Ron the Death Eater

A Short Story in which Ron takes Crap from a Pansy of a Stupid Fanfiction Writer...

...Just as he apparently always does..

Harry stared at Ron. "What do you mean, 'I've become a Death Eater'?"

"I don't understand this at all!" Hermione cried in horror.

The trio of friends - soon to be two friends and a deadly foe - was standing in the Hogwarts Dining Hall. The room where the three had once shared many a fun and happy meal together was now deserted. Not a single person besides Harry, Hermione, or Ron was to be seen anywhere.

This might have had something to do with the fact that breakfast had ended an hour ago and the three had only managed to arrange their meeting by cutting class. I've got no idea who Dolores Umbridge is, but judging by what I've seen about her on TV Tropes, she's probably going to raise hell when she finds out.

Ron simply shrugged. "It's just what I said. I've become a Death Eater. One of the bad guys. We can never be friends again, now."

He only received blank stares from his friends.

He sighed. "Our friendship's finished."

More blank stares.

"Done."

He shrugged again. "I've gone to the dark side, you see. I was informed that they had cookies."

Hermione stared at him incredulously. "Cookies?!" she spluttered.

"That's hardly a real reason!" Harry protested.

Ron shrugged for a third time. "Well, you're right. That's not the real reason."

Harry and Hermione, intent on discovering why their friend had apparently turned on them and joined the dark side, sat patiently and waited for him to continue.

"Their cookies are pretty good, though," added Ron, who had completely misinterpreted their silence. "They're crisp and chewy, and the chocolate chips practically melt in the mouth."

Hermione slapped him across the face. "That's not what we're interested in finding out!" she cried. "We want to know why you've joined the Death Eaters!"

"Oh," said Ron, who was rubbing the hand shaped red patch that Hermione's slap had imprinted on his face. "Well, it might turn out to be a long story." Having said this, he sighed and crossed his legs. "I guess that we'll start."

Harry and Hermione leaned forward, fear and anticipation etched into their faces.

Ron shrugged again. "I didn't have a reason, really." He frowned. "All this shrugging's really starting to bug me, actually."

"You're joking," Hermione deadpanned, features slack with shock.

Harry scowled. "Could you please tell me how that's supposed to be a long story?"

Ron sighed and turned to the girl who was supposed to eventually become his wife and the mother of his children before this sorry excuse for a fanfiction rolled around. "No, Hermione, I'm not joking. I promise you that." He then turned to his erstwhile best friend. "And Harry, the reason why I said that it's going to be a long story is because -"

"RON, HOW COULD YOU DO THIS?!" Hermione screamed. "THE DEATH EATERS ARE EVIL! THEY'RE THE BAD GUYS! THEY'RE VILE! HOW COULD YOU?! IT'S INSANE! IT'S STAR STARK RAVING MAD! IT'S CRAZIER THAN THE SOMALIAN SUICIDE INCIDENT FROM THAT STUPID WEBSITE!" She paused. "If I remember correctly, it went as follows -"

"Please stop," Ron sighed, clamping a hand over her mouth. "Leave that for the Pokemon fandom. This is Harry Potter that we're talking about." Turning back to Harry, he added, "That was why I said that it might turn out to be a long story - because she might've respond to my response with a Character Filibuster or something like that. She was about to do it, too - and heaven knows that we don't need that. A proper recounting of the Somalia Incident would have possibly turned out to be longer than the rest of the fanfic."

Harry was bewildered. "Somalia?"

"The guy who got played by the Energy Ball Jellicent."

"Oh, him."

"Yeah."

Harry frowned. "I don't understand, though. Why?"

Ron shrugged. Again. "I don't know. I'm guessing that it's because Swampert and Gastrodon would completely wall Jellicent otherwise, so Somalia's opponent decided to -"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Not that. I'm asking why you would join the Death Eaters. Why would you become a Death Eater?" He nodded towards Hermione, who still had Ron's hand clamped over her mouth. "And let go of her, would you? It's rather rude."

"Alright." Ron removed his hand from Hermione's mouth. "No more about the Somalia Incident, alright? This is the wrong fandom for that."

Chastised and ashamed of herself, Hermione simply nodded and focused her gaze on the floor. (In case you were curious, the floor did not look back. Remember: Hogwarts may be magical, but it's not Soviet Russia.)

Ron nodded gratefully at her and turned back to Harry. "I'm sorry, Harry, but I don't really have any reasons for becoming a Death Eater."

"Then why even bother changing your allegiances in the first place?" Harry persisted, trying to save his former friend from what could be perceived as a fate worse than death.

Ron sighed for the umpteenth time. "Well, I just need to become an evil bastard, really. That's how it turns out in so many of the fanfictions. I become an evil bastard, then Hermione can get together with Draco Malfoy."

Harry was bewildered for the second time in about as many minutes. "What? That doesn't make any sense!"

Ron sighed. "I know, but -"

Hermione's head snapped up. "I swear to high heaven, if you sigh ONE MORE TIME -"

Ron raised his arms. "Alright, alright. I'll stop."

