A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts-Chapter 648: Crisis of Friendship

"It must be a cat, your guardian is definitely a cat."

As the students returned to the castle under the cover of night, Harry was certain in his assertion to Neville, while Hermione had a differing opinion.

"At the moment, there isn't enough data to indicate—"

"Oh, come on, Hermione. In practice, those of us who have mastered our guardians always feel a stronger connection to the creatures they take form as and can maintain rationality for longer periods. That says a lot. You can't deny that," Harry interjected, his excitement evident. He felt closer emotionally to Sirius and his father.

Counting on his fingers, he continued, "Think about Sirius, Professor McGonagall, and my father—three solid examples. We could even ask Professor Lupin, right, Ron?" He eagerly sought Ron's support.

Ron responded with a forced, awkward smile. Harry immediately cooled down, realizing abruptly that among the four of them, only Ron hadn't succeeded. Yet, here he was, still arguing with Hermione and Neville about Animagi. It didn't sit right with him.

"Are you okay, Ron?" Hermione also noticed Ron's unease. She asked cautiously, "I heard everyone gets two chances, even if it doesn't work out this time—"

"I'm fine," Ron replied promptly, his tone signaling an end to the discussion.

The rest of the journey was filled with silence.

They parted ways in the common room, Dean and Seamus already asleep. Harry changed into his pajamas and set his alarm for the morning. Looking over at Ron's bed, he noticed the deep red curtains were unusually drawn, leaving only a blurry silhouette visible. Harry hesitated for a moment but ultimately remained silent.

As he lay in bed, Harry optimistically thought, Ron had every reason to feel uneasy. Anyone would find it hard to accept being told they didn't make the cut after a month of perseverance.

The next morning, Harry was woken by his alarm. It was still dark outside as he yawned and approached Neville's bed. "Wake up, Neville, wake up!" Neville groggily opened his eyes, fumbling for his clothes with closed eyes.

As they left the dormitory, Harry felt like something was missing until he saw Neville floating behind him, his steps light. It occurred to Harry that he hadn't heard Ron's snoring today.

"Let's go," Hermione said cheerfully, waiting in the common room. "I was about to come get you in five minutes." She gestured towards a direction, where Crookshanks was curled up on an empty armchair, dozing.

They descended the spiral staircase, crossed the entrance hall, and stood on the white stone steps outside the castle. The air at dawn was crisp, with a faint mist hovering in the winter air over the Forbidden Forest.

"Morning."

A weak voice spoke. Harry, Neville, and Hermione jumped, only to find it was Hannah Abbott.

"You're up so early?" Neville was fully awake now, calmly asking.

"I didn't sleep a wink all night," she yawned, struggling to keep her eyes open, her expression somewhat resembling Luna's. "Felt like it was time to get up, it was still dark... I need to finish the spell quickly and catch up on sleep. We have classes during the day."

She shook her braid, bathed in the faint golden sunlight, and loudly chanted the spell.

"Amado, Animo, Animado, Animagus—Amado, Animo, Animado, Animagus—Amado, Animo, Animado, Animagus."

She repeated it three times in a row.

Although Professor McGonagall had told them that chanting the spell once in the morning and once at night was sufficient, no one objected as if Hannah's approach was the most correct. Harry also raised his wand, pointing it at his heart, and chanted the spell loudly. It was too late yesterday to fully appreciate it, but he had never realized how wonderful it was to speak aloud. His voice echoed like rolling waves, merging with the dawn's light on the horizon.

After he finished the third repetition (Hermione had done it five times, and Neville, always concerned about making a mistake, repeated it over a dozen times), as they walked back, they ran into Draco Malfoy coming out of the entrance hall. Harry stared at his back and began to speak irrelevantly.

"Do you guys think, Ron—"

But Harry swallowed his words as soon as he started. Yet, his judgment proved to be spot on; Ron spent the whole Friday with a sour expression, silent even after classes.

By the weekend, he became even more off, taunting Ginny, who was doing homework with them. From criticizing her clothes to indirectly implying Ginny had been thinking about romance since she was ten—Harry found some satisfaction in that statement.

"—Kissing in public even now, it's simply shameful—"

"Say that again," Ginny shrieked, pulling out her wand, seemingly ready to cast her favorite Bat-Bogey Hex. "Don't be impulsive, Ginny, and you—calm down, Ron!" Harry interjected sternly, dragging Ginny away before things got completely out of hand, leaving behind a protesting portrait of the Fat Lady.

"We need some fresh air," he said to Ginny.

"If you're violent again, I won't let you in!" The Fat Lady yelled after their retreating figures.

Harry and Ginny took a stroll around the castle, but when they returned to the courtyard, Ginny was still seething.

"He's just an immature kid," Ginny said. "Mixing insecurity with arrogance. It's strange how he manages it."

