Chapter Text
Ron Weasley did not like Severus Snape, who glared at Harry the entire time he made his speech about the rules they'd have to uphold and the expectations they'd have to meet as Slytherins. He hated the man, despite him not having spoken a single word to him, despite him not sparing him a single glance all evening. He'd been at Hogwarts for all of a couple of hours and had already disappointed his bloodline and made a few enemies; he could tell it would be an interesting year.
As soon as they were dismissed, he went into the room he'd be staying in for the rest of his first year, looking around immediately. Five beds arranged in a sort of arch, all four posters, and covered in green eiderdowns with curtains. They all had a wooden nightstand and school trunk at the foot of the bed. A wooden board, chair, dresser, and bookcase were located near the nightstand and window. The walls and floors were made of stone, and the dorm had a green carpet with the house crest and two spherical lamps. A wooden table in the center of the dormitory featured books, parchments, and a plant in a flower pot.
Harry chose the one closest to the door, so Ron chose the one right next to it.
He pulled out his wand and, as quietly as he could, murmured a few spells that would ensure his belongings stayed safe before doing the same for Harry. Luckily Draco wasn't in their room, so Ron took a moment to look his new roommates over. Blaise Zabini, he recognized him as the very last student sorted. He was a pureblood, and his mother was the suspect of several murders; not loud about his bigotry but he didn't associate with 'mudbloods' or 'blood traitors', so befriending him would be near impossible.
The other two boys, Ron vaguely recognized because both belonged to the Sacred Twenty-Eight; Theodore Nott and Elias Travers. The Notts were known as blood supremacists, so both Harry and Ron would have to steer clear of him, but the Travers mostly kept to themselves, they weren't outwardly rude or hostile to others, so he might be safe. Zabini was a half-blood, and also a blood supremacist, but he wasn't confrontational, just rude, so it was best to be wary of him but not to exclude him; he needed allies, though that would be a challenge since so many people in Slytherin hated him.
To avoid angering anyone else, he and Harry would need to begin studying about the expected etiquette of a pureblood. Luckily Ron was a quick learner, he just hoped his friend was too, because there would be so much more pressure on Harry. He was a Potter, so people expected great things from him. It wasn't exactly common knowledge that he was raised by Muggles, but Ron would catch him up; they would need every single advantage they could get.
He would have to write this all down in the morning, but it was too late now. The castle was huge, bigger than he ever imagined, so he needed a lot of energy to run around all day looking for his classes. He'd have to sit down with Harry and make out a game plan, but that was an issue for the following day, so Ron let himself fall into an uneasy sleep.
Ron was a very light sleeper, as a result of living with the twins. They liked to lay their traps whenever he was too out of it to notice, typically when he was tired or distracted, which led to excellent spatial awareness. He woke up as soon as he heard the other three boys stirring, starting their day. He sat up, yawning slightly and wanting to lay back down; the bed was the softest thing he'd ever felt, and he wanted nothing more than to keep sleeping, but he had a busy day ahead of him, so he reached out to open the curtain.
As soon as he did so, he flinched back at the tired, emerald eyes staring at him. Harry's hair was far messier than it had been the day before; he'd likely just woken up, and Ron's heart was warm that as soon as Harry awoke, he sought him out specifically. To him, it further proved that Harry was his, and Ron was Harry's. They belonged to each other, they needed each other.
He smiled at his friend, reaching up to try and tame his own bedhead a bit before getting up and going to his trunk, located at the foot of his bed, looking for his robes. He put them on his bed and got back on it, closing the curtains as he rushed to get changed.
All the boys in the dorm were awake at that point but no words were exchanged as they all went into the bathroom at the same time, all brushing their teeth and going about their morning routines. They still had a whole before classes started, so Zabini and Nott headed out, while Ron tried to help a hopeless Harry tame his wild curls. Travers saw their struggle and was kind enough to give them a bit of his hair gel. That barely did a thing, so he sat with them as they tried to make Harry look presentable.
At least the Potter sat still, letting them do whatever to his hair.
After twenty minutes, there was significant progress. Harry looked surprisingly good by the time they were done, and the three boys made their way down to the Great Hall together. Elias was surprisingly eager to talk to the other two boys, and not in a nosy way; he was lonely, and he just wanted a friend or two, which he found in Ron and Harry.
