A Hatter's Sorting

Ron couldn't believe how he ever thought McGonagall looked old back on his first day. The witch had her years of course, but when he had last seen the future headmistress of Hogwarts, Ron remembered a good number of grey hairs on her. The woman who now stood before the first years had her hair completely black and didn't look as wrinkled as she would twelve years later.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

When the professor opened the door wide and gave them their first look at the entrance hall, Ron realized he was by far the less surprised face there. It was not that Hogwarts walls and stairways had stopped being impressive, none at all, however, after so many years Ron was kind of used to them. They never left him, even after his last year there.

Images came to him, memories of the same hall, but broken down and filled with debris. Ron could almost hear the cracking of the tiny rocks under his feet and the cries of anguish all around. It felt as if the very sound had travelled here with him.

This was a different time though. These walls knew no war yet. The children around him admired the stunning building mostly in silence.

Ron had come to realize that everything around him was way too detailed to be part of any illusion. He was really back in time, that was the only possible explanation. Ron shivered at the thought and moved forward.

As Professor McGonagall walked them across the flagged stone floor, Ron wondered about what he was going to do now. Could he return to his own time? He hoped so, but he had to do it before he altered anything. Time should not be changed. Hermione had said that more times than he could remember.

The roar of the entrance to the Great Hall reached them. While everyone else was wondering what was on the other side, Ron could almost see the magnificent ceiling through the solid rock. He was the only one who didn't stay there making wild theories of what was beyond those walls. He followed Professor McGonagall. He knew the small room where they were heading.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said the teacher. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Ron saw the stern look on the witch move to Neville and then to himself. He was startled, for a moment he thought she was going to say something to him, maybe that she knew who he was and where he had come from. However, McGonagall soon moved her eyes away and talked again.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber, and Ron sighed.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" Harry asked.

"It's a little test, so I've heard. Nothing complicated. It's not like they're going to make us fight a ruddy troll or anything," he answered.

Harry's eyebrows went up, as he surely hadn't considered the possibility of fighting a troll. Ron thought of trying to ease his friend's nerves a bit more, but he decided against it. He had told Harry that he didn't know how they were sorted, anything he said now would probably just give the boys weird ideas to muse over.

The nervous whispers flooded through the small room because Harry wasn't the only nervy boy around. Anthony Goldstein was chatting hurriedly with Michael Corner somewhere on the left, while Dean couldn't stop looking in all directions a few feet away from their place.

Ron was quite anxious as well, though his reasons for that were completely different from everyone else's. He knew the sorting was a simple affair, which — contrary to what the twins had said — didn't involve fighting trolls. Nevertheless, Ron had plenty of other things to worry about, namely being in the past in his eleven-year-old body.

Stuck in the past. What a blasting luck. Almost as bad as being stuck at aunt Muriel's, Ron thought. However, the inner joke didn't do much for him.

There was not much Ron knew about time travel, mostly what he had gathered from Hermione's musings about her project. Even so, he knew he wasn't supposed to change anything while he was in the past. It was like the most important of all its bleeding rules. A small thing could mess things big time, he was sure. How could he go about with that? How could he remember all that he had done and said so many years ago? It was impossible!

"It can't be a difficult test, can it? We just arrived here," a mute voice caught Ron's attention. It was Dean, who was now questioning Terry Boot.

Once more, Ron skimmed at the young faces around him. He knew those faces, he had seen older versions of them plenty of times before coming back. He found Seamus rather easily, the boy was looking as if he had just seen a werewolf. When Ron had last seen him, Seamus had been quite chuffed with himself though, throwing a party to celebrate his new gig at the Daily Prophet. Ron looked past Seamus and, on the other side of the room, he saw Hannah Abbott exchanging cautious words with Sally-Anne Perks. Ron hadn't heard much of Hannah lately, but Sally-Anne had worked with Hermione in her previous position at the Ministry. The girl had been pulled out of Hogwarts at some point in fifth year because her mother was afraid of Voldemort's return. Funny how they never saw that as a clear sign that the Perks believed Dumbledore and Harry over the Ministry.

