“Ron also started teaching Harry wizard chess. This was exactly like Muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle. Ron’s set was very old and battered. Like everything else he owned, it had once belonged to someone else in his family — in this case, his grandfather. However, old chessmen weren’t a drawback at all. Ron knew them so well he never had trouble getting them to do what he wanted. Harry played with chessmen Seamus Finnigan had lent him, and they didn’t trust him at all. He wasn’t a very good player yet and they kept shouting different bits of advice at him, which was confusing. "Don’t send me there, can’t you see his knight? Send him, we can afford to lose him.”
Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, Chapter 12
I love sooo many things about this:
a) Ron teaching Harry wizard things always makes me smile
b) Ron the strategist (yes, please)
c) Ron being better at something but not being an ass about it
d) The family history in the pieces
e) Old and tattered does not mean bad! And in fact, is sometimes better than new (makes me think of the watch Molly gives Harry in DH)
f) The pieces trust Ron because they know him and his abilities
A/N: So apparently Ron Weasley’s birthday is a magical day indeed! I honestly thought I might never write again, but I am humbly offering you this tiny drabble. It is inspired by my own son who is oh so very close to heading out into the great horizon of scary, exciting question marks!
Molly Weasley was not an idiot. She knew the types of things that people said about her, about her family. She knew they thought she was barmy for having so many children, especially when her husband had no fortune and a career that was as thankless as it was low-paying. But, quite frankly, they could tend their own cauldrons and quit trying to stir hers!
Marrying Arthur had been the best decision she had ever made: he was ten times the husband and father of any other wizard she had ever heard of. She felt more than blessed that they had been given such wonderful children, no matter how challenging it was at times. She never minded doing without some of the things that other witches deemed important: fancy clothes, jewelry, exotic vacations, as long as she could keep her family healthy and happy.
But, even so, there were times, few and far between, that she felt the shabbiness that others saw in her life.
Today was one of those days. Nothing had turned out the way she had envisioned it: the special cake, she had gone to the fancy market to get the ingredients, had fallen apart after she took it out of the pan, the bacon had burned while she tried to salvage the cake, the tea kettle had screamed until she thought her eardrums would burst.
She had wanted more than anything for the day to be special. It was her little Ronnie’s birthday, his last one before…well, next year he would be off to Hogwarts and it just wouldn’t be the same. Sometimes it felt like it was all slipping away from her so quickly, before she knew it she would be alone in this sprawling house. More and more she found herself wanting to hold on to him and Ginny, to keep them from growing too quickly. One by one, or two by two in the twins’ case, her gaggle had left the nest, leaving only holidays and summers.
Yes, she needed this day to be a good one for her youngest son. She’d never been able to give him, or any of her children, a birthday filled with expensive gifts or lavish parties. Instead she showered them with their favorite foods and let them fill the day anyway they wanted, well, she’d had to adjust that slightly after the twins declared that they wanted to run through the muggle village starkers for their eighth birthday.
This year Ron had asked for the usual: bacon and chocolate biscuits for breakfast, it was only one day a year after all, no chores, new Quidditch magazines, and a big birthday cake after dinner. He really was the easiest of her children to make happy. He never made extravagant requests or complained about, well, anything except cleaning his room. She knew he’d never make a fuss about the cake or the bacon or the meager pile of mostly homemade gifts.
No, Molly Weasley never minded doing without for herself, but when she thought about all the wonderful things she could buy her children if she had the galleons, it hurt her more than she would ever tell any other living soul. So she put on a brave face and salvaged what she could of the bacon and bound the cake together with a quick spell that was more like a prayer than magic. Today would only be about Ron: about holding on to her little boy a little while longer.
****
Ron Weasley was not an idiot. He knew the things that people said about his family. He knew that most wizarding families had more money and less children. But when he thought about it, which was usually only when he went with his Mum shopping or when he heard his parents talk in hushed voices about how to afford supplies for the newest Weasleys to attend Hogwarts, he didn’t let it bother him for long.
