Ron Weasley (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alwaysreturns) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
riddlelog2017-09-05 01:56 pm
alwaysreturns) wrote in riddlelog2017-09-05 01:56 pm
But I went down to the demonstration
The Closet (you can't always get what you want)
[Making the decision to absolutely not register wasn't a hard one to make. After all, it can't be much worse from the way he's been living, can it? He's spent a few weeks on his own since leaving Harry and Hermione - since trying to get back to them, he corrects himself - and they definitely weren't good weeks or weeks he really wants to repeat, but the important point is that he survived them. So. He can survive in 1980 where things are worse and better at the same time, can't he?
Probably. Yes. Merlin.
In any case, Ron survived by bumming his late nights and early mornings in seedy pubs, where he quickly learned they asked fewer questions than the more upright establishments. The muggle ones were safer, but the first time he tried to order had gone miserably ("do you have Capuchins?") and so Ron tried to lean on the wizarding establishments that were less likely to rat him out.
He's really not sure how that brings him to this part of London, but here he is late at night, worried about being caught with the curfew, and unwilling to lean on Bill for a place to sleep. The Closet (the Closet, he wonders, really?) looks as seedy as it gets, and Ron tugs his stolen muggle baseball cap lower over his face as he steps inside. At least, he reckons, he doesn't have to worry about people recognizing his face much in this year.
On the other hand, he's not too keen on how many names and faces he's recognizing on people in power.
A quick look around tells him this was probably the most massive bloody mistake he's ever made in his life to date; there are a lot more people inside than he thought there would be. Ron slides into a booth that's in as dimly lit a corner as he can find, trying to look as unobtrusive as he can and running through the names of purebloods he went to school with who aren't part of the Sacred twenty-bloody-eight.]
Lurking Outside the Ministry (but if you try sometimes)
[Ron knows at least a few of the muggle entrances to the Ministry, and he spends the better part of his day staking them out. It twists his stomach up, and he tells himself it's just because he got splinched after their last escapade inside, but really it's because he's doing this alone and he wishes to Merlin he wasn't.
He knows he could ask Bill, maybe even find Dean to watch his back a bit, but it's not the same. Besides, right now he just feels like he'd be a danger to them. What if they've decided to register? Ron wonders if this is what Harry felt like, the night he arrived at the Burrow. Wanting to leave to protect everyone else.
It's probably hypocritical to stick to his own, but he's been weeks on his own, after all. Silly to change that now, isn't it?
Yes. Very silly.
So it's a stake out. A very long, boring stakeout of at least three different entrances. He tries to make note of faces, match them to names that fit older versions. He doesn't like what he sees much at all, and he likes his prospects of getting into the Ministry and down to the Department of Mysteries even less. If Harry isn't born yet and Riddle is Minister, is there even a prophecy? Bill brought it up, and Ron hasn't been able to let it go.
He also hasn't been able to let go of the fact that his best mate might not ever exist in this world, and that teases all kinds of things that he is just not equipped to think about. Better to be doing something, definitely.
Even if what he's doing is technically doing nothing. Shouldn't he have donuts for something like this?
Ah, there goes his stomach. Where can he get donuts?]
Closed to Hermione (you get what you need)
[Being stuck out of time, in the wrong past, is exhausting. Ron doesn't understand how this administration came to be, doesn't understand how this curfew could have gone on for a decade without something like the Order popping up to fight it. Or if it does exist, it's hiding itself bloody well, and maybe that's just as bad. People are disappearing, and if his conversation with Harry's mum (that is a whole different issue that he is doing very, very badly with) is anything to go by, no one even expects Riddle or his lackeys.
It's enough to make a bloke wonder if hes' gone loopy. Or at least go loopy enough to start putting graffiti on walls. 'Death Eaters Among Us,' maybe, or 'Don't Trust the Ministry.'
He's never wanted to graffiti something so bad in his life.
Maybe it's the frustration that makes him find the deluminator in his pocket. He clicks and unclicks it, treating it like a ye olde fidget spinner that's only moderately more annoying what with its light theft. He doesn't even think about it as he leans against a building in Diagon Alley, staring at the building that ought to be Fred and George's joke shop. He could really use a laugh right about now.
Ron.
He stares blankly for a moment, wondering if he imagined it. Is he just imagining things now? But no - no. That was Hermione's voice, calling him. Calling him. Maybe he is going loopy, because he's suddenly so certain. It couldn't have been more than a whisper, but it was her.