It was a queer feeling for sure, knowing so much about his future classmates when they didn't even know his name. Most of them would know Harry though.

Turning to his side, Ron noticed that Harry was rather quiet, even if somewhat unsettled. He appeared to be lost in his thoughts for a moment, but then he frowned as his eyes found Hermione. The girl was muttering some spells, or at least that was what Ron could guess from the distance. His heart was beating fast and, when the girl turned to him for a quick instant, he was surprised.

Had she turned to look at him last time? Or was this about what he did on the train? Ron was frightened, he could have changed time already. And that would be a bloody disaster.

Many times Hermione had mumbled about things that Ron couldn't follow. After they married it became a little different because she usually asked his opinion even when he didn't have a clue of what she was rambling about. Maybe it helped her to voice her theories out loud, or to have someone listening to her. Ron did catch a few things here and there though and, if there was something he had learned from her work with the unspeakables, was just how dangerous time travel could be.

Ron felt like the worst possible person to be in his spot at the time. He was so going to say or do the wrong thing. He just knew it. What if he said something he wasn't supposed to and, because of it, Neville ended up marrying Pansy Parkinson in the future? How would he apologize for that?

At that moment, the screams brought Ron out of his thoughts.

"What's that—?" someone started.

The Hogwarts' pearly-white ghosts came gliding through the air, immersed in their ghostly conversations. Just as last time.

"Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance," said the Fat Friar.

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost— I say, what are you all doing here?"

The ghosts' attention had turned towards the students.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar smiling, "About to be sorted, I suppose?"

Mute nods came from some of the first years.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old house, you know."

Ron could have told the Friar then the exact students who were going to end up in Hufflepuff. He skimmed the room looking at the other first years around him, thinking about finding Justin Finch-Fletchley or Susan Bones. However, he found more ghosts instead.

Of all the future Hufflepuffs, Roger Malone was the one who was the closest to the Friar. Even when the ghost had brought a high-pitch tone out of the boy, he still seemed more dead than alive to Ron.

Back at Hogwarts, Roger had been a figure as distant to Ron as Sally-Anne. He couldn't remember having crossed two words with either of them through his school years. Still, Sally-Anne had taken no part in the battle and Ron had talked to her once or twice after the war. He never had that chance with Roger Malone. The only real memory Ron could form of the boy was seeing him lying lifeless on the cold stones of the Great Hall. It gave Ron an uncomfortable feeling, guilt most likely. He had spent so much time near Roger and he never talked to him. He didn't even know if the boy liked Quidditch or not. It had been even worse with Alice Tolipan, a girl who had died near Hagrid's hut and who was now alone in a corner. Unlike Roger, Alice had been in Gryffindor, so Ron had seen her plenty of times in the common room. And still, he never talked to her either.

"Move along now," said Professor McGonagall with a sharp voice, she had finally returned, "The Sorting Ceremony is about to start."

When the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall the professor faced the students again, "Now, form a line and follow me."

Still a tad uneasy, Ron took his place behind Harry. There, Seamus almost crashed with him on the line and when Ron turned to face him he saw the most unexpected thing so far. Lavender Brown passed right in front of him, as the most blurry of all ghosts.

Ron paled. His eyes grew and couldn't form an intelligible thought. Just images. Lavender kissing him. Lavender yelling something at him. Lavender falling to the floor. Fenrir Greyback with blood in his mouth. Hermione's spell. And then, finally, Lavender's unfocused eyes, looking at nothing.

"Is there something wrong?" McGonagall asked, noticing that Ron had stopped the line.

"Er, no professor. Sorry," Ron hurried, struggling to keep his voice from shaking.

He turned back again, but Lavender was gone. So Ron tried to clear his mind and follow on. He made his way to the Great Hall, where he would surely find more ghosts.

