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Naturally, one shouldn't point fingers when they're no better themselves. As the rat that had lived in the Weasley household for so many years, every Weasley child had inevitably had close encounters with Scabbers.
Take Percy, for instance—he once kissed that rat.
Fred and George, when they were younger and more reckless, used to let the rat crawl around inside each other's clothes.
As for Ginny, she didn't do anything too outrageous, but she did give the rat a massage or two…
The worst off, though, was Ron. That rat was practically his treasure, always by his side, as if it were an extension of himself.
Ron had never been so attached to anything else—Scabbers was the exception.
"Stop it, just stop," Ron groaned, slumping over the table, his stomach churning with every word.
Merlin's beard, if he could, Ron would travel back twelve years and strangle that rat with his bare hands—
"I suggest we get a cat for the house," Fred and George said in unison, their tone deadly serious.
"Great idea," Ginny chimed in. "I've decided I'm getting a cat as a pet. What about you, Ron?"
"Anything that eats rats," Ron said quickly. "I'm not picky—as long as it eats rats!"
"And you still blame Hermione?" Harry said with a grin, stepping forward to clap Ron on the shoulder. "Didn't you just yesterday get into a row with her because her owl stuffed Scabbers into a wheel and spun him around? So, what should you say to her now?"
Ron puffed out his cheeks and shuffled over to Hermione.
Hermione had been animatedly recounting last night's events to her friends when Ron approached, startling her.
She swore she hadn't exaggerated a bit—just described how that rat was so…
Hahaha!
"Hermione," Ron said, head bowed. "I need to apologize. I'm sorry."
"Huh?" Hermione blinked, caught off guard. She had no idea what Ron was up to.
"It's about yesterday, with Crookshanks," Ron continued, still staring at the floor. "I owe you and Crookshanks an apology. I hope you can forgive me."
"Oh, that…" Hermione patted Ron's shoulder. "Don't worry, Ron, I've already forgotten about it. Honestly—you're a victim too, aren't you?"
"Mm-hmm!" Ron nodded vigorously, his head bobbing like a pecking chicken.
"If you want a new pet, I can help you pick one out," Hermione said, her tone gentle and considerate. "Or if there's something specific you want, just tell me. We can go to the Magical Menagerie together and choose one."
"Thanks, Hermione," Ron said, his eyes misting over.
There was no denying it—a kind-hearted girl could really work wonders on a young boy's heart, at least as far as Ron was concerned.
"Have some food," Hermione said to Ron. "You can't keep skipping meals… Harry, want to join us for a bite?"
"Oh, sure," Harry replied.
He had no reason to refuse and promptly sat down beside them.
"Let me think," Harry said, tapping the table. "How about some snacks? Ice Mice, maybe?"
Ron's face fell instantly.
"Merlin, Harry," he said, his expression darkening. "Don't mention rats, alright? I never want to see another rat in my life…"
"Hahaha!" Harry burst into wicked laughter, slapping Ron's shoulder. "Lighten up, mate, it's not a big deal… Look at me, I'm a victim too, you know. Remember? I held Scabbers too…"
At that, Harry froze.
Right. I held Scabbers too… even cradled him in my hands…
Harry's face turned waxy yellow, and he let out a retching sound.
"Merlin…" Harry let out a wail that seemed to come from the depths of his soul. "I'm not feeling so great either, mate…"
"Haha…" Ron gave a dry laugh, patting Harry's back to help him breathe. "Well, looks like I'm not the only one who's suffered."
It was a weekend, and after lunch, they were supposed to stay in the Great Hall to study—or they could head outside for a walk by the Black Lake.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione decided to head to the Quidditch pitch to clear their minds.
Harry had initially wanted to find Veratia, but she was nowhere to be seen—she wasn't at the Slytherin table and seemed to have vanished.
Assuming Veratia had returned to the Muggle world for school, Harry didn't dwell on it and invited Ron to the Quidditch pitch instead.
After all, Ron's psychological scars were considerable, and he needed some fun to shake off the gloom.
"Want to try some training?" Harry said with a grin. "Hop on a broom—I know you've always wanted to play Quidditch. Wood's retiring next year, so maybe you could try out for his spot. What do you think?"
"Me?" Ron's face lit up with a wide grin.
Say what you will, but as a Quidditch fanatic, Ron would never turn down a chance for a thrilling match.
What could make him forget his troubles?
Aside from chicken drumsticks, it was Quidditch!
Hermione clicked her tongue, considering Ron's current mental state, and swallowed the words she'd been about to say.
The priority now, she thought, was helping Ron forget his worries.
"Why not give it a go?" Harry said cheerfully. "Look, Wood and the team are just coming out. Maybe you can try? Have Wood coach you."
"But I don't know him that well…" Ron hesitated.
