We were sitting on the rug by the fireplace, interrupting each other as we discussed our operation, occasionally sipping from mugs of butterbeer—a fizzy drink with a mild, fleeting effect that mimicked tipsiness. Kind of like soda, but not as sweet and with a buttery toffee flavor. They say it’s served hot with spices in winter.

  “That was incredible, Ron,” Harry said, still breathless with excitement. “And Hermione, you were brilliant. Collecting that dust from the neighboring shelf and sprinkling it on our decoy was genius. It looked completely authentic.”

  “Oh, stop it, Harry,” Hermione protested, her face turning pink even as she basked in the praise. “You were the one who remembered to stick that scrap of parchment with the date and initials onto the fake.”

  “And me? I didn’t do anything at all, apparently,” I said, pretending to sulk and taking a long sip from my mug.

  Of course, they started reassuring me otherwise until the adrenaline wore off, and we all began to calm down.

  “You know,” Hermione admitted, “I really liked how well we worked together.”

  “Me too,” Harry agreed, grinning. “It was such a brilliant adventure—and so dangerous!”

  “Yes, but let’s hope we don’t have to break the law again,” Hermione said, trying to sound serious before breaking into a contented smile.

  Later, I walked Hermione to the bus stop. Harry wanted to come along, but we both insisted he stay behind; there was no point risking it. It wasn’t far—just to the end of the street. I made sure she got on the bus safely and then headed back to our room. It was still early, but I was too drained to bother with spellwork, so Harry and I wandered through the shops instead. We picked up the last of our school supplies, gawked at the “Firebolt” in the window, and, under the weary gaze of the shopkeeper, I bought Hagrid’s biting textbook, a couple of old Care of Magical Creatures books from previous years, and a fresh set of textbooks for my other subjects. We restocked potion ingredients at the apothecary too.

  Dad had given me twenty Galleons before he left, the most I’d ever gotten from him in one go. Luckily, we’d already bought most of the big-ticket items in Romania.

  “Wait, Ron,” Harry said, suddenly looking puzzled as we sat at a table in Fortescue’s with our bags piled on the spare chairs. “Didn’t you take Divination?”

  “Why would I?” I replied with a shrug. “If you don’t have a knack for it, it’s a complete waste of time. You’re not going to see anything in that crystal ball except fog, same as with tea leaves. Why bother suffering through it, especially with exams at the end? Besides,” I added, “I’ve already picked my career. Runes, Care of Magical Creatures, and Muggle Studies will be useful for that. Divination’s just fluff. Don’t worry, though—Hermione’s taking Divination. You could’ve picked Runes and Muggle Studies too, you know,” I said, teasing him. “Then we’d have been in the same classes.”

  “No chance,” Harry said, wrinkling his nose. “Muggle Studies is boring, and Runes are too complicated—even if they’re useful. That’s Hermione stuff, really.”

  “You’ve not seen Arithmancy yet—that’s the real headache,” I quipped, marking two types of ice cream and a cherry shake on the floating menu. It flapped its cover like wings and zoomed off toward the kitchen. Harry sighed and made his choices too.

  The next morning, Hermione stormed into our room to wake us up. Ignoring our groggy protests, she launched into a lecture about our lack of discipline and tried to yank the blankets off us. Harry clung to his like a lifeline but fled to the bathroom once she turned her attention to me. Left with no other defense, I let go, stretched luxuriously in my boxers, and smirked.

  Hermione flushed bright red, dropped the blanket, and stormed out, slamming the door and calling me an idiot on her way.

  By the time we went downstairs, she was still sulking. But after we took her shopping, had breakfast at a cafe, and returned to our room, she seemed to have forgotten—or at least pretended to. I did promise to set an alarm for the next morning, though.

  Later, once we’d layered the room with every silencing charm we knew like seasoned conspirators, I frowned and admitted, “I had another vision last night. Dementors will be on the train.”