"I can write to my parents and ask them for a few more containers of my hair products, and give them to you since we have the same hair type?" He said, nervously, to which Harry blinked in surprise before nodding eagerly. "That would be brilliant! Thank you! Please let me know how much they cost, I'll pay you back as soon as I can. I'm...very new to magic, and banks. The goblins are intimidating." He said, muttering the last part under his breath.
Ron laughed, smiling at the other two. "Don't worry, I can help you with that. It's easy, you typically have to go to the bank in person to withdraw anything from your vault, which you can't do because only third years and up are allowed to leave the castle outside of breaks, or you can send them a letter with proof of identity, like blood. Be careful though, don't send a lot, only a drop or two. A lot of nasty magic can be done with blood."
"Nasty magic?" Harry asked, looking to his right, where Ron walked beside him; Elias walked on Harry's left.
Ron took a moment to figure out how to word his response, knowing he'd have to be mindful of his words. Every witch and wizard was more inclined to a certain type of magic; Weasleys were typically light, Potters grey, and Travers were dark.
"Yeah, some pretty painful curses could be attached to a person using blood. There's also tons of rituals that require blood, and for someone so new to the magic word, the absolute last thing you need is to be involved in a ritual in any way." He said, trying to think of anything he could add, but nothing more came to mind.
"What kind of rituals? What do they do? Can anyone perform rituals?" Harry asked, looking up at Ron. Elias was looking at the redhead too, studying him, trying to see how he responded; gauging what type of person he was, and what his beliefs were.
"Well, like I said, there's a ton of rituals; some need blood, some don't, it depends on which one you're trying to do. Each ritual is different in a lot of ways; they all have different requirements and results. And technically , everyone can perform a ritual, but a lot of them are banned because of prejudice or because they're dangerous. On top of that, rituals and spells come easier for some than they do for others. Let's say you wanted to perform a darker ritual, it would come easier to you or Elias than it would to me, probably. Everyone's magic is different too; some people lean more towards light magic, some to dark, and some don't lean anywhere. Potters are known for typically being a grey family, while Weasleys are light, and Travers are dark. Which magic you're more inclined to doesn't necessarily mean anything though. You can do any type of magic, the type you're more inclined to just means it'll be easier for you, and your type of magic doesn't affect your morality at all; that's a common, and stupid, misconception." Ron said, choosing his words carefully.
He looked at Elias, whose shoulders released some tension that he hadn't even noticed was there. The other boy nodded at him, looking forward. Harry was looking down, and Ron could tell his mind was going a mile a minute, trying to process all of the information he'd just been told.
After a few minutes of walking in silence, Harry spoke up again. "What did you mean when you said that darker rituals would come easier to me or Elias than you probably? Why say probably?" He asked, and Ron tilted his head slightly to the side as he answered. "Well, like I said before, Weasleys are typically light, but I think I'm not. I mean, it's uncommon but not entirely unheard of for someone to have a different type of magic core than the rest of their family."
"Is there like, some kind of test or spell you can do to see?" Harry asked, and this time it was Elias that responded. "Yeah, at Gringotts, they can do all sorts of tests. Ancestry tests, core tests, even creature tests! I want to get some done one day, to see what I'm made up of. Are you going to do one, Ron?"
Ron thought for a minute before shrugging. "Sure, I'm curious. I think I'll do the core test first, and then a while later, maybe in a year or two, do the creature test. I'm not all that curious about my family, my ancestors, so I don't feel the need to check who they were. Are you going to get any done, Harry?" He asked, and Harry nodded eagerly, looking at the two of them with stars in his eyes and a wide grin on his face.
"For sure! They sound so cool! What's the creature test?" He asked brightly, and Ron answered. "A blood test, to see if you have any creature heritage. It's recommended to take those young, so if you do, when it kicks in, it won't be unexpected; most creature genes are dormant until certain ages."
"Oh! That sounds really cool! Maybe you can take your core test when I send in my letter for the withdrawal? Actually, no, we can take the core test together; I want to take one too. Will you take it with us, Elias?" Harry asked, his head tilted as he looked over at the pale, brown-haired boy, who shrugged. "I don't know, I've never had reason to believe I might have creature heritage." He said.
"But like Ron said, what if you do? If you take the test, you'll know before the genes kick in, and you'll have time to prepare. If you don't, what do you lose? How much does the test cost?" Harry asks, aiming the question at Ron. "They're all a Sickle and three Knuts, not very expensive."