He had a great family (even though on more than one occasion he had thought that being an only child could have had it’s advantages). His Dad was never too busy to explain how things worked (even barmy muggle things), he had enough brothers so that there was always someone around to play chess or talk about quidditch with, and Ginny wasn’t even bad even though she was a girl. She was always ready to go on adventures around the pond and never got grossed out by slimy creatures. Then there was his Mum. Sometimes he got tired of her telling him to clean his room, but she was always the first thing that he thought of when he thought of home.
Next year he wouldn’t be home for his birthday. He would be at Hogwarts. Today he would get his letter (even though he sometimes had nightmares that he was the first Weasley in history to not get an invitation) and it would be his turn to do all the amazing things Bill and Charlie told him about on holidays. Would he play Quidditch? Would he be a prefect? Surely he would be a Gryffindor…but what if he were none of those things?
As he thought about the future, the smell of bacon brought him back to the present. The best thing about birthdays was that he got to be “King for a Day” and eat his favorite foods and have no chores. Sure, he secretly dreamed about his parents surprising him with a broom (even though he technically wasn’t supposed to have one yet) or a Cannons jersey, but he would never tell them that.
Ron never (well almost never) minded doing without for himself, but he couldn’t stand the thought of his parents thinking he was disappointed. So he put on his best birthday face, deciding to enjoy whatever the day might bring. Next year was filled with exciting, scary question marks. Part of him was ready to run and jump into that future; he could see it waiting for him, like a packed trunk, on that same platform where all his brothers had waved their goodbyes. But part of him was content to snuggle under his blankets and enjoy the comforts of childhood a little while longer.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY to the love of my fictional life, Ronald Billius Weasley. Here is a little something different, a dose of my favorite clueless dorks as 14 year old sweeties.
Hermione tried to focus, but the words on the parchment continued to blur under her exhausted gaze. She had begun the same essay four times in the last half hour to no avail. As stubborn as she was, she knew that to continue on this track would be fruitless. She should be asleep like everyone else in Gryffindor Tower but she would not allow herself the luxury until she had at least completed one more assignment.
Digging through her bag, she brought out her planner, determined to maintain the oppressive work schedule she’d made for herself. As she flipped through the pages she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was forgetting something how to live like a normal person more than likely. It was a feeling she had more and more often as the year wore on.
How had she ever thought this was a good idea? How had Professor McGonagall ever agreed to let alone suggested such a scenario for a 14 year old girl? Not for the first time Hermione felt a vague sense of doubt in the level of discernment displayed in the Wizarding World. Sighing deeply she found the proper week in her planner 27 February - 5 March, not even all of the neatly crossed off tasks calmed her nerves. Ok, so today is Sunday…no, Monday…you went to classes today, silly, that makes tomorrow….oh!
March. Tomorrow was March. The first. Well, from the deserted nature of the common room, to be more accurate, TODAY was the first of March!
How could she have forgotten? Ron’s birthday!! And she didn’t even have him a card, a gift, nothing! She wanted to cry. The logical part of her mind knew that her emotions were running high because of her mental and physical exhaustion, but even more than that she didn’t want to hurt Ron’s feelings. She had been just awful to him about Scabbers not that he had been a saint to her, but that was besides the point, and now that they were finally back to being on friendly terms again, she really didn’t want to risk a set back.
Not that she would have gotten him an extravagant gift, he honestly hadn’t made that big of a deal about his birthday in the past, but for a reason she couldn’t quite explain, she felt that it was very important to do so this year. But how? There was no time!
Time. For a moment the weight of the time turner pressed into her chest as it lay buried beneath her jumper. She had more time if she needed it. She might not be able to buy a gift, but she could at least think of something creative before the morning.
“Hermione?”
She nearly fell out of her chair, thankful that her secret was still tucked securely out of sight, she looked around for the source of the familiar voice.