  “That’s awful,” Hermione murmured, her face pale. I could see she wouldn’t let it go until we’d mastered the Patronus Charm.

  We spent the rest of the summer practicing. It was grueling. The spell demanded a perfect balance of focus, intention, and raw magical strength.

  “I don’t know what memory to use,” Harry lamented one evening, looking utterly drained. “None of them feel right.”

  “Same here,” Hermione said, her eyes wet with frustration. We could produce solid shields of silver light, but neither of us could conjure a proper Patronus.

  That’s when it hit me. “I think we’ve misunderstood the point,” I said, sitting up straighter. “It’s not just about memories. It’s about the feelings behind them—the light they bring. You have to feel it in your heart, not just think about it. Try imagining the freedom and joy of flying on your broom,” I suggested to Harry. “And Hermione, think about the magic itself—not the spell, but the connection to your magic. You can feel that, right?”

  Harry succeeded almost instantly. Hermione managed on her third try.

  Harry’s Patronus was a magnificent stag, just as I’d expected—graceful and proud, with sprawling antlers. Hermione surprised us, though. Her Patronus wasn’t a mammal but a bird—a wise, majestic owl. As for me, my Patronus remained a shimmering, protective shield—stronger than ever, though it still didn’t take shape.

  “Ron, why didn’t yours form?” Hermione asked hesitantly, as if embarrassed by her success.

  “I asked Charlie about it,” I admitted. “Sometimes, when someone’s focused on protecting others rather than themselves, their Patronus stays like this. It’s supposed to turn into a sphere of light that spreads out to protect everyone around you. I just don’t have enough magical strength yet to pull it off. Someday, though, I’ll get there—and it’ll be something real, like yours.”

  Harry and Hermione kept themselves entertained by sending messages through their Patronuses to each other—and me. Hermione’s serious-looking owl delivering messages in her voice was absolutely priceless. Later, when I gave them a detailed account of what I’d seen in my vision, we came up with a proper plan to protect the first-years on the train.

  We also decided to share spells we’d learned. I taught them some cleaning charms and a few basic healing ones I’d picked up from Mum’s books before Hogwarts. I’d only ever used them on Snape and tidying up my room, but still, useful stuff. Honestly, Tom’s room had never sparkled so much.

  About a week before my family was due back, I popped over to the Burrow to grab my broomstick.

  “Oh, and these books,” I said casually when I returned, handing a stack to Harry and Hermione. “They’re brilliant for clearing your mind and might even help with Dementors. Harry, they’ll also help you get a handle on your emotions when they’re running wild.” I then explained a bit about mental magic and Legilimency. Hermione copied the pamphlets using a duplication charm and taught us the spell while she was at it.

  She dove into the material with her usual enthusiasm. Harry, on the other hand, struggled through a couple of exercises, fell asleep during one, and declared it all too much work. He was a good bloke, but let’s be honest—he only liked things that came to him easily. Hermione, though? She’d keep at it until she cracked it.

  Three days before summer break ended, Hermione dragged us to the pet shop.

  “I’ve saved ten Galleons,” she announced, “and I’m going to buy myself an owl for my birthday.” It made sense—being as independent as she was, she hated borrowing Hedwig from Harry whenever she needed to send something.

  At some point, I casually mentioned I knew about her Time-Turner. She admitted that, after our Ministry tour, she’d written to McGonagall saying she’d decided against using it. She’d also decided to drop Divination. Honestly, Hermione was ridiculously ambitious, always aiming to outdo herself. But after trying (and failing) to interpret tea leaves in our cups, she’d declared Divination nothing but a sham for bored old spinsters. Said it’d never be useful in real life.

  Dropping the subject left her with a more flexible schedule, though McGonagall hadn’t been thrilled about her “flighty” student, and Hermione was still a bit stressed over it.

  In the pet shop, Hermione spent ages inspecting potential owls and even settled on a small grey tawny owl—until, completely out of the blue, she walked out with a cat.