Harry then pointed at Ron while looking at Elias. "See! You don't lose anything by taking a test, you can gain valuable knowledge though." He said, and Elias playfully sighed as he rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll take a core test with you two. When do you want to do it? I say over a weekend because then we can either ask an older student to get us the tests, or just ask to get smuggled out. My older brother is a sixth year, he'd be willing to do either, and the merpeople are willing to swim you up to shore, I can teach you a charm to make a bubble around your head so you can breathe."
"Alright, I think it would be better to go in person, because since we're already going to the bank then Harry can make the withdrawal, no need to send blood," Ron said, receiving nods from his friends. Before they could say another word, they arrived at the Great Hall. They all entered and quickly walked over to the Slytherin table, sitting at the very end; everyone else gave them a wide berth for the moment, but Ron knew the space they were being given wouldn't last.
He cast a quick Tempus and saw that it was 7:25, breakfast didn't end until 8:30 and their first class didn't start until 9:00, which gave them plenty of time to eat and make a plan for the day.
Ron filled his plate, and he made sure both his friends had decent amounts of food on their plates too before he started to eat. Mail typically came in at 8:00, and he was anticipating a howler from his mother.
He ate fairly quickly, finishing at 7:57. He cleaned the area around him and regretfully asked Harry to scoot down a bit. "Why?" Harry had asked, and Ron sighed. "Mail's arriving soon, at 8, and I know I'm getting a Howler. No doubt Fred and George snitched to Mom and Dad about what house I got sorted into, and like I said before, Weasleys are light, while Slytherins are often seen as dark; my mom is going to be livid . Howlers are letters, but they yell their contents to you, and they explode if you don't open them in a specific time frame. Time will almost be up by the time it gets here, meaning it'll explode, and I don't want you to get started by the yelling or the fire, cause they go up in flames as soon as they're done; leaving behind nothing but ash." He says, and his friend looks at him sadly before scooting even closer and reaching out to grab the redhead's hand.
"Then I think I'll stay right where I'm at, I don't want you to get yelled at alone; especially over something so stupid." He said, and Ron smiled at the smaller boy. Elias looked at them from across the table, puzzled, before shaking his head and going back to his letter. He was eating as he wrote, asking his parents for more of his hair products.
They stayed like that for another minute, before hundreds, if not thousands, of owls flooded the Great Hall, flying high and carrying letters and packages of all sizes before landing in front of their owners. As Ron expected, Errol was one of the last to arrive, almost landing on Elias' plate. He took the red letter the bird held, and Harry fed him bits of food while Ron waited for it to explode, which only took a few moments.
"RONALD WEASLEY!" It shouted out, rearranging itself into the shape of a mouth and using the voice of who everyone could only assume to be Mrs. Weasley.
The Great Hall suddenly went silent, exactly like it had the night before, during the sortings. Ron looked at the floating letter with a bored expression on his face, his mouth set in a firm line and stony glint in his eyes. He ignored everyone that was looking at him, focusing only on the warmth and weight of Harry's hand held tightly in his.
"HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO YOUR FAMILY?! WE DID NOT RAISE YOU LIKE THIS! YOUR FATHER AND I ARE ON OUR WAY TO HOGWARTS RIGHT NOW TO GET YOU RESORTED! WE DID NOT RAISE A SNAKE !" It hissed, and Ron clutched Harry's hand tighter. The boy had flinched when it first exploded and when the yelling began, but he hadn't made a move to let go of Ron's hand or to move away from him. Ron appreciated it more than he could say, that his best friend was willing to sit through something that obviously scared him on Ron's behalf.
"HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO US?! HOW COULD YOU DISAPPOINT US LIKE THIS?! YOU HAVE BROUGHT SHAME ONTO OUR FAMILY NAME! TRUST THAT THIS ISN'T OVER RONALD, WE WILL SEE YOU AND YOUR BROTHERS SOON!" It finished, and everyone kept staring at the youngest Weasley at Hogwarts. He didn't flinch as the Howler burst into flames, instead staring down at the pile of ashes, his eyes alight with rage.
He gave one last squeeze to Harry's hand and a final nod to Elias before he slammed his hands down on the table as loud as he could, standing and marching to the Gryffindor table.
