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Through the Looking Glass by icy_cool_hermione
Chapter 24 : Ron Weasley
Rating: 15+Chapter Reviews: 16

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A decision to make
By icy_cool_hermione

Another row with Hermione. Great. This time, I wonder how long she’s going to ignore me.

Ron tossed and turned in his bed, trying to shift into a comfortable position. But it seemed that no matter how much he fidgeted around, his eyes just wouldn’t stay shut for more than five seconds. The temperature of the night didn’t help either, for Ron began to feel a bit clammy.

With a sigh, he pushed the bed covers down and reached for the top of his pillow.

He felt around for it, but his fingers only managed to grasp thin air and soft cotton. He couldn’t feel anything furry.

Then, reality sunk in. Scabbers wasn’t around anymore; in fact, there was never a Scabbers to begin with. All along, there had only been a nasty traitor by the name of Peter Pettigrew. He was a horrible turncoat that forgot his roots and used the love of friendship to betray his friends. As if that wasn’t enough, he used the kindness of Ron as an advantage.

But Ron had already learned about that in his third year. Why was he still thinking about the sneaky rat, when it was such a long time ago?

Maybe the reason was because old habits die hard. He had been so accustomed to reaching for Scabbers whenever he had any problems. Even after three years, he still couldn’t get rid of the habit. He had been through the same scenario a zillion times, yet he kept repeating it over and over again.

When would he be able to stop the ridiculous habit?

A barely audible snore emanated from the bed next to him. For the tenth time that night, he turned over to his right side, and saw Harry sleeping peacefully. The pale moonlight that streamed in from the windows illuminated Harry’s face, and his scar was clearly noticeable. Without his glasses, the scar seemed to stand out even more than usual.

A foreboding feeling began to stir inside Ron. He had never seen Harry sleep so soundly before. Merlin knows how many times Ron woke up in the middle of the night due to Harry’s shouts or screams. Nightmares and visions had always troubled Harry, and those close to Harry knew that these were all caused by Voldemort.

Ron was all too familiar with it. He heard the cries, the mutters, the screams and the shouts so often that he could almost feel Harry’s pain and fear. It was growing on him, too. His friend’s torment and pressure added to his own fear of Voldemort, and his dread of the future increased.

Neither can live while the other survives…

The words of the prophecy rang clear in Ron’s mind. When Harry first told him about it a few days ago, he merely laughed and dismissed the whole idea of it as a Trelawney joke. Trelawney rarely, if ever, made accurate predictions, and this was most definitely one of her usual incorrect prophecies.

Or, at least, that was Ron’s first impression. He even joked about the fact that Dumbledore believed the old fraud. This triggered a huge amount of scolding from Hermione, which Ron found surprising at the start. Hermione never had anything positive to say of Trelawney, but when informed of this prophecy, she had, unexpectedly, taken it seriously. Indeed, it was this very topic that caused an argument between Ron and Hermione.

As time passed, and Harry’s visions became more frequent, Ron began to worry and doubt his own thoughts on the matter.

He hadn’t given much thought of the prophecy until then, when he saw Harry sleeping like a log. Maybe it was a good thing that Harry was in such a deep slumber, but something just didn’t feel right. Ron’s instincts told him that maybe something might be astray…

Ron turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling. His pyjamas were already clinging firmly to his body from the sweat that had come on from his anxiety, but he didn’t care. His thoughts were focused elsewhere…

Maybe I just don't want to believe that the prophecy is real…I don’t want to believe that Harry has to defeat Voldemort, or die trying. The thought sent shivers of fear through him.

Deciding that he wouldn’t be able to sleep, Ron got out of bed and grabbed the black leather diary from his drawer. It was a gift from Hermione, and Ron found himself using it often whenever he felt that he couldn’t rest.

He lit his wand under the covers cautiously, and began writing. The sound of the scratching of the quill drowned out Harry’s gentle snores completely.

It’s strange to see that I can trust this diary…Ginny once poured too much of herself into a journal, to the point that it nearly caused her death. But I know this diary isn't harmful…

He jotted the words down allowing the thoughts to flow easily onto the paper as they came to him.

Ron found himself thinking about the past years at Hogwarts. The end and the second war seemed to be looming closer, and Harry might be in grave peril. Actually…no, everybody, including Ron himself, and Hermione, were in danger.

Closing his eyes, he leaned back against his fluffy, white pillow and scanned through his memories of Hogwarts. He wanted to preserve them in detail as much as he could…

Ron realised that he had never faced Voldemort directly, and he had only helped Harry along the way. Would he be the sidekick once more when it was time for the second war? Would he only be able to stand aside and watch like a coward, as Harry became the one to defeat Voldemort?
~. ~

The memory surfaced, the towering chessboard stood in front of him, and realisation dawned upon Ron. They had to play their way across. After taking a few moments to decide, he directed Harry and Hermione to take their places. Then, they started the game.

“Move up, you, the pawn, yes, you,” he ordered.

The game went on, and countless black pieces were smashed and pounded to bits. The sight of it scared Ron. Wizard chess was always a fun game although it was violent; but when played with life-size chess pieces, the experience was terrifying.

Before Ron could command another piece, the white queen turned to him. Her blank face suddenly seemed so intimidating. Ron could feel all the colour draining away from his face, he imagined he looked as pale as a ghost. He felt his lips quiver, his fingers shake, and embarrassed because he couldn’t govern or control his body; it felt like jelly. This was truly the most frightened he'd ever been in his life. He remembered thinking, this is the only way—he knew it with all his heart…

The last thing he heard was Hermione’s scream…and then, all he saw was pitch-black darkness…

His hand shook as he relived the memory and wrote it onto the blank page.