“Oh, Ron! Hi! What…what are you doing up?”
“I was gonna ask you the same question. Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“I know, I was almost done,” she began to stack her books in a more orderly fashion, trying to avoid the obvious disapproval in his tone.
“Do you…need any help?” the concern in his voice made her stop and look up it him. He continued a little lamely, “I mean…I know that I might not be much help, but it seems like there’s just…a lot, you know?”
She must have looked like a stunned flobberworm, the way she stared at him open-mouthed, “no…I mean…not that you couldn’thelp, but I really am done for the night.”
“Morning.”
“Semantics.”
“Sah…whatics?”
“Nothing. You never answered my question.”
Ron looked down at his slippers, the faintest shade of pink coming into his ears, “I..uh…well….it’s a little ridiculous, really.”
“Did you,” she lowered her voice and stepped around the table toward him, “have a nightmare?”
“What?!” he crossed his arms defiantly and huffed at her from beneath his scowl, “I most certainly did not!”
Navigating the male teenage psyche was even more complicated than Hermione had previously thought, “Of course not! How silly of me! What then?”
“Well, you know tomorrow’s my birthday.”
“Today, actually.”
“Any way…It’s completely mental I know, but I always have trouble sleeping the night before my birthday.”
“I thought you loved sleeping in,” she thought of the countless mornings she and Harry had watched him all but drag himself like a zombie to breakfast.
“I do, but growing up,” he hesitated for a moment and she could tell that he was trying to decide if he should continue, “I told you, it’s stupid.”
“It doesn’t sound stupid to me.”
He looked a bit skeptical, but leaned against the back of the sofa and continued, “Well, see…it’s not about the gifts and stuff because…well, it’s just not.”
Hermione wanted to ask questions, but something stopped her. The Weasley Family finances were a tender subject to say the least. She was also afraid that if she interrupted him he may not continue; she nodded in a way that she hope was encouraging.
“You see, in a house with so many kids it’s hard to feel…special, ya know?”
She didn’t really, but she would never say so; it must be lovely to have a home so full of life and warmth and magic. “I can imagine.”
“But Mum always makes sure that on your birthday you get to be, like, King for the Day.” his features were alight, and it wasn’t just the fire either. She was mesmerized.
She sat down on the arm of the chair closest to him, “How does she do that?”
“Well, she makes your favorite foods…even if you want pudding for breakfast, that’s what you get! In bed if you want!”
Hermione tried to imagine her own mother letting her eat pudding for breakfast or take any food in her bedroom for that matter. She almost laughed out loud at the thought, “that does sound pretty fantastic, even if it’s horrible for your teeth.”
“Teeth! Gods, Hermione! Those sort of things don’t matter on your birthday! Don’t your parents ever let you have fun?”
“Of course they do!”
“Reading books doesn’t count as fun.”
“Oh…well, it does to me,” she looked down at her lap suddenly very self conscious.
“Well then, on your birthday, you could do that…that really is the point. The whole day, you get to do whatever you want!”
“It really does sound lovely, your Mum sounds like she gives the best birthdays,” she knew that no 14 year old boy would gush on for long about his mother, but she did think Mrs. Weasley was pretty special.
“Yeah, I miss…those days. I guess I should’ve been more appreciative of ‘em when I was home. She still sends gifts and some biscuits, but it’s not quite the same. Ya know, Harry’s a great friend, but I don’t think he’ll go along with King Ron, not even for a day,” they both laughed at the thought.
Hermione suddenly had an idea, “What about me?”
“What about you?”
“Well, we do have to go to class, I can’t change that, but what about I let you decide whatever else we do today?”
His face split into a wide grin, “Really? You’d do that…for me?”
“Of course! It’s the least I could do after…well, after not buying you a proper gift.”
“But what about all…this?” he motioned toward her mountain of revisions.
“Oh, that? I’m caught up for at least a day or two,” she lied, mentally calculating how many twists of the turner it might take to compensate for her offer.