  “I couldn’t leave him there,” she explained sheepishly, though her grin said otherwise. “The shopkeeper said Crookshanks has been here his whole life. No one ever wanted him, but he’s so clever, aren’t you, Crooksy?” she cooed, scratching his ginger fur as we carried his carrier and some food. “You don’t mind me leaving him with you for now, do you?” she added as she settled him into a chair. “I need to introduce him to my other cat—or he’ll eat him.”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  The cat was hideous, no point denying it. Looked like a Persian, only the size of a small dog. Definitely not all Kneazle, though he had the build. Still, I liked him—especially since, when Hermione wasn’t around, he always came to me. He’d jump on my lap, purr like a ruddy tractor, and occasionally knead my legs with his claws. Those things were massive. I had to keep a blanket handy, or my trousers would’ve been shredded. Harry thought the whole thing was hilarious—ginger Ron and his ginger cat. Comedy gold, apparently.

  As for me, I didn’t get anything at the pet shop. I didn’t need an owl, and my rat’s cage was already enchanted by Charlie in Romania. No way Wormtail could escape, and no way Crookshanks—or Black—could snatch him. As for the owl Hermione had wanted, Harry and I chipped in five Galleons each to buy it for her birthday. We even arranged for it to be delivered to her right on the day. A nice surprise.

  The day before the holidays ended, Hermione arrived at the inn, and so did my family. Mum and Dad looked fantastic—tan and glowing. The twins were mercilessly teasing Percy, who kept pretending to be too mature for their antics.

  Ginny, meanwhile, was practically glued to my side. Her excitement and obvious affection were, well, really nice. Her and Percy gave both me and Harry Sneakoscopes as a gift. She also gifted me a silver bracelet to hang my dragon fang and claw pendants I got as souvenirs from Romania. In return, I gave her some fancy hairpins and another diary. She’s a sweetheart, really. In a few years, I’ll probably have to start fending off suitors with my broomstick.

  Mum was her usual self, fussing over how much taller I’d grown and piling food onto Harry’s plate while ordering patty cakes and treacle tart from the kitchen. She’d even brush my shoulder as she passed, quietly tearing up when she thought I wasn’t looking.

  Dad gave me a bit of a scolding for moving into the Leaky Cauldron without telling them, but he didn’t push too hard. He knew the Minister had planned to bring us there anyway. Still, he seemed tense, though he tried to hide it.

  Later, Harry overheard Mum and Dad talking.

  “They think Black’s gone mad and wants me dead,” he told me quietly. “Do you reckon it’s true?”

  “I don’t know yet,” I replied. “But they’re not wrong. You’ll be safe at school—Dumbledore’s there. Though I doubt they’ll let you visit Hogsmeade. Honestly, I’m more worried about the Dementors. They really mess with your head. Even without Black, this year’s going to be rough.”

  I couldn’t tell him the truth about Black yet. If he knew about Wormtail, he’d go looking for Black and ruin everything. Harry’s too soft-hearted and impulsive. He’d never let me deal with Wormtail properly, and that rat needed to be gone before he could run back to his master. Better to keep quiet—for now.

  The next morning was the usual chaos. We quietly ordered sandwiches from Tom for the journey, filled a thermos with tea, grabbed some butterbeer and juice, and headed for the station.

  We got to the station via Floo powder. I’d read in the books that they took cars to the platform, but apparently not this time. Instead, someone enlarged the fireplace with a spell, and we all went through at once.