"Thank goodness," Hermione muttered.

Ron lowered his arms again. "As I was saying, I know that it doesn't make any sense, but that's the way how it's supposed to go. A lot of fanfiction writers either hate my guts or want Hermione to end up with Draco Malfoy, so they turn me into an evil bastard and make sure I'm either in prison or dead by the end of the story. TV Tropes calls this device 'Ron the Death Eater'. The Trope Picture depicts me with green skin, red eyes, and the Number of the Beast imprinted on my forehead."

Harry couldn't even find the right words to voice his thoughts. "That's just..."

Ron nodded again. "Ridiculous, isn't it? But there's nothing I can do about it." He stood up. "Well, that's that. I'd better go."

"Wait!" Harry jumped to his feet. He knew that he had to make a last attempt to stop his former friend from joining the dark side and eating their cookies.

Ron inclined his head. "Yes?"

"You can't become a Death Eater!" Harry burst out. "Death Eaters are wicked! Death Eaters are vile! Death Eaters are... Death Eaters are..."

He threw his arms into the air. "What the fuck is a Death Eater, anyway?!"

Ron shrugged for the last time. "How the hell should I know? Whoever wrote this cruddy excuse for a fanfic sure doesn't. He only knows what he knows from TV Tropes."

Hermione stood up as well. "TV Tropes again? We've seen and heard too much of them already."

Ron nodded. "It's true. They're everywhere."

"Like 4chan?" Harry asked.

"Exactly like 4chan, just less trolly," Ron replied.

Hermione heaved a sigh. "Wonderful, I just sighed. I swear that I've caught it from you, Ron."

Ron shrugged again, breaking the promise the author made a few lines ago about the previous instance being the last time. "Sorry."

Hermione folded her arms. "Any guesses as to how they'll strike next?"

Ron thought about it. "This is a Harry Potter fic, so their next strike will probably be in the form of Draco in Leather Pants." He turned his back to the people who had once been his friends. "Well... I guess that this is farewell..."

Hermione sniffled. "Please, Ron. Don't go. If you do, I'll cry. If I do, the feminists will be all over this fic with negative comments and the like."

Ron turned back to face her, frowning. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do... and why would the feminists be all over this fic if you cried?"

A tear rolled down her cheek. "Because girls aren't allowed to look weak anymore, according to them. Any girl who shows any sign of feminine behavior will be accused of sucking up to the male pigs who apparently rule our society."

Harry frowned. "She's right. This is a serious matter, Ron. We can't risk getting rabid feminists over here."

Ron sighed yet again. "I'm sorry, Hermione. There's nothing I can do. It's just like in a lot of the other fanfictions. I'm destined to become an evil bastard just because somebody out there in the real world doesn't like me."

"Then fight!"

Ron started, then stared at Harry with a peculiar look in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"You keep saying that there's nothing that you can do - that you're destined to become evil," Harry declared, extending his arm towards Ron, fist upturned. Having done this, he shocked the other two occupants of the room by raising his fist into the sky and flipping the heavens off. "Then screw destiny! Screw destiny, Ron. Become your own man. Be a hero to yourself and everyone else around you! Do what's right!"

There was silence for about ten seconds. Then Ron just gave a slight smile and shook his head. "Nice try, Harry. It's not going to work."

Harry frowned again as he lowered his arm. "That was an awfully quick decision. Why not? This cheesy garbage almost always works in the Saturday morning cartoons."

Ron shook his head. "It's because you can't fight fate, Harry. It might work in the cartoons, but this isn't a cartoon. It's a bloody fanfiction in which I have to become an evil bastard because the author hates my guts."

Suddenly, Ron stepped forward and pushed Harry and Hermione. Both friends fell to the ground.

"Ow. Fuck," Harry cursed.

"Ron, why'd you do that?" protested Hermione, who was having an even harder time keeping the rest of her tears in.

Ron stared down at his two erstwhile friends sadly. "I didn't want to do that. I didn't want to, but I couldn't stop myself. Can't you two see? I'm not in control here. The only things that I can control now are my head and my neck." He shook his head and reached into his pocket. "I don't want to do this, either..."

He pulled his hand back out of his pocket.

Ron was now holding a gun.

"Ron... don't do this." Harry said, staring at his friend. "You can still change your destiny."

"Ron, stop it," Hermione pleaded. "Think of what will happen to your soul if you taint it with murder." She was struggling even harder to keep the tears in now. Keep them in, girl, keep them in. The feminists are watching you, she thought to herself tearfully.

Another tear immediately escaped from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. The thought of rabid feminists can do that to a person.

Ron sighed and shook his head. He raised the gun to point it at his former friends. "I don't want to do this..."

"Ron..." Harry said warningly.

"Please, Ron," Hermione begged tearfully. "Don't do this."

Ron shook his head again. His finger closed in on the trigger. "I don't want to do this, but I have to." He sighed. "I have to do this, but I won't get to."

