Digging his Own Grave

~ by Healer Pomfrey ~

All recognizable characters belong to J. K. Rowling, and I am not earning anything by writing this story.
I am not a native speaker of English. Please excuse my mistakes.

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Don't read if you're a fan of Ronald Weasley!

Ron angrily kicked the snow out of his way, glaring at Hermione and Harry, who, unaware of his bad mood, busied themselves building an enlarged snow statue of Crookshanks. 'They invited you to help,' the annoying voice at the back of his head told him, but Ron merely growled in frustration and unobtrusively pulled his wand. 'Why do they always get along well? Hermione only fights with me. Harry gets everything he wants, all the fame, the money and whatever. Does he also have to take Hermione from me?' he thought as he pointed his wand at Harry. Last summer before Quidditch practice on a very hot summer day, Hermione had patiently taught Harry a cooling charm, and Ron still remembered the incantation. 'We'll see if it also works if the temperature is ten degrees below freezing point,' he thought grimly as he repeated the charm another time. While he walked over the grounds, looking at the other students' work, he contentedly observed how his supposed to be best friend seemed to become uncomfortable in the cold winter air. 'With a bit of luck he gets sick and will be sent home to his relatives,' he thought in anticipation as he observed his twin brothers build a statue of their Head of House and charm it to change into a cat and back.

In fact, shortly before the winter holidays of their third Hogwarts year, the news had spread that huge parts of Hogwarts had to be renovated, and only the four Houses had remained open over the holidays. The Great Hall, the hospital wing, the library and all the classrooms were being renovated, so that the remaining students had to stay in their Houses, and the only other accessible place were the grounds. They even had to take their meals in their House together with their House mates and their Head of House. Just before the beginning of the snowman contest, Ron had heard that three Hufflepuff students had been sent home with the flu, because there was no way to quarantine anyone at Hogwarts and Madam Pomfrey had been evacuated to St. Mungo's for the time being.

Inwardly groaning in exasperation, Ron listened as the Headmaster awarded the first prize to his twin brothers and the second prize to Hermione and Harry, promising to take the four Gryffindor students to Hogsmeade one day during the next week, so that they could buy sweets from their prizes, both vouchers from Honeydukes. 'Why is it always them?' Ron thought, so deeply absorbed in his jealousy that he forgot that Hermione and Harry as well as Fred and George had invited him to help.

Before the few students, who had remained at Hogwarts over the holidays, headed inside to their common rooms, they decided to meet again on the grounds for a huge snowball fight on the next day, which was Christmas Eve.

'This is fun,' Ron thought as he cast more freezing spells at Harry, who seemed unable to warm up, even in front of the fireplace. 'He is your best friend,' the voice at the back of his head reminded him every now and then, but Ron used to counter, 'Why does he always exclude me and take everything from me? Why did he have to save Ginny last school year? Why is he the one sitting on the sofa next to Hermione? Why…?' He sighed in exasperation as he shifted in his seat, glancing at the twins, who had put their heads together and were obviously discussing a prank. No one else had remained in Gryffindor over Christmas, and he felt very lonely.

"Harry, are you feeling all right? You don't look well," Hermione suddenly asked in apparent concern.

"I'm fine. I just feel so cold, and my head hurts a bit. I just hope I won't get sick, because I'd rather spend my holidays in the forbidden forest than with my relatives," Harry replied softly, letting out a few sneezes.

From the corners of his eyes, Ron angrily observed how Hermione gently placed the back of her hand on Harry's forehead and motioned for him to follow her into his dormitory. "Let me check on you. If it's only a cold, they won't send you home. Professor McGonagall would merely give you a Pepperup potion and send you to bed, nothing more," he heard the girl speak to Harry in a soothing voice.

He pondered if he should follow his friends but decided to suppress his curiosity and wait until at least Hermione would return to the common room. However, an hour later, the girl had yet to come back, and Ron decided to head to the dormitory. 'It's a reasonable time to go to bed anyway,' he mused. When he entered the dormitory, he saw that Harry seemed to be fast asleep in his bed, while Hermione sat on the edge of the bed, gently bathing his face with a cold towel.

"Ron, Harry is sick," she informed him. "He already felt a bit unwell last night, but after the snowman building contest today he seems to really have a bad cold."

"Why doesn't he go to McGonagall?" Ron asked, shrugging.

"Because he is afraid to be sent back to his relatives; he's running a low grade fever, and as long as it doesn't go up I think he'll be all right. Oh well, now that you're here, I'll go back to my own dormitory. All right? Will you check on him later on?"

"Okay," Ron grudgingly agreed, mumbling something about "fussy busybodies" as the girl left the room. 'I hope they'll send him home, so that I can have Hermione's attention for once,' he thought hatefully as he lay down in his own bed.

In the morning, Ron woke up to hushed voices coming from Harry's bed. He cracked his eyes open and saw Hermione sitting on the edge of the bed coaxing a thermometer into the boy's mouth, before she continued to speak with him in a soft voice. Finally pulling the Muggle device out, she said firmly, "Harry, thirty-eight degrees in the morning is quite high. Let me call Professor McGonagall."