  We couldn’t find an empty compartment, just like in the books, so we ended up settling with Lupin. He was out cold, like he’d taken a sleeping draught. I didn’t like him from the get-go. No clue why—just a gut feeling. Maybe it was how overly shabby he looked. Compared to him, I could’ve passed for Malfoy in a fashion show. And that suitcase of his, tied up with knotted string…

  Sure, wizards aren’t all-powerful, but it’s not hard to fix up magical clothes unless they’re falling apart completely. And even then, you could conjure a rope instead of tying it up with actual string. It reminded me of the time Mum handed me a scruffy old robe, though even then she’d at least tried to patch it up first. Yeah, we wear hand-me-downs, but they’re never falling to bits. Except for trousers, I outgrow them so fast they’re always a bit short, even when I buy them new from Muggles. Anyway, Lupin seemed dodgy.

  Hermione’s cat didn’t trust him either. Maybe it was because he’s a werewolf, or maybe the cat just didn’t like him. Crookshanks plopped himself onto my lap and stared at Lupin with those unblinking yellow eyes. Hermione didn’t mind—Crookshanks was far too heavy for her lap, anyway. She sat beside me, chatting while scratching his ears. All I could think about was how, if Lupin woke up and Crookshanks pounced, my new trousers would end up in tatters, and I’d spend the evening in the hospital wing getting claw marks patched up.

  Crookshanks kept an eye on Scabbers too, who, to be fair, looked even more mangy and thin than usual. I figured the cat must’ve sensed he was an Animagus. But with the magical wards on the cage, there was no way he could get to him. I wasn’t giving Scabbers any more of that rat tonic, either—just a calming draught. No point in torturing the poor thing; at least this way, he’d stay quiet.

  We didn’t talk about anything important, not with Lupin there. Mostly just debated where we’d go on Hogsmeade weekends.

  The snack trolley came by at one point, and Hermione wanted to wake Lupin, but he stayed committed to his role as Sleeping Beauty.

  A couple of hours later, we got some unwelcome visitors.

  “Well, look who it is,” Malfoy drawled lazily, stepping into the compartment. “The rejects of magical society. A half-blood, a blood-traitor, and a Muggle-born upstart.” Crabbe and Goyle chuckled like clockwork behind him. “I heard your dad finally stumbled across some gold for once,” Malfoy continued, smirking at me. “What, did your mum die of joy?”

  Strangely, he didn’t make me angry the way he usually did. Maybe it was the way Dad had talked about him—it left me feeling more annoyed than anything. Not enough to knock his teeth in, but enough to give him a proper verbal slap. And the git must’ve picked up on it because he hesitated.

  “Well, heir of Malfoy,” I said smoothly, matching his tone and grinning in a way that wasn’t quite friendly. “What joy is there in a handful of Galleons for a poor, overburdened family? Us Weasleys, we couldn’t possibly die in peace without raising a ceremonial toast to the demise of the Malfoy line, could we?”

  Malfoy stepped back, going pale for a second, but then his expression twisted back into a sneer.

  “Let’s get out of this hovel,” he muttered, turning on his heel and strolling off. His cronies followed, casting confused glances over their shoulders as the door slammed shut behind them.

  “What was that, Ron?” Hermione asked, her voice full of concern as she met my gaze.

  “Nothing,” I replied with a smile. “Just the usual spat with the Prince of Slytherin. Don’t worry about it, Hermione. What time is it? Should I head to Percy yet?”

  “Not yet,” she said, though she still looked uneasy. “Maybe we should have some tea first.”

  She busied herself setting the table. I wasn’t really thirsty, but I drank to ease her nerves. Oddly enough, it helped. Maybe the Dementors really were nearby.

  “You both understand, right?” I asked before leaving. They nodded in unison, and I headed off to find Percy.

  I tracked him down in the prefects’ compartment. The windows outside had darkened, and my unease was only growing.

  “What’s up, Ron?” Percy asked nervously. He must’ve felt it too—or maybe I just looked as off as I felt. “Something happened?”

  “Got something to tell you,” I said tersely, sitting across from him. He watched me with worried eyes, and for a moment, I thought how lonely he must be, even in our family. Apart from Mum, no one seemed to care about his successes. We sat in silence for a bit before I stood to leave.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, grabbing my arm. “What did you want?”