He immediately found Fred and George, snarling at them as he seethed . Both his brothers tensed as he approached, it made him fight a smirk as his brothers shifted uneasily in their seats at the sight of him. He had always been vindictive, and it was such an addictive feeling to see the siblings that had tormented him for so long fear him.
He came up behind them, resting a hand on each's shoulders and squeezing tightly as he leaned down to whisper in their ears. "Let's go outside to wait for Mother, shall we ?" He hissed, and he finally smirked as he felt their flinches. He didn't even give them the chance to respond, he just let go of them and turned on his heel, storming out of the Great Hall with his shoulders squared and his head held high.
If it was a snake his family wanted, it would be a snake they would get.
Fred immediately sought out Errol as soon as the owls arrived, carrying mail. He knew his family owl would be among the last, so he waited patiently, to see how his parents would respond to the letter George had sent out last night. He personally hadn't approved, he knew his mother had a hair-trigger temper and he knew how easy it was to set her off; It had been his goal most of his life after all, to see how far she could be pushed before she snapped.
Howlers were rare at Hogwarts because most families preferred to handle their drama in private, and parents rarely sent them to their children to spare them the public humiliation. Molly Weasley apparently didn't share the same sentiments, shaming her youngest son in front of everyone at Hogwarts.
Fred felt his heart break as he looked over to his youngest brother, who stared at the Howler as he was told he was a disappointment, a snake, shameful. He watched as Ron didn't even flinch under the barrage of insults, he watched as his brother only tilted his head, his eyes cold and stony as he was yelled at in front of everyone.
The Howler went up in flames, and finally, that cold mask broke . His eyes which had been so cold only moments before seemed to be ablaze with rage as Ron slammed both hands down on the table, standing up swiftly and marching to the Gryffindor table. There was a vicious snarl on his face and his eyes were locked onto Fred and George, glaring at them.
He should have fought harder against his twin last night, and should have stopped George from sending that letter because Fred knew that this was where it would lead, he knew this would be the outcome. And yet, despite knowing, he was still surprised his mother would truly go this far. He hadn't thought her capable of spewing the venom she did, and yet he had heard it, as clear as day; no one in the Great Hall didn't hear it.
Fred's eyes stung with tears of hurt as Ron marched over to them, so he looked down at the table, breaking eye contact with his baby brother; that didn't deter Ron in the slightest. He tensed up, beginning to shift uneasily in his seat the closer his brother got. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see George do the same.
He flinched when a cold hand slammed down on his shoulder, squeezing tight enough that the nails dug into his skin, but he didn't dare breathe a word; he wanted to avoid his brother's ire as much as he could, despite knowing it was inevitable. This was the angriest he'd seen Ron in a very, very long time.
"Let's go outside to wait for Mother, shall we ?" His baby brother hissed, and Fred couldn't blame him the slightest bit; not when he knew he'd be just as angry if the roles were reversed. George had no right to tell their mother where he'd been sorted; Ron should have been the one to do that. A sorting was public, but it was also private in the way that it was the talk of the castle, but rarely left it. It was uncommon for someone to tell their parents or relatives of a sorting besides their own, because a sorting was the result of something going deep in your mind and seeing every single bit of you and revealing it; it was intimate and private in a way no one could describe.
Ron should have had the chance to tell their family on his own time, before being publicly humiliated in front of everyone. Especially when he was both a Slytherin and a blood traitor; every day would already be a fight for survival in such a competitive and hostile environment, worsened by the fact that it seemed not even his parents cared for him.
Ron had no one to support him besides a boy he met yesterday and a boy he'd met this morning; Fred knew he was a part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight but he had no idea which family specifically. He technically had Bill, but he was always busy, and Charlie, who was in a different country and also constantly busy, but in more danger. Percy wasn't good at supporting others, Ron had long since lost trust in him and George, and he'd never been particularly close with Ginny because she had her niche, she was a girl. He'd always been the outsider in their family, the black sheep.
Neither he nor George said a word as they were released, he only watched with a heavy heart as Ron turned on his heel and stormed out.
He looked at George sadly, who was looking back at him in horror. "I think, George, that we might have made an enemy of our baby brother." He said softly as he stood and followed Ron out, dreading the day already.
He dreaded the argument he'd bear witness to when his parents finally arrived and mom demanded a resorting; it was a quick and easy thing, but Ron was determined to go to Slytherin, and when he'd walked into the Great Hall that morning he had actually seemed happy as he chatted with two of his year-mates. Ron would do whatever it took to remain in Slytherin, and when he got resorted but remained in the house of snakes, the following screaming match would be nothing less than explosive.
