I know I really shouldn't be starting another story, especially a multi chapter one, but I just couldn't resist! Hopefully, I won't lose interest like I tend to with my other multi chapters. If there are any errors, or any criticism you can give, just let me know.

The day is just beginning, sun streaking across the sky and staining the clouds in brilliant shades of pink and orange and red, when the letter arrives. It's delivered right into the twisting house, placed on top of the pile of other mail, and there it sits patiently as the occupants of the house rise and stumble down the stairs in uneven steps and yawns.

In the kitchen, breakfast is being served and the noise is building up surely and steadily. As the rest of the family packs inside, space becomes a limited resource, and shouting is the only way to be heard. There are brief tussles happening all around the room, and eventually someone is shoved out of the kitchen to get the mail.

The boy, rather tall for his age, scowls and drags his feet to the pile where the owl deposited the mail. He grabs the whole pile, letting out a silent sigh when a couple tumble to the ground. He bends down, shoving them into his arms, until finally, he reaches the last one.

The instance he sees the crest, his heart seizes, and his breath stops short. Fingers trembling, he brushes his hand over rough paper, and then quickly flips it over.

He moves his hand across the green ink centered exactly in the middle on the envelope, mouthing the words to himself, wanting to feel the shape of them.

There's no mistake.

'Mr. R. Weasley

The Attic

Ottery St. Catchpole

Devon'

His letter from Hogwarts is finally here.

Ron picks up the letter gingerly, cradling it tightly in his hands and he retreats back into the kitchen. The trembling has spread down his hands, to his arms and his body, and he's not sure if it's from fear or excitement, or a mix of the two. Whatever it is, he doesn't care, because no one expected him to get the letter.

But it's here, and all he knows is that he, a mute, a cripple, a freak, is being given the chance to go to Hogwarts, and he isn't going to give it up for the world.

Dumping the other mail on some spare counter space, he tucks the letter in his pocket for further inspection later.

-X-

It's after breakfast, and Ron hovers at the edge of the kitchen door nervously. Taking a single deep breath, he steps in, and his mum turns at the sound of footsteps.

"Hello dear," she smiles at him. "Did you need something?"

He draws the letter out of his pocket, slightly worn already from the many times he opened and closed it. She takes the letter from him, and glances over it once, before turning to check the name.

There's no mistake. It's his name, his right. He knows, having checked it over and over again in the past couple hours, just to make sure it's not a dream, or some far off fantasy.

Finally, his mum folds the letter back to its original position, then gives him a look. He recognizes that look. Ron can tell he's about to get a long winded speech, and his dread increased when she shouts for his dad to get in the kitchen. But he sets his face determinedly. This is the one thing he absolutely won't back down on.

There's a faint clanging sound and a shout, before his dad absently peers into the kitchen. Ron watches as he observes the scene, the two of them sitting stiffly on the chairs, facing each other.

Hesitantly, he takes the seat next to his mum, and Ron watches as she passes him the Hogwarts letter. His dad takes it, glancing at it briefly before placing it on the table, and then Molly starts talking.

"Ronald," she starts.

Uh oh, he thinks, dread pooling in his stomach. She's used his full name already.

"You won't be attending Hogwarts."

And that's that. Her tone is final, her stare firm and unyielding. Ron tenses, curls into himself, arms clenched tight on his lap, and the red creeps up his neck, his ears. He slowly, arms trembling, reaches into his pocket and takes out his notebook and pen.

They're both muggle things, because ink would spill all over his pants and parchment doesn't bend right and is thick and scratchy and too big.

But before he can use them, his dad speaks up, slow and hesitant.

"Molly, dear," he says, watching her. "Maybe we should talk about this."

She whirls on him, eyes spitting fire, and Ron takes it as his cue to leave. He grabs his stuff, stuffing it back where it belongs, and then scrambles out of there. He's half way up the stairs when he hears his mum's raised voice lower to sobs.

I'll run away to Hogwarts on my own, he thinks to himself, pushing down that little ball of guilt that sits in his stomach. I'll do it. I really will.

He enters his room, loudly, as if to make up for his lack of noise. If he listens closely, he can hear explosions sounding right below him in the twin's room, and he knows Percy is probably in his room studying or something. He could go down, join his siblings in their rooms, or in the garden, but he doesn't feel like seeing them today.

Instead, he settles against the bed, and grabs his pen again, idly tapping it up and down. He's waiting.

The day stretches out, like those in summer tend to, and nothing is resolved.