"No!" Harry replied, apparently upset. "I'm fine, and at least here it's warm now. If I have to run away from the Dursleys, it'll be much colder. Now I'm going to stay in bed during breakfast, but wake me up in time for the snowball fight, please."

Shaking her head in obvious exasperation, Hermione left the dormitory, and Ron quickly scrambled out of bed, following the girl down to the common room, where his twin brothers were already eating breakfast with apparent gusto. 'Maybe I can speak with her. I won't even say anything about Crookshanks and Scabbers,' Ron mused; however, Hermione was deeply engrossed discussing Harry being under the weather and the upcoming snowball fight with the twins.

"Ronniekins, is everything all right?"

"You're so quiet as if you were planning a prank!"

Ron merely glared at the twins, who then began to cheer, "Well, let's have a fantastic snowball fight and show the other Houses that Gryffindor can win anything, not only Quidditch."

"You lost your last match because Harry fell from his broom," Ron reminded them sharply.

"Ron, you know as well as everyone else that they only lost because Harry was attacked by the Dementors," Hermione chided him, once more shaking her head as she retreated to the boys' dormitory to fetch Harry for the snowball fight.

Like the students had decided the previous day, the four Houses fought the snowball fight against each other. Ron grudgingly helped his brothers and friends until he was hit on his nose by a huge snowball and saw his four House mates laugh.

'Why is it always me?' he thought angrily and unobtrusively gathered some ice from the edge of the nearby lake. Wrapping the ice into snow, he threw the snowball at Harry, hitting the boy in the head full force.

"Ouch; that hurt," he heard Harry mumble, causing Hermione to quickly steady him.

This did not go unnoticed by the Gryffindor Head, who was watching the match together with her colleagues, and the Scottish lioness stepped in front of Harry.

'This is my chance,' Ron thought and cast another freezing charm at the other boy, causing him to shiver violently in front of the teacher.

"Mr. Potter, you're ill," McGonagall stated firmly as she took off her glove and quickly felt her little lion cub's forehead. "Follow me into the dormitory for a moment."

While the teacher headed inside together with Harry and Hermione, Professor Snape stepped in front of Ron. "Mr. Weasley," he said in his coldest baritone voice, "show me your wand."

"No. Why would I?" Ron replied stubbornly, pulling the twins' attention to him and the professor.

"Because I say so," Snape replied icily, holding out his hand.

"You better do what he says…"

"… We wouldn't want him to take House points," his brothers instructed him warningly.

Ron shot a glare at the twins and handed his wand to the professor, who quickly pointed his own wand at the wood, uttering an incantation, before he returned the wand, glaring at Ron. Just at this moment, Professor McGonagall came back in a swift speed and headed straight to the Potions Master.

"Severus, I need you in Gryffindor. Mr. Potter has a fever of nearly forty degrees."

The Slytherin Head raised an eyebrow at Ron. "Mr. Weasley, would Mr. Potter's illness have anything to do with the dozen cooling and freezing spells you cast recently?"

"You WHAT?" McGonagall asked incredulously. "I thought Mr. Potter was your best friend? Anyway, Severus and Mr. Weasley, come with me please."

Ron grudgingly followed the two teachers into his dormitory and sat on his own bed, while Hermione and her Head of House were standing next to Harry's bed and Professor Snape waved his wand at Harry.

"At first it must have been a simple cold, but due to neglect and a dozen cooling and freezing spells it has turned into pneumonia. These spells are harmless but very dangerous if cast on a sick person," the Potions Master explained, before he called his house-elf and instructed him to bring two potions, which he made Harry drink.

"Spells?" Hermione mouthed, looking questioningly at her Head of House.

However, Snape completely ignored her question and handed her a phial. "A preventive potion," he stated in an even voice, before he turned to Harry. "Mr. Potter, absolute bed rest until I tell you otherwise. Professor McGonagall and I will take turns looking after you. Mr. Weasley, you will move into the Slytherin third year boys' dormitory for the rest of the holidays, since we don't have another room to quarantine Mr. Potter."

"Why don't you just send Harry home then?" Ron asked stubbornly.

"Because I am the one who makes the decisions here, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall replied sternly. "He would be in danger with Mr. Black on the loose, and he is in dire need of magical medical treatment, which he can receive from Professor Snape."

"It also has the advantage for you that it's nearer to the Potions classroom, where you will serve detention eight hours a day until Mr. Potter is completely recovered. Follow me, Weasley," Snape growled and strode ahead.

"Professor McGonagall, may I please stay here and look after Harry?" Ron heard Hermione ask in a soft voice as he grudgingly followed the Slytherin Head out of the dormitory. 'So much about a quiet Christmas with my brothers and my friends,' he thought, wondering why everything always hit him.

The End (?)

Due to the huge resonance to this short story, I'm considering to continue it for a bit more. So maybe...

tbc... (?)