing with Fang. Hagrid seemed to relax a bit more around him. Ron asked him about the Weasleys as Harry flipped through a newspaper.

"Whoa," Ron exclaimed as he also looked at the newspaper. "They move too?" He stared at the moving images in the newspaper, ignoring the letters that were jumping around.

"Magic," Hagrid confirmed.

“Hagrid!” Harry suddenly exclaimed, “that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might’ve been happening while we were there!”

Hagrid ignored him and just handed him another rock cake, but Ron remained curious. "What's Gringotts?"

"It's a wizarding bank," Harry replied, still engrossed in reading the newspaper. Hagrid grumbled in his seat. "Goblins work there to protect the vaults."

"Goblins?" Ron raised an eyebrow, then glanced back at the moving image on the newspaper. He wasn't sure how long he'd been staring at the picture of the goblin, but he couldn't help but wonder if Hecate even knew what these magical mortals were really up to. He knew he had to ask Lou and her siblings about this.

🔆

Ron paced around the common room, feeling the itch to take his bow and arrow and start practicing archery. However, he couldn't do that at the moment, despite his strong desire. He was afraid of losing his ability in archery, and he didn't want to disappoint his half-siblings and Apollo. So, he settled onto the couch instead. He didn't want to feel like a big disappointment when he returned to the camp.

He wasn't in the best mood that day. The pressure of needing to do something about his abilities weighed on him heavily. His mood only lifted during lunchtime when the owls dropped their letters. Ron felt a sense of relief when he saw letters from Tamara and Gracey. Their letters were written in big, thick fonts, making it easier for him to read.

Dear Ron,

             I heard about what happened from Lou. I did my best to research about the war in your place. I'm sorry I couldn't I.M you immediately as I was busy with clubs here, so I'll just write it.

            According to the books I've gathered, there was indeed a wizarding war that happened before you were born. I know everyone there already mentioned Voldemort, as he was the greatest dark wizard and a big oppose to the British Ministry of Magic. He worked with his people called Death Eaters and was only defeated by an infant named Harry Potter.

           Sorry, that was funny. There aren't really any books around here about the war there. Mostly, the books about wizarding wars here are about Grindelwald and Fantastic Beasts.

          That's all I can provide. I'll I.M you if I have free time.

Your friend,

Tamara Hawkins

He reached for Gracey's letter, and unlike Tamara's, her letter was a bit messier. It seemed like it had been written hastily. Despite that, Ron managed to read it as well.

Ron, lou told me, ill I.M u at sunday okay

tell me everthing also were doin sum

tricks about how wer gonna translate

books to greek ill teach u soon

Ron carefully folded their letters and hid them in his pocket, then continued with his lunch. Their next class in the afternoon was a flying lesson with the Slytherins and he felt a mixture of excitement and curiosity. While everyone else of them seemed nervous, but Ron had been flying for his whole life—albeit with Pegasus so he was eager to find out which was faster.

Ron had also heard about this Quidditch thing, a wizarding sport where you passed the Quaffle or something, while another player searched for the Snitch. It was explained to him as being similar to soccer by Dean.

"I like volleyball better."

"Volleyball?" Dean asked, they were all in their dorm room after finishing their last subject for the day chilling, before they go for dinner. 

"Yeah, it's like soccer, but with hands. There's a net between you and your opponent, and you spike the ball, and they spike the ball back, "Like this," Ron said, crumpling a piece of paper to make it into a ball and demonstrating to Dean what it looked like.

But Quidditch is different; it's like soccer, but with brooms. Ron thought about the chariot race, he'd never joined them due to his fear of being thrown to the ground hundreds of feet away. Quidditch seemed to give him a similar feeling.

They gathered outside the castle on the sloping lawn, where twenty broomsticks were laid out. The Slytherins were already there.

“Well, what are you all waiting for?” Their instructors—Madam Hooch barked. “Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up.”

Ron glanced at the broomstick in front of him; it looked like it needed to be polished or maybe Hogwarts couldn't afford new broomsticks for the first year students.

“Stick out your right hand over your broom,” called Madam Hooch at the front, “and say ‘Up!’”

“UP” everyone shouted.

Bu Ron hadn't even said the word "UP" when the broom immediately flew towards his face, smacking his nose. He heard Harry laughing at him, and the redhead narrowed his eyes at his friend. "Shut up, Harry," he said, but he noticed that Harry had managed to get his broomstick.