“Wicked! Thanks, Hermione.”
“So, what is the plan for the day?”
“Ok…let’s meet for breakfast in a few hours and I’ll let you know from there, alright?”
“Perfect..but I have to know…will there be chocolate biscuits at this breakfast?”
He helped her pack up her bag, and they headed toward the staircase.
“Hermione, I am shocked!” He made an ostentatious display of innocence. “You cannot have a proper birthday without breakfast biscuits!”
“Of course not, how could I be so thick!” She rolled her eyes at him from the bottom step, “And I shouldn’t forget the chocolate frogs for lunch.”
Never one to leave the last word, Ron quipped over his shoulder, “That’s the spirit, we’ll make a Weasley out of you yet!”
Hermione tried desperately to ignore the little flutter that accompanied her to bed and into the most pleasant dreams she could properly remember.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY to the love of my fictional life, Ronald Billius Weasley. Here is a little something different, a dose of my favorite clueless dorks as 14 year old sweeties.
Hermione tried to focus, but the words on the parchment continued to blur under her exhausted gaze. She had begun the same essay four times in the last half hour to no avail. As stubborn as she was, she knew that to continue on this track would be fruitless. She should be asleep like everyone else in Gryffindor Tower but she would not allow herself the luxury until she had at least completed one more assignment.
Digging through her bag, she brought out her planner, determined to maintain the oppressive work schedule she’d made for herself. As she flipped through the pages she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was forgetting something how to live like a normal person more than likely. It was a feeling she had more and more often as the year wore on.
How had she ever thought this was a good idea? How had Professor McGonagall ever agreed to let alone suggested such a scenario for a 14 year old girl? Not for the first time Hermione felt a vague sense of doubt in the level of discernment displayed in the Wizarding World. Sighing deeply she found the proper week in her planner 27 February - 5 March, not even all of the neatly crossed off tasks calmed her nerves. Ok, so today is Sunday…no, Monday…you went to classes today, silly, that makes tomorrow….oh!
March. Tomorrow was March. The first. Well, from the deserted nature of the common room, to be more accurate, TODAY was the first of March!
How could she have forgotten? Ron’s birthday!! And she didn’t even have him a card, a gift, nothing! She wanted to cry. The logical part of her mind knew that her emotions were running high because of her mental and physical exhaustion, but even more than that she didn’t want to hurt Ron’s feelings. She had been just awful to him about Scabbers not that he had been a saint to her, but that was besides the point, and now that they were finally back to being on friendly terms again, she really didn’t want to risk a set back.
Not that she would have gotten him an extravagant gift, he honestly hadn’t made that big of a deal about his birthday in the past, but for a reason she couldn’t quite explain, she felt that it was very important to do so this year. But how? There was no time!
Time. For a moment the weight of the time turner pressed into her chest as it lay buried beneath her jumper. She had more time if she needed it. She might not be able to buy a gift, but she could at least think of something creative before the morning.
“Hermione?”
She nearly fell out of her chair, thankful that her secret was still tucked securely out of sight, she looked around for the source of the familiar voice.
“Oh, Ron! Hi! What…what are you doing up?”
“I was gonna ask you the same question. Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“I know, I was almost done,” she began to stack her books in a more orderly fashion, trying to avoid the obvious disapproval in his tone.
“Do you…need any help?” the concern in his voice made her stop and look up it him. He continued a little lamely, “I mean…I know that I might not be much help, but it seems like there’s just…a lot, you know?”
She must have looked like a stunned flobberworm, the way she stared at him open-mouthed, “no…I mean…not that you couldn’thelp, but I really am done for the night.”
“Morning.”
“Semantics.”
“Sah…whatics?”
“Nothing. You never answered my question.”
Ron looked down at his slippers, the faintest shade of pink coming into his ears, “I..uh…well….it’s a little ridiculous, really.”
“Did you,” she lowered her voice and stepped around the table toward him, “have a nightmare?”