Once they walked out of the chamber into the Great Hall, Ron's eyes were the first to move up, knowing the image that was about to come. The ceiling was as magnificent as ever, totally open to the heavens, or so it appeared to be. The thousands of candles floating in the air brought pleasant memories back to him. Memories he cherished.

Not far away, Hermione whispered, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

Ron was torn. A part of him wanted to smile at Hermione's comment and continue admiring the Great Hall's ceiling, but another one was deeply unsettled. He had too many things in his head. He didn't know how to return or how to act while he found a way to do it. And, on top of that, he couldn't decide if he should say something to Lavender or was just terribly afraid of seeing her again.

It was strange. But just before the sorting, when one could feel the most like a first year, Ron couldn't stop thinking about how much he didn't belong there. How wrong everything was.

All of that changed in a second because Ron's eyes moved to the tables and his heart skipped a beat. There, on the Gryffindor side, two people grabbed his attention. The twins were cheering like the rest of the people there, as if nothing could ever end their joyful grins. Ron couldn't stop staring.

He was forced to look away a moment later, as the nervous kids behind him kept pushing him forward. However, Ron threw more glances at the twins on his way to the teachers' table, trying to see if he could distinguish Fred from George. It wasn't easy though, the twins were far away and George had still both of his ears. Ron didn't know if his brothers would notice him staring or if they would find it weird, but he just really didn't care. Everything was good for a moment. It was like the bloody war had never happened.

The sound of Professor McGonagall putting the stool on the floor caught his attention and Ron got his first glimpse at the dirty and patched fabric. The Sorting Hat.

It took Ron ten complete seconds but, when he realized it, he froze and his eyes opened wide. The blasting hat was going to know. It was going to discover that he was from a different time. It was going to tell Dumbledore. Ron didn't want anybody to know, not even the headmaster. He had the hopeful idea of returning to his own time before he changed anything. Not even Dumbledore should know about the future after all.

Ron threw a cautious glance at the wizard, thinking about what the old man could do if he found out about him. That was his first look at the teachers' table.

The professors there gave him all kinds of memories, but the most confusing ones came when he caught sight of Snape. Ron didn't know what he was supposed to feel. Snape had been crucial for their success and, in some way, he was a person worthy of admiration. Nevertheless, Ron couldn't keep himself from thinking how much of a prick he was.

Then he shivered. Quirrell was there too. Voldemort.

Now what? Was Ron supposed to go back and let things flow as last time? With Voldemort around the students? What about Snape and Fred or even Cedric? Was he supposed to just let them die?

His next thought was abruptly interrupted by a singing hat.

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole hall burst in applause except for Ron, the thoughts of Quirrell and Voldemort still racing wild in his head.

He wondered if he should stop it all at then, before the hat found out about him. He could try and make things different, better. A lot of possible futures formed in his head and all of them included Fred still living after the war. However, the more he thought about it, the more he feared getting a different future.

He just couldn't. He couldn't change things, that's what Hermione would have said and he knew perfectly well why. So many things could go wrong, worse than before. He didn't want to think of a future where Fred lived but Hermione died. That would tear him apart.

It felt wrong to choose though.

Ron was conflicted looking at his brother. Fred was talking lively at the Gryffindor table, unaware of the fate that was awaiting him. Couldn't he just warn him or something? Couldn't they have the exact same future but with Fred in it?

He felt so selfish at that as he turned to look at Harry. What about him? He lost people too, what about Sirius? Everybody else lost someone and he was only thinking about Fred. The Black Memorial was filled with names, not only his brother's. Roger's, Alice's and Lavender's names were there too. Ron moved his eyes to the Hufflepuff table and there he found Cedric. He was happy, he didn't know.

Harry's voice took him by surprise, "So do we have to..."

It took a while for Ron to understand, but he nodded, trying to keep his voice straight. "Yes, we have to try it on,"

"Oh, that doesn't seem too complicated."