Madam Hooch then taught them how to mount their brooms. Their instructor kept correcting Ron's posture and grip because he looked like he was riding a horse, which made the others snicker. Ron wanted to tell her that yes, he was used to riding horses—flying horses.

“Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard,” said Madam Hooch. “Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle—three—two—”

But before they could do it, Neville beat them to it. He had pushed off hard from the ground, and Ron did his best not to panic when he saw the kid smack onto the ground with a crack.

Madam Hooch bent over to help Neville, but Ron ran towards them. "Can I come to the Hospital Wing, please?" he asked. The instructor told him to go back, but Ron insisted. Neville let out a groan of pain, so Madam Hooch eventually gave in and let Ron go.

“None of you is to move while we take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you’ll be out of Hogwarts before you can say ‘Quidditch.’ Come on, dear.” He waved goodbye to Harry before hurrying after them to help Madam Hooch.

When he returned to the Hospital Wing, he greeted Madam Pomfrey and bombarded her with questions about how to make a healing potion or if there was a magic spell that could heal wounds immediately. The matron had had enough and had to ask Madam Hooch to drag Ron away from the Hospital Wing. But Ron managed to returned back when he escaped Madam Hooch.

"Please, Madam Pomfrey, let me work with you. I'll be a good assistant," Ron said desperately. "My hand is itching to heal. I can't go a week without treating someone. Is this how my brother felt when—"

"Mr. Prewett! I'm afraid I can't allow that, and I must insist that you leave immediately. You were disturbing my other patients, and I don't want them waking up right after I've healed them. Now, off you go to your next class," Madam Pomfrey interjected firmly.

"But—"

"Get out now," she said, kicking Ron out and firmly closing the double doors of the Hospital Wing.

Ron let out a frustrated sigh and hurriedly ran to the dorm to retrieve the pouch of drachmas. He sneaked his way outside to the lake, searching for a rainbow. He threw the drachma and called the Austin and Kayla.

"Ron!" They both exclaimed excitedly.

"Let me go back home," Ron began. "This is torture. I can't practice archery, I can't heal, I can't train—I don't like it."

"Ron, relax," Kayla said. "How was school?"

"As I said, it was torture! I can't read and write properly. I can't take notes. I miss the camp," Ron said, wanting to cry.

Austin gave him a worried look. "Ron, you're overwhelmed and anxious. You need to calm down and take a break."

"Austin's right. And you'll come back to the camp during Christmas, right? Or in the summer."

"It's unfair. When I didn't attend school before, you guys weren't there. And now that I am, you two are there," he complained.

"Ron, no—you're wrong. We'll be back at school next week. We just had to help Will in the infirmary. New campers have been showing up and capture-the-flag is still going on. We'll miss you, you know. We miss you. The infirmary isn't the same without you running around to help," Kayla reassured him.

Ron nodded and hugged his knees. "How are the others?"

Austin grinned at him. "They're fine. Shane and Noel stayed here. They're excited to ride the Pegasus, but they wished you were there. They miss you too."

"Aww," Ron said, "Tell them I miss them too."

"So, tell us about your boarding school," Kayla asked.

"Uhh, it's a boarding school," Ron replied, which is obvious—he gave a nervous laugh.

Austin raised an eyebrow and then gasped, "Wait… Is that a castle!?"

"What, where!?" Ron feigned like he didn't know what he was talking about and Kayla stared at his back, her eyes widening.

“Naaaah, its just a green screen.“The redhead replied nervously. “Right?“

"Oh no, you don't—Ronald, you have to explain to us—" Then he ended the call abruptly. 

🔆

It was finally dinnertime, and Harry told him about what happened earlier when Ron was gone to get Neville to the Hospital Wing. Ron was shoving a piece of steak into his mouth as he listened to his friend. Basically, Harry and Draco had a fight, but not a physical fight or anything like that. It was because of Neville's Remembrall (and Ron had been thinking if he could borrow it from Neville). Draco took it from the ground and let Harry caught it midair.

Then Professor McGonagall caught him, but instead of giving him detention, Harry was chosen to be a Seeker on the Quidditch team. Ron's face took on a horrified expression. "But you'll die!"

"I won't die," Harry assured, "I'll get some training from Wood. Also, don't tell anyone. Wood told me it's sort of a secret."