“What?!” he crossed his arms defiantly and huffed at her from beneath his scowl, “I most certainly did not!”
Navigating the male teenage psyche was even more complicated than Hermione had previously thought, “Of course not! How silly of me! What then?”
“Well, you know tomorrow’s my birthday.”
“Today, actually.”
“Any way…It’s completely mental I know, but I always have trouble sleeping the night before my birthday.”
“I thought you loved sleeping in,” she thought of the countless mornings she and Harry had watched him all but drag himself like a zombie to breakfast.
“I do, but growing up,” he hesitated for a moment and she could tell that he was trying to decide if he should continue, “I told you, it’s stupid.”
“It doesn’t sound stupid to me.”
He looked a bit skeptical, but leaned against the back of the sofa and continued, “Well, see…it’s not about the gifts and stuff because…well, it’s just not.”
Hermione wanted to ask questions, but something stopped her. The Weasley Family finances were a tender subject to say the least. She was also afraid that if she interrupted him he may not continue; she nodded in a way that she hope was encouraging.
“You see, in a house with so many kids it’s hard to feel…special, ya know?”
She didn’t really, but she would never say so; it must be lovely to have a home so full of life and warmth and magic. “I can imagine.”
“But Mum always makes sure that on your birthday you get to be, like, King for the Day.” his features were alight, and it wasn’t just the fire either. She was mesmerized.
She sat down on the arm of the chair closest to him, “How does she do that?”
“Well, she makes your favorite foods…even if you want pudding for breakfast, that’s what you get! In bed if you want!”
Hermione tried to imagine her own mother letting her eat pudding for breakfast or take any food in her bedroom for that matter. She almost laughed out loud at the thought, “that does sound pretty fantastic, even if it’s horrible for your teeth.”
“Teeth! Gods, Hermione! Those sort of things don’t matter on your birthday! Don’t your parents ever let you have fun?”
“Of course they do!”
“Reading books doesn’t count as fun.”
“Oh…well, it does to me,” she looked down at her lap suddenly very self conscious.
“Well then, on your birthday, you could do that…that really is the point. The whole day, you get to do whatever you want!”
“It really does sound lovely, your Mum sounds like she gives the best birthdays,” she knew that no 14 year old boy would gush on for long about his mother, but she did think Mrs. Weasley was pretty special.
“Yeah, I miss…those days. I guess I should’ve been more appreciative of ‘em when I was home. She still sends gifts and some biscuits, but it’s not quite the same. Ya know, Harry’s a great friend, but I don’t think he’ll go along with King Ron, not even for a day,” they both laughed at the thought.
Hermione suddenly had an idea, “What about me?”
“What about you?”
“Well, we do have to go to class, I can’t change that, but what about I let you decide whatever else we do today?”
His face split into a wide grin, “Really? You’d do that…for me?”
“Of course! It’s the least I could do after…well, after not buying you a proper gift.”
“But what about all…this?” he motioned toward her mountain of revisions.
“Oh, that? I’m caught up for at least a day or two,” she lied, mentally calculating how many twists of the turner it might take to compensate for her offer.
“Wicked! Thanks, Hermione.”
“So, what is the plan for the day?”
“Ok…let’s meet for breakfast in a few hours and I’ll let you know from there, alright?”
“Perfect..but I have to know…will there be chocolate biscuits at this breakfast?”
He helped her pack up her bag, and they headed toward the staircase.
“Hermione, I am shocked!” He made an ostentatious display of innocence. “You cannot have a proper birthday without breakfast biscuits!”
“Of course not, how could I be so thick!” She rolled her eyes at him from the bottom step, “And I shouldn’t forget the chocolate frogs for lunch.”
Never one to leave the last word, Ron quipped over his shoulder, “That’s the spirit, we’ll make a Weasley out of you yet!”
Hermione tried desperately to ignore the little flutter that accompanied her to bed and into the most pleasant dreams she could properly remember.