"Don't speak about him like that, Ginny. He's your brother," Harry said.

"Oh, you sound just like my mum, but that won't solve anything," Ginny immediately redirected her frustration. "You shouldn't indulge him. Yes, he's got some recognition, but let's face it, all his achievements so far are tied to you. If it weren't for you meeting our family that day but Neville and his grandmother instead, given his conduct—"

She froze suddenly, and Harry felt a chill run down his spine as he slowly turned around.

It was Ron. freewёbnoνel.com

The blush on his face was slowly spreading to his neck, with hints of turning purple.

"Harry quickly intervened, stepping forward to try to restrain Ron, who seemed to have the urge to confront Ginny head-on, or perhaps just to have a verbal spat. Harry didn't want to bet on the outcome.

He found himself effortlessly stopping Ron.

"Is that what you think too?" Ron stepped back repeatedly, hoarse and breathless, his eyes terrifyingly intense. Harry could even see the Mandrake leaves trembling violently in Ron's mouth.

"What? Oh, of course not—" Harry began.

But even he could sense the insincerity in his words, let alone Ron, so Ron flashed that awkward, stiff smile again. "Hey, mate, no need to tiptoe around my feelings. I'd like to hear some truth."

"I'm telling the truth," Harry raised his voice unintentionally, feeling somewhat agitated.

"Is that so?" Ron looked at him, then at Ginny. "Let me tell you what the truth is. The truth is, my sister and my best friend gossip behind my back, gleefully exchanging thoughts on how to look down on me—"

"I haven't! I've been defending you the whole time!" Harry couldn't help but shout back at him. "If that counts as looking down, then yeah, you're right, I do look down on you."

Ron's eyes reddened, and the muscles in his face twitched unnaturally.

"What's gotten into you, Ron?" Ginny exclaimed.

"Shut it, I haven't even started on you yet!" Ron shouted loudly, glaring at Ginny with bulging eyes. "I know—I know exactly how it is. I'm nothing but a loser, a sidekick, a burden to you guys!" He cursed under his breath.

"Bat Bogey!" Ginny brandished her wand, tears glistening in her eyes.

Ron's face was immediately covered with a swarm of black, wriggling creatures. He screamed in pain, swatting at them. Once the bats dispersed, Ron's nose was twice its normal size, with each nostril looking like it could fit a Golden Snitch.

Clutching his nose, Ron spat bloodied Mandrake leaves onto the snowy ground. "Satisfied now? Another failure for me, and you've got more evidence to use against me." Ginny looked shocked as Ron shoved Harry aside, striding angrily toward the hospital wing.

Harry stared at the bloodied leaves on the ground, the bright red mixing with deep green, standing out starkly against the white snow. "Ginny, how could you use the Bat Bogey Hex—"

"He brought it upon himself. Did you not hear how he taunted me this morning?" Ginny snapped. "I'm tired of him taking his frustrations out on me, so don't lecture me."

"He has his good moments, too. He does care about you," Harry argued feebly.

"That's when he's in his right mind."

Just as another argument seemed about to erupt, Hermione appeared, looking visibly puzzled and annoyed. Seeing Harry and Ginny, she hurried over, asking anxiously, "What's going on? I saw Ron holding his nose, and as soon as I asked, he exploded like he'd swallowed a Bludger—oh my goodness, whose blood is this?"

"It's his. He's gone off the rails," Ginny said irritably.

"Don't stir up trouble," Harry muttered, but Ginny huffed, tossing her hair back, and walked off haughtily.

"She's quite the charming girl," Hermione remarked. "So, what's the deal?"

"He's lost it," Harry said, somewhat exasperated. Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I just came back from the library, so don't expect me to piece together the events from these few words."

"Fine, it's because..." Harry dryly recounted what had just happened.

"I never thought of him as a burden or anything like that," Harry defended himself.

Hermione sighed understandingly. "I've been worried about this."

"Worried—about what?"

"Sensitivity, vulnerability, paranoia... I don't know, Harry. But I've been worried that it might suddenly erupt. It's just—" She shook her head, saddened. "We've faced Voldemort and come out on top."

The situation didn't improve over the next week.

Ron mostly treated Harry and Ginny as though they were invisible, either ignoring them or responding with harsh words whenever they interacted. Even Hermione's attempts at mediation were met with hostility. By the weekend, he was often nowhere to be found, abandoning most of his usual social circle. Fortunately, they still crossed paths with Ron in one place—the Quidditch training pitch.

But that conversation ended in discord, with Ron arming himself like a porcupine, ready to jab at any hand extended toward him. Harry pessimistically anticipated that perhaps, as Hermione had said, Ron could only return to normalcy when he accomplished something without relying on them.

"Or maybe unless Voldemort bursts out of Classroom Seven," Harry remarked wistfully."

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