He knew his words to George had been true; they had made an enemy out of Ron a long time ago, when they first began tormenting him. Now that he had more freedom than ever before, Fred fully expected retaliation; he didn't know what kind.
That Howler had effectively burned what little remained of the bridge between their family and Ron; it served only to further ostracize him. He didn't know what his mother expected, pulling a stunt like that, or what his father was thinking, letting her send it, but he hoped they were happy with the result; they served to sever what little remained of the bond between them and their youngest son.
Ron was waiting for him outside of the Great Hall, leaning against a wall and glaring. "Lead the way, dearest brother of mine." He said mockingly, with an empty smile and even emptier eyes.
Fred turned and began heading to Dumbledore's office; a path he knew by heart at this point. He ignored the pair of light footsteps that followed him, he ignored the pair of footsteps that matched his exactly that joined them a moment later, rushing to catch up; he focused only on the halls ahead of them.
Hogwarts was a maze to those who didn't know it, but Fred had walked through these halls millions of times in the three years he'd been a student; he knew the castle like the back of his hand. Leading the two behind him, they arrived at Headmaster Dumbledore's door minutes later, and just as he raised his hand to knock, Fred lowered it as the door opened and the headmaster beckoned them in.
Molly, Arthur, and Ginny were already inside.
As soon as Ron, who was beside George, entered the room, the tension skyrocketed. Mrs. Weasley gasped and Mr. Weasley took a sharp breath, while Ginny just smiled and waved to three of her elder brothers. All three waved back, though Ron's was more hesitant.
"I thought...George had been exaggerating, when he said you were a Slytherin. I had hoped he was joking, and yet here you are, wearing a snake's colors." Molly said, shocked and disappointed. Fred bit down on the side of his cheek hard, hard enough to draw blood, because he knew how angry his brother was; he'd been on the receiving hand of that anger not ten minutes prior, and it was terrifying. So he'd let that anger burn its course by going toe-to-toe with the original bearer of the Weasley anger issues, and he'd do his best to pick up the pieces afterward; he hoped there was something left to salvage when it was all over.
Actually.
Just as Ron took a step forward, glare firmly back in place, Fred gently put a hand on his shoulder and nudged him back. He'd defend his brother this time.
"You thought George was lying and yet you still wrote a Howler and sent it? You still called Ron a disappointment and said he brought shame onto our family? You yelled at him in front of everyone, you publicly humiliated him in front of the whole fucking school over something you assumed was a joke? Even if it was true, which clearly it is, you decided to go and ruin any chance he might have had of surviving in that house?" He said, incredulous. Now his own temper was rearing its head, and it brought him a sense of vindictive joy when she actually took a step back when he stepped forward.
"It's Ron's second day here, he's part of a blood traitor family in a house full of purebloods, with a Head of House that hates us all, and you decided to ruin his chances of survival with that fucking howler? What do you think is going to happen to him? I'm trying, for once in my fucking life, to be there for him after being an utter ass to him his whole life, and I can't do that if he hates us all, which is the path you're putting him on!" He shouted, still slowly walking towards his mother.
The slap was, sadly, not completely unexpected.
"How dare you speak to me like that young man! I am your MOTHER! You have NO RIGHT to take that tone with me!" She shouted back, and now it was George who gently pushed him back, taking his place.
"Oh! You're our mother, you say. Alright then, who am I?" He says, eyes narrowed and shoulders squared. Molly flounders, George pushes on. "What was my first word? Or Ron's, actually. What's his favorite color? Who's he closest to?" He presses, and Molly takes another step back. Arthur watches with cold eyes, out of place on such a warm, kind man, but Fred finally sees where Ron gets it from.
Ginny sat down on one of the couches in the office and was kicking her feet absentmindedly as she watched them fight; Fred almost went to sit with her but decided that Ron needed him more right then. "You say you're our mother and yet you're never actually there! You don't know anything about us! You don't even know who I am!" George seethes, his voice steadily rising in volume.
"THAT IS ENOUGH !" She hisses, and George immediately shuts up, but he doesn't stand down. "Ron will get resorted, and he will go to Gryffindor. You two will be dealt with later ." She says, and Ron snarls at her, but he doesn't fight.