  “Oh, nothing,” I said casually, pretending to hesitate. “Probably just me being stupid…”

  “Tell me,” he insisted, pulling me back into my seat.

  “Well,” I began, “Harry overheard Mum and Dad yesterday. They were talking about how Black escaped Azkaban and how Dementors are going to guard the school. I read somewhere that those things love feeding on happy thoughts, and I couldn’t stop wondering—what if they decide to attack the train? Sure, they probably wouldn’t actually suck the soul out of anyone, but they could still scare the first-years senseless. I’m heading to Ginny and Luna’s compartment now. Harry and Hermione are staying behind—we’ve been practicing the Patronus charm all summer with Charlie. But what about the others? Honestly, I don’t know much about Dementors at all. We started learning the Patronus charm as a way to send messages and only found out later it works against Dementors too.”

  Percy considered my words seriously, much to my surprise.

  “I think we should seal the compartments with charms,” he suggested, practically echoing my own thoughts. I’d been about to suggest it myself but hadn’t figured out how to bring it up. “Dementors can’t get through physical barriers, so the students will be safe. I’ll handle it. Nothing will happen to anyone in the next half hour before we arrive.”

  “And you just trust me, just like that?” I asked, surprised.

  “Of course,” Percy replied with a smile. “You’re a natural strategist, Ron. You beat McGonagall at chess and helped save Harry and Hermione. Besides, better safe than sorry.”

  “Right, then,” I said quickly, opening the door. The feeling of being watched made me shiver. “I’m off to Ginny.”

  “Percy,” I called as he followed me, “can you cast a Patronus?”

  “Of course,” he replied calmly. “They teach it in sixth year, but it’s not on the exams since not everyone can manage a corporeal form. Most of the time, it’s just a shapeless mist, but even that works as protection.”

  “And what’s yours, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “A raccoon,” he said with a small grin. “But don’t tell the twins, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  He started systematically checking each compartment with first to third years, informing them that the doors would be sealed until we arrived. He then cast some unfamiliar spell, leaving the doors covered in what looked like a glowing, translucent film.

  I found the compartment with Luna, Ginny, and their little summer fan club. I’d asked Ginny earlier to sit with Luna so I wouldn’t have to run around gathering everyone up later.

  “Ladies, got any tea for a weary traveler?” I joked as I locked the door behind me and plopped down beside Luna. I couldn’t put into words how much I’d missed her—it had been so long since I’d seen her. She seemed just as pleased, setting aside her magazine and leaning lightly against me. Her magic brushed against mine, quiet and comforting. We didn’t talk much, though—it felt awkward with the others there, so we left proper catching up for later.

  They fed me and filled me in on their summer gossip. The mugs from the shop were selling like hotcakes, though mostly with generic inscriptions like “To Mum with Love”. I listened, nodded along, but the unease in my chest only grew. My hand tightened nervously around my wand, though I tried not to let it show.

  Then, without warning, the lights went out. The train jerked violently a few times before coming to a halt, and frost crept across the windows. The girls grabbed onto me in the darkness, jumping to their feet. No one had time to truly panic, though. The train gave another jolt, there was a loud commotion in the corridor, and a dazzling light shone through the gap under the door. A moment later, the lights flickered back on, and the train resumed its journey as if nothing had happened.

  Five minutes of frantic chatter later—What just happened?!—the door slid open to reveal a very satisfied-looking Percy.

  “I’d recommend getting changed,” he said officiously. “We’ll be arriving in ten minutes. Oh, and take these—you need to eat them now.” He handed each of us a small piece of chocolate, even me. That meant Hermione must’ve already slipped him the little bag we’d prepared. Good girl. Everything had gone exactly to plan.

  “Well, I’ll head back to my compartment,” I said with a relieved smile. I threw Luna a warm glance before stepping out and shutting the door behind me.