"I'll blame Wood, whoever he is, if you die."

"I promise I won't die, and Wood is the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team," Harry explained.

Then George and Fred appeared to congratulate Harry, mentioning that they were also on the Quidditch team as beaters. Ron asked if they beat the opponents, which made both of them burst into loud laughter.

"Right, anyways," George chuckled, wiping away his tears of joy, "Mum and Dad will be coming on Saturday to meet you."

“Really?“ Ron asked, already anticipating it. 

"No, honestly," Fred said, "You see, Mum couldn't write a letter back, so Dad handled it. Mum kept crying when she heard the news; she was desperate to meet you face to face. Anyway, we’ve got to go, Lee Jordan reckons he’s found a new secret passageway out of the school.”

“Bet it’s that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week. See you.”

Ron was about to eat his steak again when he heard a familiar voice, causing them to look up to see who it was. “Having a last meal, Potter, Prewett? When are you two getting the train back to the Muggles?”  

“You’re a lot braver now that you’re back on the ground and you’ve got your little friends with you,” Harry's statement caused Ron to snort. The boy is really good at replying in a boldly manner.

“I’d take you on anytime on my own,” said Malfoy. “Tonight, if you want. Wizard’s duel. Wands only — no contact. What’s the matter? Never heard of a wizard’s duel before, I suppose?”

“Whaaaat? No physical contact, just wands? That's not fair." Ron said.

"It's a wizard's duel, not a muggle's fight. Scared, Prewett?" Draco taunted. "Well, my expectations aren't high considering you two."

Harry didn't appear to appreciate that. "We'll join," he declared.

"Harry, no!" Ron whispered anxiously. "You want to get yourself killed?"

"We could always just poke them with a wand."

"Oh, you're right!"

Draco looked at both of them and sneered. “Whatever. Midnight all right? We’ll meet you in the trophy room; that’s always unlocked.“ And then he left with Crabbe and Goyle.

“Excuse me.” They both looked up. It was Hermione Granger, sitting just near them. 

“You're excused.“ Ron said, still upset about her rudeness.

Hermione ignored him and spoke to Harry. “I couldn’t help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying and you mustn’t go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you’ll lose Gryffindor if you’re caught, and you’re bound to be. It’s really very selfish of you.”

“And it’s really none of your business,” said Harry and the redhead only gave her an apologetic look. 

At midnight, when the clock struck eleven, Ron pulled out his wand that resembled a twig. He scratched his head as he showed his wand to Harry. "Do you think it'll break if we stab them?"

"Perhaps," Harry said, gazing at the wand.

They readied themselves to quietly slip out of the dorm while everyone was asleep. However, Hermione caught them and threatened to tell Percy about their plan. Ron huffed at her in annoyance. No one could stop him now! If he couldn't leave during the day at camp, he was determined to grab the chance to leave in the middle of the night from the dormitory. The girl with bushy hair chose to head back to the dorm, but when she got there, she found herself locked out. The Fat Lady in the painting was nowhere to be seen.

"Serves you right," Ron stuck out his tongue at her.

Hermione glared at him. "Don't you have any manners?" 

"Shh!" Harry hushed them, saying he heard something but it turned out to be Neville who had been sleeping in the corner there.

"Oh, Neville," Ron said with a hint of concern as they woke him up. The round-faced boy forgot the password and got stuck outside because he couldn't remember it. When Harry asked about his arm, Ron became curious as Neville mentioned that Madam Pomfrey had mended it in just a minute—but Harry hushed him.

When they arrived at the Trophy Room—but Draco, Crabbe and Goyle wasn't there. The he suddenly realized they had been tricked—Of course, they had fallen for a trick! Now, they were on the run from Filch and Mrs. Norris (the cat) They managed to find a hidden passageway that led them near their Charms classroom.

After catching their breath, with Ron appearing completely fine and not sweating at all, he looked at them and said, "You three seriously need to practice running."

Thinking they were safe, Peeves suddenly appeared, gleefully causing the redhead to narrow his eyes. "Don't you dare—" but the poltergeist had already started shouting, so the four of them began running again. Ron just followed the others and they ended up at a door that seemed to be a dead end.

"No!" Neville cried out in despair. 

“Oh, move over,” Hermione snarled. She grabbed Harry’s wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, “Alohomora!”