Greatly depends on the opinion talking hats had of lost time travellers, thought Ron.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding the roll of parchment. With a lot of pain, Ron made up his mind. He was going to take his chances with that hat and, at his first shot, he was going to return to his own time. He didn't belong here. He needed to let Fred go. One more time.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

Hufflepuff, Ron thought to himself.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

One by one they walked to the stool. No matter how quickly the hat shouted, Ron always knew where everybody was going to end up before the fact. When Lavender's name was mentioned though, Ron shivered. He tried not to look at her until she was happily seated at the Gryffindor's table.

Millicent Bulstrode went to Slytherin, then Michael Corner took his expected place at the Ravenclaw table. At one point Ron stopped paying much attention to them, deciding instead to continue looking at the Great Hall, and, occasionally, at his brothers by the Gryffindor table.

He knew what was coming though, and, just after Goyle made his way to the Slytherin table, he heard the name he had been waiting for.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Ron was nervous, there were still no changes in the sorting but he was suddenly afraid that their encounter on the train had somehow altered Hermione's house. He couldn't have changed that, right? He didn't know what he would do if Hermione didn't end up in Gryffindor.

The girl rushed to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head. The seconds before the hat yelled felt terribly slow, overwhelming. It was like being back at the Ministry's Atrium where a lot could happen in no time.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat.

Ron sighed in relief. In front of him, Harry made a gesture that he couldn't understand.

After Sue Li was sorted and Neville made his way to the front, Ron turned to look at Harry. His friend was getting edgier somehow. Ron tried to calm him down, yet there was not much he could do without saying that they were both going to be picked by Gryffindor. Or at least that was last time.

Ron was the one in real trouble. The hat was going to know, the bloody hat was going to know...

Neville ended in Gryffindor of course, which was another step in calming Ron down. However, he got an uneasy feeling when two names later Professor McGonagall called for Ernie Macmillan. Ron had almost forgotten about the fight at the Ministry for a moment, but it was hard not to remember it after seeing Ernie there. Had he been killed in Ron's timeline? Had those men got him before taking the Ministry's windows? Was he another person he was going to abandon by not changing the time?

Malfoy was picked for Slytherin and walked to his table shooting a murderous glare at Ron. He couldn't care less, Malfoy was the least of his problems.

Roger Malone soon headed to the Hufflepuff table, and Ron started to accept the idea of him not being a ghost anymore. Then Sally-Anne Perks was sorted into Gryffindor, as Ron expected, and the hat voiced the name that was to silence the hall.

"Potter, Harry!"

Harry stepped forward nervously. Naturally, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

Ron's friend sat on the stool for a while, with the whole hall tense and waiting for an answer. Eventually, the hat spoke and the right table burst in cheers. "GRYFFINDOR!" it said.

Percy shook Harry's hand and the twins began making a party out of him. Ron smiled. He knew he had to go back to his own time but at that moment all he wanted was to be there with them, at least for a while. He wanted to hear the twins talking again as only they could.

Not that he would be telling them that, mind you.

When Ron turned back to the front, Professor McGonagall was already calling Sophie Roper to the front. Ron's turn was coming. With each new name, he got more and more nervous. Dean and Alice both went to Gryffindor, but by then Ron was already feeling the sweat on his hands. Could he really destroy everything if he changed things? He would agree to go back but he didn't know how yet. What if by the time he made it back everything was beyond repair? What if he ended up losing somebody else from his family?

Among cheers and laughs, Emma Vane made her way to the Hufflepuff table. The moment had finally arrived.

"Weasley, Ron!"

Looking pale, Ron walked to the stool, remembering that last time it had only taken one second for the hat to shout. He was almost sure that it would take longer this time. He sat down and the old dirty hat fell gracefully over his eyes.

"Hmm, well, well, what do we have here?" he could hear the hat say. As far as his memory told him Ron hadn't heard it last time, "We have met before."

