Ron Weasley: Resurgence of the Redhead

Midnight Misadventures

In the stillness of the Gryffindor dormitory, Ron Weasley lay wide awake, his thoughts restless in the quiet of the night. His dorm mates, Dean and Seamus, were deep in slumber, their soft snores contrasting with Ron's sense of unease.

The day's events had left Ron feeling on edge. Unlike his adventurous friend Harry Potter, who seemed to attract trouble, Ron generally avoided seeking this much excitement for one day at Hogwarts. The Weasley family had more than enough excitement at home, and Ron had little appetite for unnecessary adventures at school. However, today was different.

The evening had cast a lingering unease, especially on Harry. He had confided in Ron, expressing concerns about his readiness for a potential duel, given his limited combat experience. Ron did his best to comfort Harry, assuring him that he'd be right by his side, determined to keep him safe. The weight of responsibility lay heavy on Harry's shoulders, considering that he had already encountered more danger in his first year than most students did in their entire time at Hogwarts.

The possibility of something going awry, being caught by Argus Filch, or discovered by his ever-watchful cat, Mrs. Norris, loomed like a dark cloud over Ron's mind. Everything needed to unfold exactly as it had in the past; there was no room for error.

Ron was resolved to keep their mission on track, maintaining a timeline that mirrored his past experiences. His unique ability to foresee the future was a valuable advantage, and he couldn't afford any significant deviations from his previous life's course.

At half-past eleven, Ron, donned in a bathrobe, picked up his wand with determination. They navigated the tower room and descended the spiral staircase into the Gryffindor common room, their anticipation palpable. A few embers in the fireplace cast elongated shadows, adding to the tension in the room. The time had come to set their plan into motion.

As they approached the portrait hole, a voice shattered the silence. "I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry." A lamp flickered to life, revealing Hermione Granger in a pink bathrobe, a disapproving frown etched on her face.

Harry's frustration was evident. "You!" he exclaimed, visibly taken aback by Hermione's presence. "Go back to bed!"

Hermione, however, showed no signs of backing down. "I almost told your brother," she snapped at Ron, "Percy - he's a prefect, and he'd put a stop to this." Harry glared at her, muttering to Ron about her knack for interfering.

"Come on," Ron urged Harry. He pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady, expecting Hermione to relent. However, Hermione persisted in following them through the portrait hole, hissing her frustration at them.

"Don't you care about Gryffindor? Do you only care about yourselves? I don't want Slytherin to win the house cup, and you'll lose all the points I earned from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."

"Go away."

"All right, but I warned you. You just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow. You're so-"

They never found out what Hermione was going to say. She faced the portrait of the Fat Lady, expecting to get back inside, but instead, she found an empty painting. The Fat Lady had gone on a nighttime excursion, leaving Hermione locked out of Gryffindor Tower.

"Now what am I going to do?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"That's your problem," said Ron, suppressing a smile, realizing that she would have to join them again this time. "We've got to go; we're going to be late."

They hadn't even reached the end of the corridor when Hermione caught up with them, insisting on coming along. Ron felt a sense of relief, worrying that Hermione might not have chosen to join them, and that he had messed things up by inviting her earlier.