The lock clicked and the door swung open — they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.

“Which way did they go, Peeves?” Filch was saying. “Quick, tell me.”

“Say ‘please'.“

“Don’t mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go?”

 “Shan’t say nothing if you don’t say please,” said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.

 “All right—please.”

 “NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn’t say nothing if you didn’t say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!” And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.

"That ghost should go back to the underworld, to the Field of Punishment," Ron muttered under his breath irritably, the redhead paused for a moment, his instincts urging him to turn around. Quickly, he drew his celestial bronze weapon as he spun around. His eyes widened in surprise at what he saw.

Neville was already staring at it, tugging on Harry's robe who looked up to see what it was. Their collective gasp filled the air.

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

However, it flinched upon seeing the celestial bronze, taking a step back. While Harry opened the door, still fixated on it and the three—Harry, Hermione, and Neville—made a quick escape, leaving Ron behind as he still held his celestial bronze weapon.

"What in the gods… what… why…oh gods…" Ron muttered confused, lowering the celestial bronze. The creature they had met was a three-headed dog—Cerberus. Of course, he knew about it. The dog's story. But that dog was supposed to be in the Underworld. How did it end up here?

The Cerberus wasn't attacking him either, but all three heads appeared frightened by the celestial bronze, snarling at him. Ron sheathed his celestial bronze and shut the door, but then he saw Harry returning to him.

"Ron!" Harry exclaimed, tugging his arm.

"Whoa," Ron replied.

"What are you doing? We need to go!" Harry said as they started running.

🔆

The next morning, they hadn't gotten enough sleep. Ron was used to it and just enjoyed his breakfast and Harry was tired but still kept talking to Ron about the three-headed dog guarding something beneath the trapdoor. Harry seemed curious, and Ron wanted to jokingly suggest that if he wanted to die, he could visit Cerberus again—but of course, he wouldn't say that. Harry was a friend, and Ron had his own questions too, which he planned to discuss with Lou later.

As usual, an owl swooped in to deliver mail. Ron didn't receive anything, but Harry did. A lengthy, thick package arrived with six owls, knocking over not just Harry's plate of bacon but Ron's as well, which annoyed the redhead.

Harry appeared excited about it, and Ron was curious. Maybe it was a big wand or something. As it turned out, it was a rather good-looking broom. Harry read the letter because Ron couldn't, which confused Harry but he read it anyway.

The broom was given by Professor McGonagall and it even had a name—Nimbus Two Thousand.

Harry immediately started his Quidditch training, leaving Ron behind in the dorm. The redhead was sharpening his arrow on his four-poster bed, while the curtains blocking his view. He wasn't even sure what the mist would create if someone caught him with an arrow. Suddenly, Seamus entered the room and called out his name, informing him that Dumbledore wanted to see him. Ron then realized that it was already Saturday.

Professor McGonagall was waiting for him outside as they walked towards Dumbledore's office. The room resembled an office, but it was circular with high ceilings and stairs on each side leading up to towering shelves. The walls were adorned with pictures of the previous headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts. There was a desk in the middle piled high with papers, parchments, opened letters and a few books and standing in front of it was the headmaster himself, along with a plump woman with red hair, another man with red hair, Percy Weasley, and the twins.

"They're here!" George exclaimed. Everyone turned to look at him, and the woman's eyes widened. She slowly approached him, while Professor McGonagall moved back a bit to create some space for them.

The woman reached out and touched his face. "Oh, dear...oh dear, Arthur! Look at him," she said as the man quickly walked over and gasped.

The woman started crying and then hugged him tightly, clutching his face again. "Oh...my dear boy, do you have any idea—have any idea how long we were told you had passed away? Oh, just look at you, you resemble my sister Margaretta. You've grown so much."

Ron was too stunned to speak. He just stared at the high ceiling there while the woman hugged him once more. “They stopped searching for you after two months, but I never gave up hope. I've always had this feeling deep down that you were alive, that someone had taken you to safety."

"Molly, my dear... we must let the Headmaster handle the situation. We still need to inform the Ministry," the man, Arthur, said sympathetically while looking at them. 

“No!" Molly exclaimed, her expression now a mix of anger and frustration, tears continuing to stream down her face. "I won't stand for the Ministry's incompetence! They just gave up so easily, it's a child we're talking about, my sister's child. It's absolutely outrageous. They even made a memorial as if that would make up for it—utterly ridiculous!"