"No problem," Harry said, pulling Ron toward Wood. "Oliver—I mean, can you take Ron for some training? I think he's got some Quidditch talent."
Wood sized Ron up and nodded. "Ron Weasley, right? Hmm… another Weasley… I think you could give it a shot. Your brother Charlie and those twin clones are Gryffindor Quidditch players, so maybe you've got some talent too."
"Oh, Oliver," Fred and George called out in unison. "What about Percy?"
"He doesn't count," Wood said without missing a beat.
"Come on up and show me your flying skills," Wood said to Ron.
Harry handed Ron a broom. "Give it a try, Ron."
Ron was a bit nervous. It was his first time on a Nimbus 2000—before this, he'd only used the school's Comet 260s, which were sluggish and nowhere near as fast as the Nimbus.
"I'll give it a go," Ron said, swallowing hard.
"Don't stress, mate," Harry said, patting Ron's arm. "You've got this."
Ron nodded, gave the broom a light kick, and it shot upward like a rocket.
"WAAAH!" he yelped, clinging to the broom for dear life.
But, to his credit, Ron's flying wasn't half bad. Even in this situation, he managed to stay on the broom without being thrown off.
"What position do you think he'd fit?" Wood asked Harry, shading his eyes as he watched.
Though he was Gryffindor's captain, Harry's opinion as the Seeker who consistently led them to victory carried weight.
"Keeper?" Harry suggested. "You're graduating next year, Oliver. Gryffindor will need a new Keeper, right?"
"That's a good point, Harry," Wood said, considering it seriously. "Let's see if he's got what it takes to be a Keeper. What do you think?"
"Sounds good," Harry agreed.
It didn't take long for Ron to get the hang of the Nimbus 2000. Soon, he was flipping and rolling in the air with ease.
"Look, Harry! Hermione!" Ron shouted gleefully. "Look at me!"
"Fred, George!" Wood called, waving them over. "You two, come here."
Fred and George sauntered over, grinning. "What's up, our esteemed captain?"
"I need you to test our potential Keeper," Wood said, pointing at Ron, who was swooping around. "That's him."
"Who?"
Fred and George shaded their eyes and spotted Ron.
"You mean our little Ronnikins?"
The twins exchanged evil grins.
"Yep, that's Ron," Wood said, oblivious to the brewing storm. "You're Beaters, but I think you can play Chaser for this. Your job is to try and score on him with the Quaffle."
No sooner had he spoken than the twins shot into the air.
"They must really want their little brother on the team," Wood said to Harry with a smile. "They didn't even hesitate to take on a Chaser's role, which they're not great at. Those two usually hate extra training."
"No," Harry said confidently. "They just want the thrill of tormenting Ron."
Sure enough, Ron let out a yelp.
"ARGH!"
George swung his arm, lobbing the Quaffle straight at Ron's stomach.
"Sorry, too high!" George called, whistling cheekily.
Ron, fuming, hurled the Quaffle back down. Fred didn't hesitate, aiming a shot right at Ron's backside.
This time, Ron was ready. He swung his leg up, blocking the Quaffle.
"That's it?" he shouted. "Did you two even eat breakfast, you clones?"
Fred and George, hearing Ron's taunt, hovered in midair.
They exchanged a glance and said in unison, "Looks like our little Ronnikins isn't impressed…"
"…Let's teach him some respect for his big brothers," they added together.
The twins split up, flanking Ron from both sides.
"Aren't they Beaters?" Angelina said skeptically to Wood. "Why are they so good at playing Chaser?"
"Or maybe they're just motivated by the idea of teaching their little brother a lesson," Harry remarked dryly.
Harry was right. The twins started showing off, relentlessly pelting Ron's goal with Quaffles.
But Ron improved quickly. At first, he could only watch as the twins scored, but by the end, he was blocking a few shots here and there.
"Impressive performance," Wood said, clapping generously for Ron.
This wasn't a real match—it was training, and a two-on-one at that. With no Bludgers or opposing Beaters to interfere, the twins had free rein to mess with Ron. Blocking even a few shots was an outstanding feat, one even Wood couldn't guarantee he'd match against two unhindered Chasers.
"That settles it," Wood said, patting Ron's bruised shoulder. "You'll train with us from now on as the reserve Keeper. If I'm unavailable, or… when I graduate next year, you can take over, little Weasley."
"Really? Me, Captain Wood?" Ron asked, astonished. He hadn't expected to pass.
"Of course," Wood said with a grin. "You did great. Blocking shots from two unhindered Chasers? If I were grading you, I'd give you an 'O' without hesitation."
"I wish Hogwarts would start a Quidditch class," Ron said, grinning ear to ear. "Then I could rack up another 'O.'"
But that was impossible. Hogwarts offering a Quidditch course? Never.
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