The headmaster gets the Sorting Hat, and Ron walks to the center of the room, his face expressionless and his eyes void of emotion, but as soon as the hat is placed on his head, he smiles, and Fred flinches; it's empty, like his eyes, and it honestly hurts to look at. That look scares him. His brother scares him.
It took only a minute this time, for the hat to declare "SLYTHERIN" once more. Fred wasn't at all surprised, and by the looks of it, neither was his twin nor his brother. Dumbledore's eyes were wide, Ginny was slightly shocked, and his parents were expressionless too.
Ron took the hat off and handed it back to Dumbledore, who took it with shaking hands. "Now that that's done, could we go back to discussing the Howler?" He said, turning on his heel to look at his mother.
"I would like to know what was going through your mind when you wrote it. I want to know why you said what you said, and I want to know if you meant it." He said, and Ron's voice sounded soft .
Molly humored him.
"Yes, I meant every word. I didn't raise a snake, I raised someone who didn't care about blood status or money or wealth or power, I raised a kind boy who cared for his family and wanted to be like them, to follow in the footsteps of his ancestors. I don't know who you are, but you aren't my son." She said, and Ron nodded.
"You didn't raise me at all." Is all he said, his voice still soft in a way that was unbearable to listen to, because it reminded Fred of when he was just a baby, when he'd seek out his siblings for attention because his parents were never there. It reminded Fred of days when they were truly brothers, instead of housemates who barely tolerated each other.
"What do you mean, my boy?" Arthur asks, and his voice is just as soft, just as quiet; barely above a whisper.
"Neither of you raised me at all. I doubt you raised the twins. You didn't answer any of the questions George asked earlier, by the way. My first word was dad, and I said it to Charlie because he was the one who was the kindest to me and was there the most. You didn't raise me at all, because you were never there. And I do care about my family, it's just....not you. I don't know you, you don't know me. I care about my sister and my brothers and my friends. I don't care about blood status, I don't care about what type of wizard or witch someone is, I don't care if someone's a creature or not, you're the one who cares too much about those things. Not all purebloods are supremacists and bigots, not every dark witch or wizard is a dark lord or lady, not every creature is deadly and dangerous." He said, his tone never changing, his voice never wavering.
"I wear green and silver and suddenly I'm a disappointment? I make a friend and stick with him and suddenly I bring shame to my family? I go to the house I belong in most, not because I'm evil but because I'm a strategist, because I'm cunning, and suddenly I'm no longer your son? Then you're no mother of mine. Don't contact me again, because as far as I'm convinced, you're a stranger to me, as I am to you." He said, eyes narrowed with anger but not rage. He was tired, Fred could see. Anger was good fuel, but it burned out quickly.
Ron turned and stalked out, Fred following after glaring at his mother, George on his heels.
"What class do you have right now? I'll lead you there and then go to the Infirmary, Mom hits hard." Fred says, muttering the last few words but he could see his brothers heard him regardless.
Ron pulls his schedule out from his pocket and hands it to Fred, who reads it quickly. "Alright, looks like you have History of Magic first, it's really boring, and hardly anyone pays attention so good luck. Come on." He says as he begins leading his littlest brother to the third floor, making sure to walk slower than his usual pace because he has long legs while Ron doesn't.
They got to the classroom quickly, and before he opened the door, Ron took a good look at him and George.
"I heard what you said in the headmaster's office, about wanting to be there for me. I...don't know if I can be around you two right now, I'm still really angry, but...I think with time we can be brothers again. Can you two give me time and space until I'm ready?" He asks, and he's curling in on himself, avoiding eye contact, trying to make himself small, and Fred's heart hurts .
"We'll give you all the time and space you need, come to us whenever you're ready, and we'll always be there for you, alright?" Fred said, smiling. He wanted to reach out and ruffle Ron's hair, but he didn't think that'd be welcome. Ron relaxed when he heard his words, looking up and smiling at both of them, looking like an actual child for the first time since his sorting. He nods at them and turns, going into the classroom, leaving the twins in the middle of a hallway.
Fred turns and begins heading over to the Infirmary, George falling into step right next to him. No words are exchanged, none are needed; all they need is rest now; their earlier anger leaving them tired too. Today wasn't as bad as it could have been, Fred supposed. Ron was practically disowned, yeah, but he was willing to let Fred and George get close to him again, he had friends, and he was confident enough to stand up to their mother, so Fred would take his small wins with a grin.