“Mum.“ Percy said, rushing to her side to calm her down. Ron could see that the twins were clearly uncomfortable, having never been in such a serious situation in their previous years. "Professor Dumbledore," Percy called out to him.

Dumbledore offered a gentle hum, his eyes kind and understanding. "It's all right, my dear boy. This has been quite a shock for Mrs. Weasley. Even I found myself taken aback by the sight of Mr. Prewett alive, thriving, and in good health at the sorting cermony before."

It took time for Mrs. Molly to calmed down, and Ron helped her out, taking her hands. 

"Ah, the power of family love," Dumbledore murmured softly. "Mr. Arthur's suggestion is indeed valid. We should consider informing the Ministry about this development. However, I want you to know, Mrs. Molly, that the decision is ultimately yours. Your rights in this matter must be respected." He said, eyes twinkling.

"No need to involve the Ministry," Mrs. Molly said, her voice firm yet warm as she smiled at Ron. "I'd prefer to have a talk with you, Ron, about where you've been and who you've been with. I'd love the chance to meet them and express my gratitude for everything they've done."

"I—" Ron hesitated, feeling the weight of everyone's attention on him. Why did situations like this always leave him feeling quiet in the corner and nervous? "I, well, you see—Mrs. Molly—I mean, Aunt Molly? You see, I lived far away, ugh, they uh... they kept me, found me, and uh—"

Molly's brow furrowed in concern. "Goodness gracious, your accent is different, and you've been so far away? Please, tell me where you've been all these years."

"Molly, we shouldn't pressure the boy," Arthur said gently. "He doesn't know us yet."

“Dad's right, mum.“ Fred said. 

“But—”

"Molly, my dear," Arthur began, "I understand you're concerned and worried, but the boy should be given some time to get to know us. We're his extended family."

Molly sighed and finally let go of Ron. The redhead breathed a sigh of relief because he couldn't just reveal everything to them.

"So... what now?" George asked.

Percy glared at him. "Seriously, this is why I shouldn't have brought you two here."

"Why me?" Fred protested. "Oi, George, you shouldn't have just gotten here."

"No, Fred, it's you our brother is talking about."

"No, it's you—"

“—It's you—”

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, silencing the twins, and approached the headmaster. She whispered something to him, and Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he nodded. "Ah, I understand. Thank you, Professor McGonagall, for your insight."

He then turned his attention to them. "Professor McGonagall has suggested that Mr. Ronald Prewett here should reside with the Weasleys to get to know the family better. However, we must know who had been caring for you, my boy, so that we can engage in a discussion with them."

"And of course, we still need to hear your opinion and obtain your permission regarding this matter," Dumbledore added, nodding at Ron.

Molly's eyes brightened at the suggestion, but that only made Ron reconsider his decision. He glanced up at Professor Dumbledore and their eyes met briefly before the redgead blinked and shifted his gaze to the towering bookshelves.

"Okay," Ron finally decided. The Twins grinned widely and high-fived each other.

Molly hugged him tightly, almost choking him. Arthur stepped forward, expressing his desire to know more about him. Percy shook his hand firmly.

"But!" Ron interjected, rushing to stand in the middle of them. "But, I can't promise that I can stay with you guys every day," he said, taking a breath. 

"I can't really say right now what my other life is like, but I can't just leave them. I promised that I'll come back there if something happens and if they need me and that place is very important to me. I've lived there for my entire nine years. They took care of me, fed me, and everything—and I really want you, Aunt Molly, Uncle Arthur, and all of you to meet them, but—that will take some time.“

"Oh, Ronald, my dear," Molly said, hugging him tightly again. "We'll be alright with it. We just want you to be a part of our family, to meet your other cousins," she explained warmly.

"Welcome to the Weasleys," Percy said. "We do have an extra room available for you, if you're interested."

"You mean that room that's haunted?" Fred chimed in.

"Oh, Fred. I still remember when we went there, and someone grabbed me," George said, shivering.

“That, I do, George.“ Fred said. 

“And you want Ronnikels to stay there? Oh no.“ 

“Oh no, indeed.“

"Stop it, you two!" Molly scolded, her tone stern. "Rubbish. That room is perfectly safe, and it had always been Margaretta's room. There are no ghosts or anything of that sort in there.“

"It's fine!" Ron said, smiling at them.