Sacrifices had to be made in chess.

That was Ron’s rule in chess; sacrifice. Never hesitate to sacrifice if it contributed to victory. He had won that giant chess match, and was even awarded house points for it. Ron’s heart swelled with pride as he recalled how he had beaten McGonagall’s chess set.

Flashing at the back of his mind, unbidden was the vision…the scene of the pieces lying on the wall, most of them smashed and hit so badly until there was an enormous amount of debris on the chess board. The wreckage of the loser.

Ron couldn’t help but think that that image could very well be the result of a second war with Voldemort—the second war of the Light and Dark Side. A battleground, a few broken pieces, a few survivors, and ultimately, the winner. But who would be left standing, and which side would win; that was yet to be seen.

He glanced down at what he had just written in the diary. His eyes travelled across the page and he stopped at the word, Ginny.

Ginny. His one and only sister. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to forget the look on his sister’s face when she had escaped the Chamber of Secrets with Harry's help. The innocent, colourless drops of water that trickled down her face, mixed with the dirt and grime of the depths of that heinous chamber, and the narrow escape from a hideous death that was reflected in her eyes…

It was rather funny to think that even his little sister had faced Voldemort. In fact, she faced him even more personally than Ron had ever done. Ron had only been able to help Harry behind the lines, but he never had personal contact, not even during the time that Sirius died. Merlin, he thought to himself as he wrote, I haven't even been able to speak his name.

He wrote a line in the diary, almost unaware until he reread it.

Will I be brave or will I shame myself? The line read…

His vision became blurry and the words seemed to turn into squiggly snakes on the paper. His eyes swam with water, and suddenly, the image of the dormitory faded…

“Go! Leave me! Run with Hermione! Hurry up!” Harry shouted.

“No, we can’t just leave you, Harry. We’ll fight with you,” Hermione replied determinedly, ‘Right, Ron?’

A thud behind Ron was enough to let him know that another Auror had fallen. Ron whirled around, only to find Tonks lying on the ground, her eyes wide with shock. There was a hole burned into her robes at her chest. No curse killed faster than the Avada Kedavra; the evidence was right in front of him. Barely a minute ago, he had heard Tonks’ shouts. Now, all was left was her corpse.

“We won’t leave you, Harry. You won’t be fighting Voldemort alone. Although you have to be the one to kill him, we’ll fight against him too,” Hermione stated.

“Ron! Take her and leave! Only I can kill Voldemort, and there’s no point in you dying as well! Now, go!”

Ron looked in confusion at his two best friends, deciding which course of action he should take. Should he run with Hermione, or stay behind to help Harry?

A high-pitched cackle reverberated around them…Voldemort was there, he was near…

“Run now!” Harry yelled, as he pushed Ron and Hermione towards the exit.

“No, we won’t!” Hermione argued.

Ron found himself torn between his options. On one hand, he was afraid to die, and afraid that Hermione would die. On the other, he wanted to help Harry and fight against Voldemort. The scene around him was exactly like he had pictured it to be, a scene of mass destruction and dead bodies lying everywhere.

“Come, Hermione!” Ron grabbed her hand and pulled her away.

He saw a hooded figure head towards Harry from the other side of the room.

“Potter, all alone…left by his friends, I see. I told you, Potter, there is no such thing as love!” Voldemort laughed.

“I told them to leave because I want to be the one to kill you!”

“So you think you can kill me? Well, your friends are cowards for not even staying behind, aren’t they? But unfortunately, I don’t have any more time to waste now, Potter…Avada Kedavra!”

The green light that had hit Tonks before, now hit Harry. He couldn’t react in time, and slowly, he fell backwards, his body stiff and straight.

Voldemort turned towards Ron and Hermione. “Now it’s your turn…the filthy Mudblood and the poor old Weasel...”

‘NO!!’ Ron yelled and stumbled…

…and he found himself gripping his white bed sheet tightly. The voices of Dean and Seamus a few beds away, travelled to Ron’s ears. Apparently, nobody had heard his scream, perhaps because it was muffled by the bed sheet.

It’s a dream…it’s all a dream…Ron thought, letting out a huge breath of relief. He looked across the room, and the sun’s morning rays from the window almost blinded him. Instantly, he held his hand up to shield his eyes from the light.

Then, he shut his diary and chucked it back in his drawer. Harry was coming out of the bathroom, and heading towards Ron’s bed.

“You better get up now, you don’t want to be late to Snape’s class,” Harry said.

“Of course. I’m not going to be a lazy bum anymore,” he said, “Um, I think I still have work to just skim through for a few minutes right now. Since you’re ready, I’ll just meet you and Hermione at breakfast, okay?”

Harry shrugged. “Sure.”

The moment Harry and the rest of his dorm mates were gone, Ron grabbed his diary out hastily and jotted down on the page…

I’m not going to be weak anymore. I won’t let Harry fight alone…I vow to practise hard, and eventually, I’ll KILL Scab--no, I’ll KILL PETER PETTIGREW. I’ll make him pay for the lying he did in the twelve years. That way, I won’t ever think of him as Scabbers…and Voldemort will lose one of his followers.

And I will fight with Harry till the end. Whether I have to make a sacrifice, or die unnecessarily, I will be brave…there won’t be cowardly Ron any longer.

Neither can live while the other survives—it’s the prophecy of Harry and Voldemort, but it is also one of Harry, Hermione and I. We will stay together and fight Voldemort until the very end.

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