Descended from Greatness

The contrast between me and those I come from is blinding

The thoughts come flooding even before the weight of the locket thumps against my chest. Honestly, they never leave, just get pushed to the back of my head. There they buzz annoyingly in the background taunting me. With the slightest sign of a break in my defenses, they swarm forward and make me face my inadequacies.

Weak.

Stupid.

Coward.

Weak.

Untalented.

Awkward.

Short-tempered.

Weak.

Unworthy.

Jealous.

Weak.

In a fit of depression and desperation, I once asked my Dad what my good qualities were, if I had any.

I'm not intelligent, book-smart, and organized like Percy.

I'm not witty and innovative like Fred or George.

I'm not athletic like Charlie.

The pity on Dad's face was almost worse than his answer. Almost.

Not powerful and fierce like Ginny.

Not adventurous, smart, cool, good-looking (do I need to go on?) like Bill.

My saving grace according to my beloved father? I'm loyal. Like an effin puppy.

And worst of all? It's not even true. Yeah, it was really loyal of me to blame Hermione for Scabbers' disappearance and then proceed to ignore her, dragging Harry with me and leaving her with absolutely no friends.

Or maybe he was referring to the Triwizard Tournament. You know, the time when I acted like a jealous prat and didn't talk to Harry for weeks (or was that months?) because I thought he had pulled another glory seeking stunt. Of course, that's something I would do, not him. Another flaw of mine I forgot to mention.

Fame-hungry.

I'm sure there are others, but I'm getting off topic. We were discussing my "loyalty," like snogging Lavender Brown in front of Hermione when the was obviously something building between us.

Or maybe that one falls more underneath cruel. Or back to cowardly.

Sorry, off topic again.

(Distractable? Is that even a word?)

How about the fact that for the past week all I can think of besides food and a proper bed is escaping this hellish existence? Does it makes me loyal that I think this whole Horcrux hunt is a royal waste of time? We're not getting anywhere. Is it loyalty that makes me want to shake Harry for making us believed that he had a plan?

I tried to tell myself it's the Locket talking, but it's not. One thing at least I'm not is a liar. These thoughts- I can't shake them. They're like vultures sensing weakness, something I'm full of.

Now that I already sound like a pansy, I just wish there was something special about me. I mean, besides my robes always being two inches too short or that my temper is unrivaled. Something good.

I can just imagine the scene if we actually survive this hunt to defeat Voldemort. The Golden Trio will receive their Orders of Merlin First Class. Harry as the Boy Who Lived and defeated Voldemort, Hermione as the brains of the operation, and Ron- oh well him because he was the first one to talk to the famous Harry Potter on the train to his first year at Hogwarts and well, he's stuck with him ever since. Sort of. Insert polite clapping here.

But it's not my jealousy of my friends that taunts me. It's when I think of my family, the people I come from, that I am struck by my inadequacies.

My mum is a powerhouse. She keeps my entire (large) family impossibly well-fed and (slight less well-)clothed on a miniscule budget. She opens her heart to anyone in need of a little love, even those who don't realize they need it enough to appreciate it. She doesn't need thanks or glory, she just works tirelessly and thanklessly, kind of like house-elves.

I used to not think too highly of her. I mean I loved her and all but I only thought of her as a frumpy, loveable housewife intent on embarrassing me who was also a really good cook. The Order opened my eyes a bit. I mean everyone still rolls their eyes at her when she gets too motherly but they also listen to her. All these powerful, smart, wizards and witches respecting my mum's opinion and I started to wonder if there was more to her than just being a worrier with fantastic cooking abilities. And when her protective, mother-bear instinct is evoked, waves of magic kind of roll off her. I think she has more power than I could ever dream of. That's probably where Ginny and Bill get it from.

And my Dad? Well some think he's a muggle loving-nut, which he kind of is, but he's also an actor and almost spy who faces danger daily.

As the Ministry was infiltrated with Death Eaters, he managed to keep his job. And while no one would be foolish enough to discuss plans in front of the "blood traitor," he still manages to pick up bits up information just by coming in daily, knowing how to be quiet, and knowing how to play just a little bit stupid.

You see that's the thing about my Dad. He doesn't need glory and he doesn't have an ego. He doesn't need anyone to tell him he's great because he knows he is. And with that, he is able allow people to underestimate him and then gain the upper hand in the end. He is able to let the insults roll off him: weasel, blood traitor, poor, muggle lover; and not react. Once minor incident in Flourish and Blotts does not count in all his years of enduring Lucius Malfoy.

Everyone knows how easy it is to rile me up.

Mum's brothers were the famous members of the original Order. Fabian and Gideon Prewett were these awesome fighters whose names will always be remembered and mentioned with a touch of awe.

I wasn't even worthy of inheriting Fabian's pocket watch.

Assuming you care about this sort of thing, which my family doesn't, I'm from real Pureblood stock. I think there are fewer Squibs in my family history than in the Malfoys'. Then again, we are pretty closely related.

Ugh, that makes me nauseous.

So where does this all leave me? I once heard an explanation of the value of good lineage. It's like having a bunch of zeroes at your disposal. You put a number in front of them, any number, and those zeroes are worth something, something great. They can equal thousands, millions.

That's Bill.

Charlie.

Percy.

Fred.

George.

Ginny.

But if you don't have anything to put in front of it? If I am nothing in myself, if I have nothing to add? If I'm not even a one?

Descended from greatness. A lot that does for me.

And I'm whiny.

Author's Note: Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Reviews are always appreciated. First I was worried it was a little too eloquent for Ron but I'm happy with the end product. It definitely has his sarcastic undertones.
It was actually inspired (is that the right word when it's in the negative form?) by a Hugo/Ron story I read that really annoyed me. In it, Hugo feels untalented and worthless compared to his siblings, cousins, and famous parents and Ron comforts him by telling Hugo that he's loyal just like him. And they go skipping off into the sunset. Right. Can you imagine if your parent told you that was your only talent?
Before I get any flames, I don't think that Ron is worthless. This is what I think he is feeling, before he runs away. I imagine this to be a few weeks before he actually abandons Harry and Hermione but place it where you'd like.