Harry and Hermione both blinked in confusion. "What?"

"It's because Draco will probably burst in here to save you before I shoot," Ron explained. He sighed again. "He'll probably be wearing leather pants, too. I'm also betting that his arrival will be accompanied by some signature theme music."

Hermione frowned through her tears. "What signature theme music?"

Ron sighed for the umpteenth time. "I don't know, but I'd be willing to bet hard cash it's ass and probably involves Shadow the Hedgehog." Still holding his gun on his two former friends, he checked his watch. "He should be here any moment now -"

Suddenly, the door burst open.

Actually, scratch that. The door was pulverised. Where there had once been a door, only a cloud of dust remained. A shape could be seen in the middle of the dust cloud. The shape was definitely human - and a familiar one, at that.

Ron sighed. "Yep, he's here."

From nowhere, instruments that one could find in an average heavy metal song started playing. A voice without an owner crooned,

"I see and feel the evil~

Black writing on the wall~

Unleashed a million faces~

And one by one they fall!"

Ron sighed again, but this time, nobody could really blame him. "Hardcore signature theme music that involves Shadow the Hedgehog, check."

The shape in the dust cloud raised a wand into the air. "Expelliamus!" it exclaimed. Suddenly, a bolt of energy shot out of the wand and flew towards the wand's wielder, who absorbed it. The figure, who had apparently been empowered by the power of the magic, lunged towards Ron and swiftly knocked his gun to the ground.

Harry was too irritated to be shocked. "Seriously? I know that the author hasn't exactly read the books, but even an idiot knows that that's not how the Expelliamus spell works."

"Hah!" crowed the shape, who had of course turned out to be Draco Malfoy. "You've been foiled, you foul Weasley!"

"I noticed," Ron said dryly. He nodded towards Draco's legs. "Nice leather pants."

Draco gave a winning smile. "Why, thank you." Returning to the business at hand, Draco dropped the smile and snatched up Ron's fallen gun.

"WAIT!" Harry and Hermione both scrambled back onto their feet. "Please don't shoot him!" Hermione added tearfully. Damn feminists! she thought furiously. They're going to have an absolute field day with this!

Draco ignored them as he pointed the gun at Ron's face. "Do you have any last words before I shoot you in the face?"

Ron blinked. "Wow. I thought that if I ever got shot in the face by anyone, it'd be by Bruce Willis."

Draco shook his head. "That's only if a man forces sex on a woman."

"Oh."

BANG went the gun!

SPLAT! went Ron's face.

THUMP! went his body as it hit the floor.

"NO!" screamed Harry and Hermione. Both of them rushed over to the side of their fallen friend, the former desperately fighting off tears as the latter gasped with sobs. Harry checked for a heartbeat. As anyone with even half a brain would have guessed, he found none.

Ron was dead.

As Hermione hunched over Ron's body and wept, and as Harry removed his glasses so he, too, could weep freely, Draco kneeled in front of Ron's body and gently placed the gun next to the recently deceased Weasley's cooling corpse. After standing up, he dusted off his leather pants and tipped the fedora which had materialized from nowhere to apear on his head. He turned away from the pitiful scene and walked slowly to the doorway, where the dust from the remains of the pulverised door was still settling.

He paused a few steps away from the doorway, though. Turning to the body and the two weeping friends, Draco Malfoy bid the recently deceased a final farewell.

"Goodbye... Ron the Death Eater."

EPILOGUE:

Harry Potter, after the death of his former friend, graduated from Hogwarts with full honors. He became a fully licensed magician (or something like that) and eventually married Ginny Weasley sometime after a duel to the death with Voldemort (which even the author KNOWS is canon).

Hermione Granger also graduated from Hogwarts from full honors. She, like Harry, also became a fully licensed magician (or something like that). Unlike Harry, she did NOT get married to Ginny Weasley, for obvious reasons. In fact, she never even got married. Many people find this to be an awful pity, as even fourth grade boys (let alone aspiring bachelors hoping for a chance to score) are fully capable of appreciating how hot Emma Watson is.

Draco Malfoy?

Shoot. Draco Malfoy didn't even make it out the doorway after he shot Ron. The words "Goodbye, Ron the Death Eater" had scarcely dropped from his lips before Hermione Granger seized the gun lying next to the deceased Weasley and used the last remaining bullets to riddle Malfoy's pretty face full of holes. An investigation was launched, but by the time the police arrived, the gun was gone and nobody was willing to furnish any details. Malfoy's death eventually went unpunished.

HERE ENDS THE TALE OF

RON THE DEATH EATER.

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(Oh, and if anyone was curious about Dolores Umbridge: after gaining a significant amount of weight, Umbridge became worried of becoming a butt of jokes around Hogwarts. She then used her magic to travel to the universe of Despicable Me, where she changed her name to "Miss Hattie", adopted a southern accent, and opened an orphanage, where she ruled with an iron fist, subjected many innocent children to cruel punishments, and developed a short-term crush on a supervillain who was posing as a dentist.)

FINIS