Casting spells was always a challenge for Ron Weasley, who wasn't exactly the quickest learner. He picked things up slower than others, grasped concepts later than most, but he had one thing going for him: once he got the hang of a spell, his magic hit harder than anyone's.
And not just a little harder—way harder!
Seriously, out of all the students at Hogwarts, who else could cast a Levitation Charm and knock out a mountain troll with a single whack of a wooden club? That's a 4X danger-level magical creature, right up there with Hippogriffs, Occamies, Thestrals, and Thunderbirds!
Who else could pull that off?
But still…
People always mocked or ignored his early struggles, then conveniently overlooked his later triumphs.
He was a true Gryffindor!
A real warrior!
Professor Gilderoy Lockhart himself had said so!
Ron didn't want to let anyone down, but disappointing Professor Lockhart? That was unthinkable. Sure, he didn't want to disappoint his parents either, but honestly, they'd probably already given up on him.
So Lockhart's trust and belief in him? That was pure gold to Ron.
He'd never thought so hard about what truly made him happy. Not when he watched George and Fred goofing around with their Patronuses at the Duelling Club, green with envy. Not even when Hermione smugly mastered spells before him, leaving him feeling like a failure. But now? He was serious.
Professor Lockhart had told him, "You can open your heart to feel the beauty of life. Or you can shut out the world and still find that beauty within. Feeling joy is a natural instinct—you just need to find your place and embrace it in your own way. It's simple."
Yeah, simple.
That's what Ron told himself.
So he kept at it until nightfall, his wand tip sputtering misty silver light that was barely visible.
But he didn't feel defeated.
He just told himself it wasn't working yet. He hadn't failed—he just hadn't succeeded.
If the spell didn't work, he'd keep trying until it did.
This was a new kind of determination for him, pushing him to keep going without a hint of giving up.
He started to think—really think—something he rarely did deeply. His thoughts usually felt like jokes compared to his brilliant brothers, so he'd always avoided it.
But now he was thinking, replaying Lockhart's gentle teachings, trying every possible approach.
And in the end, he made peace with his own ordinariness.
Yes, admitting he was average was painful, especially for a kid. But Lockhart had said it: you need a clear understanding of yourself.
So what next?
He decided to stop chasing the "most" joyful or "most" perfect memory.
That single choice made everything feel… wider, freer.
The idea of "most" was tough for someone like him—it meant comparing, measuring. But just thinking of something happy? He had loads of those.
His mind went straight to his pet, Scabbers.
No one understood how much Scabbers meant to him. Sure, he was an old, scruffy rat, but so what?
Could anyone really believe a lonely kid wouldn't love his companion just because it wasn't cute?
No one got it. No one understood how Scabbers had been there through countless lonely days and nights. No one cared about Ron, just like no one cared about his unwanted pet. But the bond between them? That was something special.
As he recalled those moments, a bright smile spread across his face.
He remembered the summer he got Scabbers. His village had thrown a big party, and all the kids came out to play.
The adults fawned over Percy, the kids laughed at George and Fred's antics or snuck glances at Ron's super-cool older brothers—especially Bill, with his long ponytail and awesome fang earring.
And the girls? They all wanted to hang out with pretty little Ginny.
But Ron? He was always in someone's shadow, unnoticed, uncared for. Except by Scabbers, who'd crawl onto his knee, place a tiny paw on his hand, and give him warmth.
…
Ron didn't notice the rustling in the bushes behind him, moving out of sync with the wind-blown grass.
That was Peter Pettigrew.
Scared out of his wits.
No one had noticed, but when Ron brought him here, about to be pulled into Lockhart's bizarre magical illusion, Peter had been beside himself with panic.
Luckily, Lockhart had explained how to escape the illusion.
The moment everyone else was sucked in, Peter fought tooth and nail against the so-called "adventure summons" and actually broke free.
Run!
He'd already risked exposure!
He couldn't stay—what if he was found out?