When he pulls the deluminator out, turns away from the main road and clicks it, a little ball of light comes out. The few lights on around him stay lit, but that ball just hovers in front of him, and somehow he's not afraid at all when it floats toward him, through him, right into his heart. He touches his chest, and he just knows.
She's here. And the deluminator will take him to her. Ron closes his eyes and disapparates.]
The Dog House; Closed to Harry, James, Sirius (We decided that we would have a soda)
[After leaving Lily with the address to James Potter and Sirius Black's house - and don't worry, the fact that he will eventually have to think about leaving Harry's mum's shop to go to his dad's and godfather's home is going to lay him up - Ron wastes no time. Last he saw Harry, they fought. Last he saw him, Ron told him so many terrible things, and he hates the bloody locket for making him say it, but he mostly hates himself, for the way a piece of You-Know-who brought that out of him.
He feels shitty, and the only thing to do about it is fix things in the most awkward, teenage boy way. So, par for the course.
When he reaches the address Lily wrote down for him, he stares at the door, looks between it and the paper in his hand. All right, Ronald. Apologizing isn't so hard, is it? (Yes it is. It is so hard.)
Well, if he keeps steeling himself, there was no point in practically breaking Lily's door down, was there? So. He shoves the paper in his pocket and knocks, and somehow resists the urge to knock again after three seconds, and again three seconds after that.]
[Making the decision to absolutely not register wasn't a hard one to make. After all, it can't be much worse from the way he's been living, can it? He's spent a few weeks on his own since leaving Harry and Hermione - since trying to get back to them, he corrects himself - and they definitely weren't good weeks or weeks he really wants to repeat, but the important point is that he survived them. So. He can survive in 1980 where things are worse and better at the same time, can't he?
Probably. Yes. Merlin.
In any case, Ron survived by bumming his late nights and early mornings in seedy pubs, where he quickly learned they asked fewer questions than the more upright establishments. The muggle ones were safer, but the first time he tried to order had gone miserably ("do you have Capuchins?") and so Ron tried to lean on the wizarding establishments that were less likely to rat him out.
He's really not sure how that brings him to this part of London, but here he is late at night, worried about being caught with the curfew, and unwilling to lean on Bill for a place to sleep. The Closet (the Closet, he wonders, really?) looks as seedy as it gets, and Ron tugs his stolen muggle baseball cap lower over his face as he steps inside. At least, he reckons, he doesn't have to worry about people recognizing his face much in this year.
On the other hand, he's not too keen on how many names and faces he's recognizing on people in power.
A quick look around tells him this was probably the most massive bloody mistake he's ever made in his life to date; there are a lot more people inside than he thought there would be. Ron slides into a booth that's in as dimly lit a corner as he can find, trying to look as unobtrusive as he can and running through the names of purebloods he went to school with who aren't part of the Sacred twenty-bloody-eight.]
Lurking Outside the Ministry (but if you try sometimes)
[Ron knows at least a few of the muggle entrances to the Ministry, and he spends the better part of his day staking them out. It twists his stomach up, and he tells himself it's just because he got splinched after their last escapade inside, but really it's because he's doing this alone and he wishes to Merlin he wasn't.
He knows he could ask Bill, maybe even find Dean to watch his back a bit, but it's not the same. Besides, right now he just feels like he'd be a danger to them. What if they've decided to register? Ron wonders if this is what Harry felt like, the night he arrived at the Burrow. Wanting to leave to protect everyone else.
It's probably hypocritical to stick to his own, but he's been weeks on his own, after all. Silly to change that now, isn't it?
Yes. Very silly.
So it's a stake out. A very long, boring stakeout of at least three different entrances. He tries to make note of faces, match them to names that fit older versions. He doesn't like what he sees much at all, and he likes his prospects of getting into the Ministry and down to the Department of Mysteries even less. If Harry isn't born yet and Riddle is Minister, is there even a prophecy? Bill brought it up, and Ron hasn't been able to let it go.
He also hasn't been able to let go of the fact that his best mate might not ever exist in this world, and that teases all kinds of things that he is just not equipped to think about. Better to be doing something, definitely.
Even if what he's doing is technically doing nothing. Shouldn't he have donuts for something like this?
Ah, there goes his stomach. Where can he get donuts?]
Closed to Hermione (you get what you need)
[Being stuck out of time, in the wrong past, is exhausting. Ron doesn't understand how this administration came to be, doesn't understand how this curfew could have gone on for a decade without something like the Order popping up to fight it. Or if it does exist, it's hiding itself bloody well, and maybe that's just as bad. People are disappearing, and if his conversation with Harry's mum (that is a whole different issue that he is doing very, very badly with) is anything to go by, no one even expects Riddle or his lackeys.
