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FIC: Erised (Ron, Gen)
Title: Erised
Author: shiiki
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, Gen
Fandom: Harry Potter
Word Count: 3,006
Summary: Chapter 12 of PS/SS ('The Mirror of Erised'), from Ron's point of view.
Notes: Inspired by a re-read of chapter 12 of PS/SS.
Harry was still asleep.
This struck Ron as odd. Harry was a consistent early riser even in the holidays--Ron imagined it was force of habit, what with Wood's term-time morning practice regime--and he wondered if his friend might be ill. If that was the case though, letting him have a lie-in probably wasn't the worst idea. Ron waited twenty minutes, flipping through an old Martin Miggs, but then the growling of his stomach demanding breakfast grew too insistent to ignore.
When he climbed back through the portrait hole half an hour later, bearing an untidily-wrapped stack of bacon, kippers and toast, Harry was stumbling down the spiral staircase, rubbing at his eyes.
'Morning!' said Ron. 'You feeling all right, mate?'
Harry blinked slowly, then smiled. 'I've got to tell you something.' He looked furtively around the common room. A few older girls were gathered by the fireplace, their heads bent together over something. Their quiet chatter was punctuated now and then by stifled giggles. None of them were paying the least attention to Ron and Harry.
'C'mon, then,' said Ron, steering Harry over to the window-seat furthest from the fire. 'You can tell me while you eat.'
Harry picked up a slice of toast, but didn't start in on it. He turned it over in his hands twice before saying, 'I used my dad's cloak last night.'
Ron felt his eyes go wide. 'The Invisibility Cloak?'
'Yeah, I thought maybe I could see if Flamel was in the Restricted Section, but I almost got caught--did you know the books in there scream?--and I barely got away from Filch, but then I found this mirror--'
Ron felt something turn over in the pit of his stomach. So Harry had been out half the night adventuring, and he hadn't thought to ask Ron along. Granted, it was Harry's cloak, and it was maybe too valuable a thing to share ...
'--my whole family, it was amazing!' Harry finished his tale and grinned at Ron, his eyes shining brightly.
Ron tried to squash down his resentment, but he couldn't help griping, 'You could've woken me up.'
'You can come tonight,' said Harry. 'I'm going back, I want to show you the mirror.'
Harry's words were matter-of-fact, like he took it for granted Ron would be coming along. He wanted to share this with Ron after all: the cloak, his family ... The hint of bitterness gnawing at Ron vanished, leaving a spark of excitement at a good adventure to come.
'I'd like to se your mum and dad,' said Ron. He'd been feeling curious about Harry's dad in particular since Christmas--what must he have been like, this bloke who'd owned an actual Invisibility Cloak?
'And I want to see all your family, all the Weasleys, you'll be able to show me your other brothers and everyone!'
Ron wondered briefly if Harry was cracked. There was nothing particularly interesting about Ron's family. They were all alive and doing ordinary things. How fascinating could they be? 'You can see them any old time. Just come round my house this summer.' A thought occurred to him--what if the mirror only showed dead people? Magical objects could be odd that way. Ron mentioned this, and Harry shrugged. He started to get a faraway sort of look in his eyes.
'Shame about not finding Flamel, though,' said Ron a moment later. Harry made a noncommittal noise. He'd put down his toast. Ron frowned. Harry hadn't even touched the rest of the food. 'Have some bacon or something, why aren't you eating anything?'
'M'not really hungry,' muttered Harry.
'You all right? You look odd.'
'I'm fine.'
The day was bright and sunny, so they got their cloaks out and took Harry's Nimbus down to the Quidditch pitch. Harry magnanimously let Ron fly it first, and he took ecstatically to the skies, not about the pass up an offer of a whole house with a league-standard broom. Harry passed on flying himself. He was distant and dreamy all day, picking at his food through lunch and dinner.
Once the castle had settled in for the night, though, Harry seemed to come alive. His eyes gleamed as he fastened the cloak around both of them. It was awkward getting out of the portrait hole, and it turned out they could have donned it after leaving: the Fat Lady had gone off somewhere.
'Where's this room, then?' asked Ron.
'Er ... I can't remember how I got back from it.'
'You didn't think about that before we left the common room?'
'Shh, it's okay, we'll go to the library first. I think I can figure it out from there.'