It was not a question.

"Y—Yes," said Ron without knowing if the hat would listen to him.

"I see, well you're pretty far away from home, aren't you? Hmmmm... The real question is what should I do with you?"

"Don't tell! I want to go back, I do, but I dunno how. I won't change things!" Ron pleaded.

"Don't forget I can see in your head, you're not entirely sure of those words. However, I can't help much with it either, difficult situation indeed..."

"I'm sure! I won't change things! I'll fix it, just don't tell Dumbledore. I'll fix it before he finds out," Ron's heart was racing. What if the hat didn't buy that? What if he turned him over to Dumbledore right at that moment?

The headmaster wouldn't stop to think about it, he would probably wipe away his memory, but Ron didn't like that option. He didn't want to forget, he wanted to have all his memories when he went back to his time. He loved those memories.

"I don't say to the headmaster things he doesn't ask, nor things that he doesn't need to know," The hat remained silent and then he spoke differently, "Well, we can't keep this going on forever, that much is true. Your mind is in the right place, Ronald Weasley. It is all here of course, I can see it. For everyone's sake, I hope you make the best decisions, especially now that you are going to... GRYFFINDOR!"

Ron was shocked, he didn't expect to be released from that conversation so suddenly. A moment later he was walking stunned to the roaring table of Gryffindor. What was going to happen? Would the hat really keep what he learned from the headmaster? He didn't know.

Dumbledore was on their side, that much was true. Even so, Ron still couldn't grab his mind around the knowledge that the headmaster had planned for Harry's death. Which was another reason why Ron was not that keen on talking to him.

Ron would never be able to do such a thing. It had been a cold plan and Ron didn't like the idea of gambling with someone's life like that. Especially Harry's. Also, he didn't have good luck keeping secrets lately. He had messed up George's surprise party, hadn't he?

By the time McGonagall called Blaise Zabini to the stool, Ron had reached the table. Harry was clapping and Percy didn't take long to congratulate him.

"Well done, Ronald, excellent," his brother said more pompously that he could remember.

In the future, Percy was a little different. Unconsciously Ron scratched his cheek, remembering his brothers' feat with the fur-growing trifle.

"Yeah, sure. Totally aced the siting part of it," Ron couldn't stop himself, earning a nasty look from his brother.

Then Ron was faced with the eerie and familiar feeling of the table. On one side Katie Bell was explaining something to Parvati and Seamus, while Angelina and Sally-Anne were already exchanging stories five seats away from Ron. Even a distant look at the other tables told Ron that everything was going on as it was supposed to. Behind his back, Audrey — Percy's future wife — was happily sharing something with a girl whose last name was Howard. Farther away still, Morag MacDougal was being introduced to her brother's friends at the Ravenclaw table.

Yes, everything was normal. Everything except him. Ron was the one out of place.

Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

"Welcome," Albus Dumbledore's voice echoed in the hall. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

"Is he— a bit mad?" Harry asked Percy.

"Mad? He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?"

It had been a very long time since Ron last found himself in front of so much food and yet wasn't so eager to try it out. It seemed like he got off the Sorting Hat problem, but that only meant that he had to deal with a bigger one now. Ron didn't know how to return to his own time. He should probably check in the library to see if he could find something there. He didn't know where to start though, he was not Hermione. Was there a book for dodgy time mirrors or stuff like that?

It was likely that the bloody mirror didn't even exist yet. After all, Hermione had only started working on it a few months ago.

The only thing that Ron was sure of was that he was not going to tell Dumbledore, not now when he didn't fully understand things. The old wizard was very capable of helping, but once in his office, it would all be in the headmaster's terms. And Dumbledore's first impulse would be to obliviate him.

Deep inside Ron knew he should keep his memories. His heart told him it was the right thing to do, though he wasn't sure if Hermione would agree with that.