It's enough to make a bloke wonder if hes' gone loopy. Or at least go loopy enough to start putting graffiti on walls. 'Death Eaters Among Us,' maybe, or 'Don't Trust the Ministry.'
He's never wanted to graffiti something so bad in his life.
Maybe it's the frustration that makes him find the deluminator in his pocket. He clicks and unclicks it, treating it like a ye olde fidget spinner that's only moderately more annoying what with its light theft. He doesn't even think about it as he leans against a building in Diagon Alley, staring at the building that ought to be Fred and George's joke shop. He could really use a laugh right about now.
Ron.
He stares blankly for a moment, wondering if he imagined it. Is he just imagining things now? But no - no. That was Hermione's voice, calling him. Calling him. Maybe he is going loopy, because he's suddenly so certain. It couldn't have been more than a whisper, but it was her.
When he pulls the deluminator out, turns away from the main road and clicks it, a little ball of light comes out. The few lights on around him stay lit, but that ball just hovers in front of him, and somehow he's not afraid at all when it floats toward him, through him, right into his heart. He touches his chest, and he just knows.
She's here. And the deluminator will take him to her. Ron closes his eyes and disapparates.]
The Dog House; Closed to Harry, James, Sirius (We decided that we would have a soda)
[After leaving Lily with the address to James Potter and Sirius Black's house - and don't worry, the fact that he will eventually have to think about leaving Harry's mum's shop to go to his dad's and godfather's home is going to lay him up - Ron wastes no time. Last he saw Harry, they fought. Last he saw him, Ron told him so many terrible things, and he hates the bloody locket for making him say it, but he mostly hates himself, for the way a piece of You-Know-who brought that out of him.
He feels shitty, and the only thing to do about it is fix things in the most awkward, teenage boy way. So, par for the course.
When he reaches the address Lily wrote down for him, he stares at the door, looks between it and the paper in his hand. All right, Ronald. Apologizing isn't so hard, is it? (Yes it is. It is so hard.)
Well, if he keeps steeling himself, there was no point in practically breaking Lily's door down, was there? So. He shoves the paper in his pocket and knocks, and somehow resists the urge to knock again after three seconds, and again three seconds after that.]
dog house.
Being here is the happiest he's been in so long.
He doesn't forget what he's got to do, of course. A weight like that, a prophecy like that, isn't something Harry Potter can ever forget. He is still the Boy Who Lived, and Voldemort still exists - both here and in his own time, but more dangerously in his own time - which means his part in this whole matter is far from over.
For now, however, there isn't a whole lot he can do besides figure out a way to get back home, and even before that, there isn't much more to be done besides enjoy the time he has with his family, surreal as it may be.
He'd been reading one of Sirius' Quidditch magazines when he hears the sound of a knock at the door. He's not sure if either of them are expecting anyone but he wonders if it might be his mum. He gets up from his perch and calls at large: ]
I'll get it!
[ And then, he opens the door.
Cue Harry's expression turning from simple amusement into something of utter shock and relief mingled into one. ]
Ron?
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No, those won't do. Hi, is Harry there, it's important. Or maybe he'll just shove on through, find Harry and - something. He's not sure about the rest.
He definitely doesn't expect Harry to open the door himself. There's about three seconds of surprise where he just stares, and then in true Ron Weasley fashion he's pushing through the door to throw both arms around his best mate. Last time they were this close, he was trying to punch Harry in the face.
He's trying not to think about that. Trying not to think about everything he said. You have no family. And here he is, staying with them. Merlin.]
Harry! Your mum said you'd be here - I met your mum. [She's great??? do they talk about this, not talk about this, what happens here]
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Ron's here.
Ron's here and he's solid and real and Ron's here.
Even in all the bliss of finding his parents and Sirius again, it's like a piece of the puzzle that makes Harry Harry suddenly slots into place. He feels a little less empty having his best mate standing at the threshold of his dad's flat. ]
I - yeah. [ Where does he even begin with that? ] I'm staying with my dad, Ron. My dad. [ Cue the not-so-secret grin that threatens to split Harry's face in half. ] And my mum's brilliant, isn't she? She was one of the first people I met when I got here.
[ He pulls Ron in to shut the door. ]
Ron, I can't believe you're here.