He couldn't, though. They tiptoed through the corridors for what seemed like ages. The castle felt like it was getting progressively colder by the minute. Ron rubbed his freezing hands together under the cloak, wondering if Harry had just imagined the whole thing after all.
'I'm freezing, let's forget it and go back,' he said at last, after the twentieth or so room they checked failed to turn up any mirror, magical or otherwise.
'No!' said Harry fiercely. 'I know it's here somewhere!'
Something moved ahead of them and Ron clamped his hand quickly over Harry's mouth. Both boys stood stock-still, holding their breaths, but it turned out to be just one of the castle ghosts. She drifted serenely through a wall and was gone. Harry started moving determinedly, leaving Ron no choice but to stick close unless he wanted to take his chances wandering fully visible back up to Gryffindor Tower. By now, he was fully regretting the adventure--he was tired and his feet were numb with cold.
Ron was about to suggest again that they give it up when Harry jerked forward suddenly, so quickly that he almost yanked the cloak off Ron.
'It's here--just here--yes!' Harry pushed through a door and darted forward out from under the cloak, making a beeline for a large, ornately-framed mirror that stood ostentatiously in the centre of the room. A wide smile spread across his face as he gazed happily into the glass.
Ron peered over Harry's shoulder but he could only see Harry's reflection in the mirror. Ron let the cloak fall, but spookily, the mirror still did not reflect him--just Harry, beaming madly back at them.
'See?' said Harry in a soft, delighted voice.
'I can't see anything.'
'Look! Look at them all ... there are loads of them ...' Harry reached one hand out to the glass. His fingertip touched his reflected one.
Ron shivered slightly, wondering yet again if his friend had indeed gone mad. 'I can only see you ...'
Harry put his hand down and turned his head to look quizzically at Ron. 'Look in it properly,' he said, and moved aside. 'Go on, stand where I am.'
He pulled Ron into the spot where he'd been standing. Ron stared uncertainly at the mirror The image had changed, but the mirror was still not populated with Harry's ancestors, as he'd claimed: where he'd seen Harry reflected a second ago, there was now a lanky red-haired boy in his late teens, who looked a little like Percy, but without the glasses. A badge was pinned prominently to his collar, with the words 'Head Boy' clearly etched upon it. In his arms, he hefted two enormous trophies. One bore a plaque on which the words 'House Cup' were engraved; the other, 'Quidditch Cup'.
The boy in the mirror grinned and winked at Ron. His eyes were Ron's own, the same clear blue that looked out at him whenever he looked in a glass. Ron felt his breath catch in his throat as he realised it must be his own reflection, just older ... and successful. Like Bill, like Charlie ...
'Look at me,' he breathed, scarcely believing the image.
'Can you see all your family standing around you?' said Harry eagerly.
'No,' said Ron. This was way better than a mirror that showed one's relatives. 'I'm alone,' he explained to Harry, 'but I'm different--I look older--and I'm head boy!'
'What?'
'I am.' Ron scrutinised the badge closely. It was indeed just as he remembered it from when Bill had had it. 'I'm wearing the badge like Bill used to--and I'm holding the house cup and the Quidditch cup.' A smaller panel on the latter bore a list of names, and at the top was 'Gryffindor captain: Ronald Weasley'. His eyes lingered for a while on this delightful detail. 'I'm Quidditch captain, too,' he announced proudly, turning to Harry. He could feel his heart beating faster with excitement. 'Do you think this mirror shows the future?'
Harry's eyebrows were knit together. 'How can it? All my family are dead--let me have another look.'
Ron didn't want to lose the glorious sight the mirror was showing him. He felt like maybe if he stared at it for long enough, it would have to come true. After all, the mirror couldn't create a picture like that without some basis in reality, could it? He reminded Harry that he'd had all last night to have a turn. He needed to work out what the secret was to the beautiful future the mirror was showing him, one where he was the best of his family, winning not just one but all the school prizes ... he'd be the first to do all of it ...
'You're only holding the Quidditch cup,' Harry objected, rather nastily, Ron thought. 'What's interesting about that? I want to see my parents.' He tried to get back in front of Ron.
'Don't push me!' Ron shoved him back.