Back at the table, Harry was eating eagerly at his side. Ron felt sad when looking at him. He could really use the older Harry's help now, he could use Hermione's too. However, Ron knew that he couldn't tell them, not if he wanted to keep the future unchanged. They were probably too young to deal with what he knew anyways.

Ron found himself unable to stop staring at Hermione. She was way too young and still needed to learn a lot of things, still, somehow, that young girl was his future wife. Hermione noticed the attention and threw Ron a weird look, so he forced his eyes away.

If Ron couldn't talk to Harry or Hermione, who did he have then? In a twisted way, Ron was way more alone than he had initially thought.

Nearly Headless Nick came and took Ron out of it. He was the only first year whose eyes didn't pop open when the ghost swung his head aside. Soon they were talking about the Quidditch cup and who they were. Ron tried his best to remember, to keep the conversation as casual and normal as he could. Once in a while though, he was distracted staring at many people around. He hadn't seen some of them in a long time, and he had thought he was never going to see a few others ever again. Fred was joking not far away.

"Ouch!" Harry suddenly clapped a hand to his head.

"What is it?" asked Percy.

"N—nothing."

If only a scar hurting could be nothing.

"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" Harry asked Percy.

"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to - everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

Harry stared for a few seconds and Ron had to stop the urge to tell him that it was not Snape. It was never Snape.

Ron shivered a bit looking at Quirrell, still wondering what he was going to do. The purple of his turban stood up, as the purple of the spells the American man had thrown at him back at the Time Room. Ron hoped that man had been caught after he fell through the mirror, but it was also possible that his whole future was left in standby until he returned. Ron had no idea how that worked.

The man had been skilful and hadn't felt like a henchman at all. He had had an agenda of his own, Ron could tell. He didn't even catch his name, which fortunately didn't seem so important right now.

After the desserts were gone Professor Dumbledore stood up and addressed the whole room, "Ahern— just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of Fred and George.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death." Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did.

"He's not serious?" Ron's friend muttered to Percy.

"Must be," said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere — the forest's full of dangerous beasts; everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."

Ron could almost see Fluffy, the three-headed dog, barking at them with its massive jaws.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. He gave his wand a little flick and a long golden ribbon flew out of it. It rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!" And the school bellowed:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot."

As always everybody finished the song at different times. The twins were the last ones and Dumbledore conducted them until the very end.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

They followed Percy all the way through the familiar path, marble staircases and all. Ron was smiling remembering all the moments he spent there, he even enjoyed Percy's exchange with Peeves much more than the first time. Soon they were all standing in front of the portrait of a familiar fat woman with a silk pink dress.

"Password?" she asked.

"Caput Draconis," Percy answered. The portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room; cosy, warm, and as full of squashy armchairs as ever.

The twins were not far away and Ron wanted to reach them, but they had said their goodbyes from the distance and climbed swiftly to their rooms. He wished he had had at least a few words with Fred, but following them would have looked unusual. Ron reminded himself that he needed to keep things the same. He could surely see them the next day.

His eyes followed a certain bushy-haired girl all the way to the girls' staircase, and then he climbed up to his own tower. Everything was just as he remembered, even the four-posters were placed in the exact same spot for all of them. He was the first to pick his bed, he didn't want anyone to beat him to his old bed.

Ron frowned at Scabbers when it moved around. He wanted to do something about the old rat, but he couldn't. Ron gritted his teeth thinking of Sirius. Another thing to feel bad about not changing.

"How are you doing?" Ron muttered to Harry.

"Brilliant," Harry answered in a low voice, and Ron saw him falling asleep almost instantly.

Ron smiled and let out a heavy sigh. He laid there on his bed, just looking at the top of it. He had to be very careful with what he was going to do, many things depended on him.

As he closed his eyes, he wished that in the morning he could wake up in his real bed, next to Hermione. He wished that everything since the attack on Azkaban had been nothing but a ruddy dream. He knew that it was not what he was going to find, but he didn't lose anything by hoping.