Dear Mum and Dad,
It's me, your son Ron, and it's been one heck of a interesting few days here at Hogwarts. I'm doing pretty well in my classes. Not, you know, Percy level, but mostly As on my assignments, with a few EEs. I took your advice and asked Madam Pomfrey for some potions to help me with my reading problems. Dys…something or other, Harry called it. Okay, actually Harry had to drag me along and he soon regretted it, because Madam Pomfrey promptly diagnosed him with something called ADHD and gave him some potions to deal with it. Both of our potions taste absolutely foul, but the letters are staying still on the page, so all's well that ends well, right?
I haven't heard anything from Headmaster Dumbledore since our first meeting. Harry thinks he's senile so maybe he's forgotten? But I'm not going to betray Harry for anything, not all the Knuts in the world. I'm really glad I haven't heard from him, though. Something about the man gives me the creeps. You get the feeling he can read your mind sometimes.
Hermione is the new Slytherin Seeker! She outflew Malfoy in this insanely impressive dive for Longbottom's Remembrall and Professor Sinistra was extremely impressed with her. Then she gave Hermione detention because she wasn't supposed to be on the broom, but Hermione says it was barely a punishment at all, because she just had to organize files from the Astronomy Department's archives and they were apparently very interesting. Well, interesting to Hermione (and probably to Harry, as history obsessed as he is). I'd probably not be all that interested.
Percy hasn't spoken a word to me since I've been sorted and I'm afraid he hates me now. I know I really shouldn't ask this of you, but could you talk to him? As much of a prat as he can be, he's still my brother and I don't want to lose him because of some house placement. At least Fred and George are okay with me now, especially after they said that nice stuff about me (well, nice for them) in the school paper. They even apologized to me. Sort of. Then they turned my hair green and silver, but, you know, affectionately. I can't explain it. We all know how they are.
Harry and Hermione are constantly butting heads with Malfoy. I…kind of find it funny? I know I probably shouldn't, but Malfoy is trying so hard to be scary and it's just pathetic. The three of them think they're engaged in some epic battle for control of Slytherin. I don't have the heart to tell them that's not a thing. Well, Harry and Hermione. I'd gladly tell Malfoy, but he wouldn't listen to me, so why bother? Oh, listen to me, I'm starting to sound as unfocused as Harry.
"Oh, if I have to listen to Malfoy talk one more time about how awful Muggles are, I'm going to pull my hair out!" Hermione yelled one day after yet another confrontation led the three of them to nearly come to blows, stopped only by Professor McGonagall walking around a corner and Malfoy fleeing like the coward he is.
Harry nodded vigorously. "It's like he thinks we're just animals. I mean, sure, there are some things Muggles can't do, but most of the time, we've found a workaround. They." He scowled, but I wasn't bothered. A decade of thinking you're Muggle doesn't go away overnight. "I just wish there was some way to show it to people. We've got a rich culture! We've got style."
An idea sparked in my head. Since making friends with two Muggleborns (well, technically Harry's a half-blood but he's Muggleborn in every way that matters), I've been reading up on Muggle expressions, and this one is what the Muggles call a "light-bulb moment." Mind you, I'm not sure why. Most Muggles don't understand where their expressions come from either, I've found, at least from asking Muggleborns about them, so at least I'm not behind.
(And, yeah, actually, I have been able to have chats with other Muggleborns without them looking at me like I'm going to feast on their flesh. Harry's schemes? They're working.)
"What about doing a play?" I asked. Harry looked at me like I'd lost my marbles (pot calling the kettle black, in my opinion), but Hermione looked like she thought it was a good idea. And Hermione's, like, the queen of good ideas, so that's high praise. "We could do something from that Pikewave guy?"
"Shakespeare?" Hermione asked tentatively. I nodded. I remember you taking me to that play Romeo and Juliet last year, Dad. I cried for days. It was just so unfair what happened to them. Though I'm not sure how the Muggles learned of the Draught of the Living Death.
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