Something creaked loudly outside in the corridor, making both boys jump. Distracted, they turned away from the mirror towards the half-open door. Had someone heard them? Was it a teacher? Another creak came and Ron came to his senses first. He snatched up the Invisibility Cloak and flung it over their heads just as two bright eyes peered around the bottom of the door. Ron barely breathed as Mrs Norris padded softly into the room and fixed her glowing eyes on the spot where Ron and Harry stood like statues under the cloak. She couldn't see them, surely--that was the whole point of Invisibility Cloaks, though it would be just their luck if the magic only worked for wizards and cats could see through them ...
When Mrs Norris finally left the room, Ron and Harry both let their breaths out in a long sigh. Harry turned back to the mirror, clearly eager to return to its delights, but it was as though a spell had been lifted for Ron--he remembered that they were out of bounds, breaking curfew, and perhaps the cloak would hide them from Filch if Mrs Norris had gone to fetch him, but who knew what that nutter could understand from his cat?
He caught Harry's arm. 'This isn't safe,' he urged. 'She might have gone for Filch, I bet she heard us.'
Harry still didn't seem convinced. Ron rolled his eyes and tugged harder at his arm. 'Come on.'
Finally, Harry moved sluggishly, allowing Ron to drag him away from the mirror. He was uneasily silent as Ron led the way through the corridors back to Gyrffindor Tower. The Fat Lady had returned and she looked none too pleased when they arrived at the portrait hole--'Two nights now, Mr Potter!'--but she let them in nonetheless when Ron gave the password. They tiptoed up the spiral staircase to their dormitory and got into their respective beds. Ron glanced worriedly back at Harry, who seemed, if possible, even more distant now than he'd been all afternoon.
'Good night, Harry,' Ron whispered, but whether Harry hadn't heard because he'd spoken too softly or due to distraction, he didn't know; Harry disappeared behind his bed hangings without a word. Ron settled into his own bed, his thoughts drifting back to that beguiling mirror. He couldn't fathom why Harry seemed to see something different in it, nor why it made him come over all funny. His sleepy mind didn't dwell long on that, though, beyond the vague notion that there was perhaps something sinister about the entire business.
It was instead the tantalising image of his older self that floated to the forefront of his mind. Him, Ronald Weasley, no longer in the shadow of five brighter brothers, but standing alone, the best of them all. The idea settled over him like a warm cloak.
It could happen. It could be the future.
I could make it happen, was his final drowsy thought as sleep claimed him.
Author: shiiki
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, Gen
Fandom: Harry Potter
Word Count: 3,006
Summary: Chapter 12 of PS/SS ('The Mirror of Erised'), from Ron's point of view.
Notes: Inspired by a re-read of chapter 12 of PS/SS.
Harry was still asleep.
This struck Ron as odd. Harry was a consistent early riser even in the holidays--Ron imagined it was force of habit, what with Wood's term-time morning practice regime--and he wondered if his friend might be ill. If that was the case though, letting him have a lie-in probably wasn't the worst idea. Ron waited twenty minutes, flipping through an old Martin Miggs, but then the growling of his stomach demanding breakfast grew too insistent to ignore.
When he climbed back through the portrait hole half an hour later, bearing an untidily-wrapped stack of bacon, kippers and toast, Harry was stumbling down the spiral staircase, rubbing at his eyes.
'Morning!' said Ron. 'You feeling all right, mate?'
Harry blinked slowly, then smiled. 'I've got to tell you something.' He looked furtively around the common room. A few older girls were gathered by the fireplace, their heads bent together over something. Their quiet chatter was punctuated now and then by stifled giggles. None of them were paying the least attention to Ron and Harry.
'C'mon, then,' said Ron, steering Harry over to the window-seat furthest from the fire. 'You can tell me while you eat.'
Harry picked up a slice of toast, but didn't start in on it. He turned it over in his hands twice before saying, 'I used my dad's cloak last night.'
Ron felt his eyes go wide. 'The Invisibility Cloak?'
'Yeah, I thought maybe I could see if Flamel was in the Restricted Section, but I almost got caught--did you know the books in there scream?--and I barely got away from Filch, but then I found this mirror--'
Ron felt something turn over in the pit of his stomach. So Harry had been out half the night adventuring, and he hadn't thought to ask Ron along. Granted, it was Harry's cloak, and it was maybe too valuable a thing to share ...
'--my whole family, it was amazing!' Harry finished his tale and grinned at Ron, his eyes shining brightly.
Ron tried to squash down his resentment, but he couldn't help griping, 'You could've woken me up.'