Professor Dumbledore seemed amused by their interactions, allowing them a moment to converse.

🔆

Another week passed, and Ron hadn't received any call from Lou since then. He wondered why; he tried I.M'ing her, but she didn't respond anymore. He sent letters to Tamara and Gracey about his situation. Otus, the owl that still confused Ron with how it managed to travel so far, nipped his head before delivering the messages.

He wanted to I.M Kayla, Austin, and Annabeth, to tell everyone about his situation, about finally meeting his other family. However, he couldn't because the following week brought a wave of homework. The pressure of deadlines weighed on Ron. He struggled with the assignments, and Harry wasn't there to help as he was still busy with Quidditch training.

Professor McGonagall, who was aware of his situation and had researched it, extended the deadlines for Ron's assignments. However, this only seemed to worsen things. She shouldn't have given him a deadline at all.

He even forgot to read Tamara and Gracey's replied letters that was tucked in one of his books while he was trying to complete his assignment. Hermione gave him odd looks at the common room when she noticed his writings.

"What?" Ron replied.

"You don't know how to write?" Hermione asked.

Ron narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm dyslexic, now please, if you don't mind.“

“Oh.“ The bushy girl responded. 

When Harry joined him the next day, Ron immediately copied his assignment, and Harry allowed him to do so. Because, why wouldn't he? Ron was in desperate need. It was a challenging month for Ron, filled with assignments, note-taking, and deadlines—he hated deadlines. The professors there were also confused by Ron's answers in the assignments they assigned. His work was messy and had many erasures.

“Sorry.“ Ron apologized as he passed his late assignment to Professor Flitwick. The redhead felt like he was the dumbest student at Hogwarts. Everyone else managed to submit their assignments on time, even Neville. 

Only then did he realize it was already November, and to his horror, he had forgotten to message everyone at the camp. Panic set in, and he first sent an I.M to Annabeth, who didn't respond to his two attempts. Next was Lou, who also didn't respond. Then he tried Will, and even Nico.

Ron sobbed in frustration as he tried to contact Nico. Just as he was feeling overwhelmed, the mist shimmered and Nico appeared.

"NICO, I TOLD YOU TO ANSWER MY CALL," he shouted.

Nico, who looked paler than the last time Ron saw him, grumbled. "I had some business to do for my dad. What happened to you?"

"I CAN'T CONTACT THE CAMP!"

"Ron, stop shouting. I'm in the Underworld. You don't want Cerberus to wake up. I'm close to it," Nico said.

Ron panicked when he remembered the three-headed dog again. "Look, I have so many things to tell you, but I have questions too since I can't contact Lou. I'll introduce her to you when I return back, but there's a question and this question is—"

"Just ask the question, will you?" Nico rolled his eyes.

"Okay, okay!" Ron replied, taking a breath. "I don't know how to say it, but is it possible that a rare monster—like very rare, as in the only one of its kind—could have a duplicate?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, for example, Cerberus. You knew he was in the Underworld, but what if you suddenly saw another one in a different place?"

Nico narrowed his eyes on him, “Why, you saw one?“

“Just answer my questions!“ Ron huffed out.

The pale boy paused for a moment to think and then looked straight at him. "It's impossible unless you used a specific dark magic to create one, and with the help of any gods, but it wouldn't be the original itself, just another copy but weaker—And no one really knows about it, why?"

"Oh, just asking—a thought," Ron said nervously.

"You called me just to ask that? There must be a reason."

"No, nope, of course not! I'm also here to ask about what happened to the camp."

"Why, what happened?" Nico asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You don't know? I can't contact anyone at the camp," Ron said exasperatedly.

"I haven't contacted everyone there," Nico clicked his tongue. "But something must have happened. I'll try to ask my dad about it—see if I can get answers."

"Nico," Ron said, "can you get me out of here if something really bad happened to the camp?"

The pale boy seemed to think about it for a moment before glancing at his side and then at Ron. "Depends."

"Oh, pleeease, Nico," the redhead pleaded.

"I have to go," Nico said and began looking around his surroundings. "We'll talk soon, goodbye—" But the mist had already disappeared before Ron could respond.

Ron hurled a rock into the lake and stomped his feet as he made his way back to the castle.