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[He can't imagine it for himself: Ron is a sympathetic sort of bloke who doesn't struggle to relate to people. But he can't imagine losing his mum and dad, all his siblings. Much as he's wished their places were traded in the past - and he has wished it in all kinds of undetailed ways, just to be - enough - Ron can't imagine having no one except the Dursleys and a few friends (one of whom obviously lets you down a few times but--no, that's for later).
Tugging off the muggle baseball cap he's been using to make it slightly less obvious he's a Weasley, Ron stuffs the brim into his back pocket. He's rough around the edges in ways Harry probably hasn't seen him before: haggard from too many days of too little sleep on nothing close to a bed. That was one of the worst parts of leaving, aside from feeling like the underside of a schoolroom desk - he had his rucksack, sure, but Hermione had all the important, useful stuff. It's not like he had a ten of his own or anything close to an undetectable extension charm. His hair is still in need of a cut.]
Yeah, yeah she is - think I practically broke her door down, when she said she'd seen you. [Does he owe Lily Evans an apology? Ron is entirely fuzzy on how he acted, there.] She looked just like that picture you've got. [That was the only way he'd ever seen her, or his dad for that matter, the mirror of Erised had had more important things to show him.]
Is he here?
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It's also his flat and jokes aside, it isn't that big. James heard the knock and Harry's offer to grab it and naturally since there was no follow up to that-- he had to come see who it was for himself. Maybe it's just Lily and she's talking to their son like that's just the most natural thing in the world to be twenty and have a fifteen year old.
Alas, while there is now a ginger in his home, it's not the one he was expecting. Unless Lily has suddenly turned into a man through some kind of great potion mishap and then that would be something, wouldn't it?]
Is who here?
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'I'll get it' and ensuing conversation as well, and he can't help but be curious. He's certainly a good deal younger than Ron's used to, less slightly-mad looking and with ridiculously fluffy hair, peering over James' shoulder.]
Hallo, who's this?
im sorry for this dumb boy
He can't help but grin as he waves between Ron and James-and-Sirius. ]
This is Ron Weasley, he's my best mate. Ron, this is James Potter and Sirius Black.
[ His heart is pounding so hard right now, he's so elated. ]
pinches his cheeks
James Potter and Sirius Black. And Sirius looks great and not haunted by Azkaban or, well, dead.]
Hi.
[Does he croak? Maybe a tiny bit. But he does lift his hand to wave.]
It's - [this is so weird Harry is so happy be happy Ron be happy try harder; he even manages a smile, because Harry happy like that isn't common, and it's infectious.]
It's great to meet you both.
harry you are such a nerd
The rest-- well, it's not like he's going to kick Ron out.]
Brilliant. You can tell us the embarrassing stories Harry's left out.
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[Blimey, but Harry looks a lot like his dad - Ron never paid much attention to it before, it's different when it's just in pictures. He glances at his friend from the corner of his eye, pleased and worried and - well, how's he going to take it when they get all this sorted and go home?
If they go home.
Naw, Ron doesn't want to think about this now.]
He tell you about practically swallowing a snitch yet?
just gonna jump back in here???
He doesn't need to hear about all the other stories either, not really. Harry's life has been a series of odd, embarrassing stories. His father doesn't need to hear about them so soon into their brand-new relationship. ]
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Harry raises his eyebrows and glances between his (future)godfather and his (future)dad. He's only heard the bare minimum of stories, most of them pretty standard, somewhat vague.
His dad had gotten into trouble back at Hogwarts. His dad fancied his mum for a long time. His dad was good at Quidditch. No real story. ]
Well, I would like to hear more about da -- er. James. [ Good save. ] And you. All of it.
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There's a bit of a pause, when Harry stumbles over what to call him and James would be lying if he didn't encounter the same awkwardness whenever he thought too hard on it.]
You can--er, well. Call me dad if that's easier.
[Easier is probably not the right word. Bloody insane seems to fit better.]
Or Prongs.
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Nope. He doesn't want to focus on that. It makes the guilt coil in the pit of his stomach.
Eyes darting between the Potters, he tries for a smile. And why shouldn't he? Harry doesn't seem mad at him, and so far Harry's dad - James - Prongs? and Sirius have been about as welcoming as Ron could imagine.]
There's the time we single handedly won the House Cup in our first year, too. Not really embarrassing, but it's a good story.
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throw him for a bit of a loop, of course, but it's mostly in an oddly pleasant way. Because of course he'd have a kid with Lils, it only stands to reason. (If only they'd get back together now, then Sirius would be content. Not that he'll say as much out loud.)]
Go on then; I don't know if we ever even managed that. Mostly lost house points, really.