'You can come tonight,' said Harry. 'I'm going back, I want to show you the mirror.'
Harry's words were matter-of-fact, like he took it for granted Ron would be coming along. He wanted to share this with Ron after all: the cloak, his family ... The hint of bitterness gnawing at Ron vanished, leaving a spark of excitement at a good adventure to come.
'I'd like to se your mum and dad,' said Ron. He'd been feeling curious about Harry's dad in particular since Christmas--what must he have been like, this bloke who'd owned an actual Invisibility Cloak?
'And I want to see all your family, all the Weasleys, you'll be able to show me your other brothers and everyone!'
Ron wondered briefly if Harry was cracked. There was nothing particularly interesting about Ron's family. They were all alive and doing ordinary things. How fascinating could they be? 'You can see them any old time. Just come round my house this summer.' A thought occurred to him--what if the mirror only showed dead people? Magical objects could be odd that way. Ron mentioned this, and Harry shrugged. He started to get a faraway sort of look in his eyes.
'Shame about not finding Flamel, though,' said Ron a moment later. Harry made a noncommittal noise. He'd put down his toast. Ron frowned. Harry hadn't even touched the rest of the food. 'Have some bacon or something, why aren't you eating anything?'
'M'not really hungry,' muttered Harry.
'You all right? You look odd.'
'I'm fine.'
The day was bright and sunny, so they got their cloaks out and took Harry's Nimbus down to the Quidditch pitch. Harry magnanimously let Ron fly it first, and he took ecstatically to the skies, not about the pass up an offer of a whole house with a league-standard broom. Harry passed on flying himself. He was distant and dreamy all day, picking at his food through lunch and dinner.
Once the castle had settled in for the night, though, Harry seemed to come alive. His eyes gleamed as he fastened the cloak around both of them. It was awkward getting out of the portrait hole, and it turned out they could have donned it after leaving: the Fat Lady had gone off somewhere.
'Where's this room, then?' asked Ron.
'Er ... I can't remember how I got back from it.'
'You didn't think about that before we left the common room?'
'Shh, it's okay, we'll go to the library first. I think I can figure it out from there.'
He couldn't, though. They tiptoed through the corridors for what seemed like ages. The castle felt like it was getting progressively colder by the minute. Ron rubbed his freezing hands together under the cloak, wondering if Harry had just imagined the whole thing after all.
'I'm freezing, let's forget it and go back,' he said at last, after the twentieth or so room they checked failed to turn up any mirror, magical or otherwise.
'No!' said Harry fiercely. 'I know it's here somewhere!'
Something moved ahead of them and Ron clamped his hand quickly over Harry's mouth. Both boys stood stock-still, holding their breaths, but it turned out to be just one of the castle ghosts. She drifted serenely through a wall and was gone. Harry started moving determinedly, leaving Ron no choice but to stick close unless he wanted to take his chances wandering fully visible back up to Gryffindor Tower. By now, he was fully regretting the adventure--he was tired and his feet were numb with cold.
Ron was about to suggest again that they give it up when Harry jerked forward suddenly, so quickly that he almost yanked the cloak off Ron.
'It's here--just here--yes!' Harry pushed through a door and darted forward out from under the cloak, making a beeline for a large, ornately-framed mirror that stood ostentatiously in the centre of the room. A wide smile spread across his face as he gazed happily into the glass.
Ron peered over Harry's shoulder but he could only see Harry's reflection in the mirror. Ron let the cloak fall, but spookily, the mirror still did not reflect him--just Harry, beaming madly back at them.
'See?' said Harry in a soft, delighted voice.
'I can't see anything.'
'Look! Look at them all ... there are loads of them ...' Harry reached one hand out to the glass. His fingertip touched his reflected one.
Ron shivered slightly, wondering yet again if his friend had indeed gone mad. 'I can only see you ...'
Harry put his hand down and turned his head to look quizzically at Ron. 'Look in it properly,' he said, and moved aside. 'Go on, stand where I am.'
He pulled Ron into the spot where he'd been standing. Ron stared uncertainly at the mirror The image had changed, but the mirror was still not populated with Harry's ancestors, as he'd claimed: where he'd seen Harry reflected a second ago, there was now a lanky red-haired boy in his late teens, who looked a little like Percy, but without the glasses. A badge was pinned prominently to his collar, with the words 'Head Boy' clearly etched upon it. In his arms, he hefted two enormous trophies. One bore a plaque on which the words 'House Cup' were engraved; the other, 'Quidditch Cup'.