His instincts were sharp; he'd always been quick to sense danger.
But he couldn't escape. The moment he leaped from Ron's pocket, a Snallygaster started chasing him, desperate to crack open his rat skull and slurp his brains.
Merlin's beard, the rat was done for!
With no other choice, he transformed back into a human.
How many years had it been since he'd taken human form? So long he could barely remember.
He fought the creature with magic. Sure, he was the weakest of the Marauders, but that didn't mean he was helpless. He could handle a Snallygaster.
Then he got surrounded.
The Boggart was easy enough—he knew a Riddikulus spell would do the trick. But the other two dark creatures? They were a nightmare.
Worse still…
He realized he couldn't escape the Crabbe family's Puffskein breeding farm. There was no way out!
He ran for his life, dodging the monsters, until he tripped, gave up, and cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself, lying on the ground, eyes shut, waiting for death.
But the creatures just… left.
As if they hadn't seen him.
That simple?
He could hardly believe a sixth-year Disillusionment Charm had saved him. (Truth be told, Lockhart had let him off.)
Ha!
He'd survived by sheer luck, planning to slip away with the group later and then ditch the Weasleys for good.
It pained him. The Weasleys were good people, always kind to him.
For someone like him, with nowhere to go, no purpose in life, being a carefree pet wasn't half bad.
Especially with Ron, who genuinely cared for him.
What a shame.
In his heart, he bid Ron a quiet farewell.
Then, after who-knows-how-long, he felt a powerful force ripple through the breeding farm, terrifyingly strong, like facing Lockhart's dark creature pets.
Oh, right—when Ron woke up and talked to Lockhart, Peter realized it really was a dark magical creature.
This thing was so terrifying it had wrecked the Crabbe family's Puffskein farm for decades, leaving them helpless.
A massive cloak billowed, blotting out the sky, and an uneasy feeling welled up in Peter's heart.
If he weren't so perceptive, he might've mistaken it for a fleeting mood swing.
As he grappled with the uncertainty of life after leaving the Weasleys, a wave of loneliness consumed him, gnawing at his soul.
He feared loneliness. His whole life, he'd lived in others' shadows, ignored, uncared for, unsure why he even existed.
First with the Potters and their friends, then with the Weasleys—he'd found a sense of belonging, a place to exist. It was nice.
Watching Ron from afar, the loneliness grew, devouring his spirit. He longed to return to Ron's side.
But he told himself to stay put. Moving could mean death at the claws of Lockhart's monsters.
He'd wait for Ron to pass by.
And so he waited, and waited, until he saw Ron casting a spell at the dark creature in the sky.
Clumsy, as always.
Poor Ron, he thought. Ordinary—or even a bit dim—folks like us can't learn from geniuses like Lockhart. His methods won't work for you.
The Patronus Charm wasn't about chasing "beauty." It was about protecting your soul. Simple. Want it badly enough, and it'd come.
Dull people needed dull methods, not all that fancy nonsense.
But Peter couldn't show himself or speak to Ron. It'd terrify the kid, maybe make him abandon Peter—or worse, expose him.
Helplessly, Peter watched Ron's back, silently begging him to stop trying. It wasn't going to work. Why not wander around instead? Weren't you always hungry? One fish isn't enough—go pick some mushrooms in the woods!
Then he froze.
His Disillusionment Charm faded without him noticing, and he just lay there, gaping at Ron and his wand.
"*Expecto Patronum!*"
A burst of magical light flared, silvery mist swirling upward as a radiant silver rat charged toward the cloaked creature in the sky.
That's…
Me?
Peter stared, stunned, a lump in his throat.
All this time, you were the one caring for me, giving everything. How is that your happiness?
You silly kid…
His eyes welled up. He pressed his lips together, recast the Disillusionment Charm, and joined Ron in gazing at the silver rat racing through the sky.
He knew it wasn't really him. It was Ron's courage.
How wonderful.
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