|Entry 003: Place The Blame
||[May. 30th, 2007|07:32 am]
Harry Potter 100 Song FanFic Challenge
TITLE: Place The Blame|
SONG: #063 – Stars (Sung By Switchfoot)
WORD COUNT: 1,209
SUMMARY: Ron sees something he doesn’t want to face. Is this really happening?
Divination class had never been his favorite, but that day it seemed to drag on even longer than normal. He tended to get bored easily in the class, so that wasn’t a surprise, but it was strange the way he was entertaining himself that day, actually using something that he’d learned in class to waste some time.
As Professor Trelawney moved around the classroom, Ron took out a few of his books and began to scan the pages. The flipping pages made a sound that seemed to echo in the room, but no one seemed to notice. The only thing people ever noticed about him in that class was that he was a year older than everyone who was taking the lowest level of the course.
He stopped on one of the star charts they’d used two days before. It looked like a blueprint of sorts, except this “building” was a big circle that seemed to have a spider’s web in the middle of it.
Despite his skeptical attitude towards the whole process, he remembered that the chart’s details were known to be useful in understanding, interpreting, and organizing information about personality, human affairs, and other terrestrial matters. He knew that if he alone couldn’t figure out Hermione, then this chart definitely could, or at least Professor Trelawney would say it would.
Pulling out a quill, he opened his ink and scratched out a few details while skimming the books for new information. He had to find out something, if anything, about September 19, 1979, Hermione’s birthday.
As the blueprint of the chart began to take shape, something strange seemed to happen. The page seemed to draw itself and as a lightheaded feeling covered him, he found himself looking into some sort of parallel world, much the way he’d found out that Harry had seen the past by looking through The Pensieve that Dumbledore had in his office. Except these memories weren’t his or anyone else’s he’d known. He recognized everyone of course, it was he and Hermione arguing which wasn’t out of the ordinary, he was just confused because he wasn’t the one who had said these horrible things to her.
Ron: Go on.
Hermione: Next time there's a ball, pluck up the courage and ask me before somebody else does, and NOT as a last resort!
The images on the page stared at each other for a moment. Ron looked around and wondered if anyone else could hear their conversation. When he saw a few of the first years intently reading tea leaves he guessed that they weren’t paying attention.
Ron: "No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood."
“Hey!” he yelled out.
“Ronald?” Professor Trelawney said.
“Sorry Professor,” he said and scrunched down in his desk so that he could continue to watch. School desks weren’t the most comfortable and trying to cram his long legs into the desk was uncomfortable.
His mouth fell open as the images moved in front of him. He wanted to reach in there and flick himself in the head for treating Hermione that way. He’d never spoken to her in that manner in the past so why would he speak to her like that now.
No wonder she hated him. If this is what they had to look forward to, then no wonder she was staying away from him. He knew that he could barely say the word Mudblood aloud, but it seemed as if the times had changed him and that the word was free flowing now.
Ron: " Mudblood."
That’s when it dawned on him. Maybe this wasn’t the past. Maybe this was the future. Despite growing up in a very muggle-tolerant home, probably one of the most tolerant in the world, he seemed to be getting out all the things that he’d heard others say over the years.
Ron:"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families.
The voice might have been his, but he realized that it was Malfoy’s words that were now coming out of his mouth. Was this a joke? Had he really been that mean to her that it would turn into this? Was Malfoy playing some prank on him?
Draco hated Hermione, well actually any muggle-born, but recently he had left her alone. He’d been busy with Quidditch and running around trying to mess with Harry. They’d recently found out that he was the informer behind Rita Skeeter's continuing assault on Harry's credibility, but those reports had stopped after the wizards cup had ended. Everyone had assumed that Draco’s attention no longer included harassing anyone other than harry. Out of his range of terror, everyone had relaxed, now it was clear that they had relaxed too much. Why would he do something like this?
How was he doing something like this?
He looked around the room wondering if Malfoy was somewhere around. He had the knack for being a talented wizard, picking up nonverbal jinx-blocking before anyone else, maybe this was something else he’d learned from one of the older boys in school.
Hermione: How could you do this to me?
Ron: "You don't know what I'm capable of, you don't know what I've done!"
“What have I done?” he asked since the image of him seemed to be hinting that this was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to the way he felt about her.
Not able to keep his feelings in check, he reached for the paper and crumbled it up. The sound echoed in the room. When he looked up he realized that the place was empty. He’d day dreamed his way through class.
“It’s not my fault,” he said.
“What is not your fault Ronald?” Professor Trelawney appeared at his side, using that strange silent manner she moved around Hogwart’s with.
He wondered randomly for a moment if she’d ended up at the Quidditch World Cup if she’d act that way. He’d seen a lot of crazy things at the event and prayed that even an old woman so set in her ways would losen up a little at a moment that called for cheering and laughter and movement.
“I didn’t mean to do it,” he said aloud.
“I know,” she said.
He wasn’t sure for a moment what she was referring to. If she had meant that he’d gotten all the way through class without paying attention he should agree with her, but he felt that maybe she’d seen the page in front of him. If she had maybe she too would blame him for all those horrible things he’d done.
“I’ve got to go to class,” he said suddenly knowing that if that paper got into the wrong hands, namely Hermione’s he could be digging himself out of a bigger hole than he was already in.
Peering at him over her big glasses she smiled, “How nice to see you in the physical world at last."
“Ye-yeah,” he stuttered and got up and left the room.
Maybe I've been the problem
Maybe I'm the one to blame
But even when I turn it off and blame myself
The outcome feels the same
I've been thinking maybe I've been partly cloudy
Maybe I'm the chance of rain
And maybe I'm overcast
And maybe all my luck's washed down the drain
I've been thinking 'bout everyone
Everyone, you look so lonely
But when I look at the stars
When I look at the stars
When I look at the stars
I see someone else
When I look at the stars, the stars
I feel like myself
Stars looking at a planet watching entropy and pain
And maybe start to wonder how
The chaos in our lives could pass as sane
Ive been thinking about the meaning of resistance
Of a world beyond my own
And suddenly the infinite and penitent
Began to look like home
Everyone everyone you feel so lonely
Everyone, yeah, everyone you feel so empty
I see someone...
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