The boy in the mirror grinned and winked at Ron. His eyes were Ron's own, the same clear blue that looked out at him whenever he looked in a glass. Ron felt his breath catch in his throat as he realised it must be his own reflection, just older ... and successful. Like Bill, like Charlie ...
'Look at me,' he breathed, scarcely believing the image.
'Can you see all your family standing around you?' said Harry eagerly.
'No,' said Ron. This was way better than a mirror that showed one's relatives. 'I'm alone,' he explained to Harry, 'but I'm different--I look older--and I'm head boy!'
'What?'
'I am.' Ron scrutinised the badge closely. It was indeed just as he remembered it from when Bill had had it. 'I'm wearing the badge like Bill used to--and I'm holding the house cup and the Quidditch cup.' A smaller panel on the latter bore a list of names, and at the top was 'Gryffindor captain: Ronald Weasley'. His eyes lingered for a while on this delightful detail. 'I'm Quidditch captain, too,' he announced proudly, turning to Harry. He could feel his heart beating faster with excitement. 'Do you think this mirror shows the future?'
Harry's eyebrows were knit together. 'How can it? All my family are dead--let me have another look.'
Ron didn't want to lose the glorious sight the mirror was showing him. He felt like maybe if he stared at it for long enough, it would have to come true. After all, the mirror couldn't create a picture like that without some basis in reality, could it? He reminded Harry that he'd had all last night to have a turn. He needed to work out what the secret was to the beautiful future the mirror was showing him, one where he was the best of his family, winning not just one but all the school prizes ... he'd be the first to do all of it ...
'You're only holding the Quidditch cup,' Harry objected, rather nastily, Ron thought. 'What's interesting about that? I want to see my parents.' He tried to get back in front of Ron.
'Don't push me!' Ron shoved him back.
Something creaked loudly outside in the corridor, making both boys jump. Distracted, they turned away from the mirror towards the half-open door. Had someone heard them? Was it a teacher? Another creak came and Ron came to his senses first. He snatched up the Invisibility Cloak and flung it over their heads just as two bright eyes peered around the bottom of the door. Ron barely breathed as Mrs Norris padded softly into the room and fixed her glowing eyes on the spot where Ron and Harry stood like statues under the cloak. She couldn't see them, surely--that was the whole point of Invisibility Cloaks, though it would be just their luck if the magic only worked for wizards and cats could see through them ...
When Mrs Norris finally left the room, Ron and Harry both let their breaths out in a long sigh. Harry turned back to the mirror, clearly eager to return to its delights, but it was as though a spell had been lifted for Ron--he remembered that they were out of bounds, breaking curfew, and perhaps the cloak would hide them from Filch if Mrs Norris had gone to fetch him, but who knew what that nutter could understand from his cat?
He caught Harry's arm. 'This isn't safe,' he urged. 'She might have gone for Filch, I bet she heard us.'
Harry still didn't seem convinced. Ron rolled his eyes and tugged harder at his arm. 'Come on.'
Finally, Harry moved sluggishly, allowing Ron to drag him away from the mirror. He was uneasily silent as Ron led the way through the corridors back to Gyrffindor Tower. The Fat Lady had returned and she looked none too pleased when they arrived at the portrait hole--'Two nights now, Mr Potter!'--but she let them in nonetheless when Ron gave the password. They tiptoed up the spiral staircase to their dormitory and got into their respective beds. Ron glanced worriedly back at Harry, who seemed, if possible, even more distant now than he'd been all afternoon.
'Good night, Harry,' Ron whispered, but whether Harry hadn't heard because he'd spoken too softly or due to distraction, he didn't know; Harry disappeared behind his bed hangings without a word. Ron settled into his own bed, his thoughts drifting back to that beguiling mirror. He couldn't fathom why Harry seemed to see something different in it, nor why it made him come over all funny. His sleepy mind didn't dwell long on that, though, beyond the vague notion that there was perhaps something sinister about the entire business.
It was instead the tantalising image of his older self that floated to the forefront of his mind. Him, Ronald Weasley, no longer in the shadow of five brighter brothers, but standing alone, the best of them all. The idea settled over him like a warm cloak.
It could happen. It could be the future.
I could make it happen, was his final drowsy thought as sleep claimed him.