Harry Potter: The Golden Viper

0581 The Plea

Ron raced down the spiraling staircase from the Gryffindor dormitory. Never before in his life had he run at such a fast speed. The common room was still messy from the night's festivities, with empty butterbeer bottles, candy wrappers and party favors scattered randomly across the floor. But Ron leaped nimbly over the obstacles, paying no attention to the shrill, indignant shouts of the Fat Lady, who had been abruptly awakened from her sleep by his hasty exit.

He flew through the portrait hole and down the corridor, taking the stairs three at a time as a deep sense of urgency propelled him forward. Outside the castle, the chill November night pressed close and the icy tendrils of the chilly air permeated through the corridors and stairwells. The torches lining the walls had been reduced to small flames, barely able to pierce the encroaching darkness or provide any warmth.

But Ron felt none of the cold. A raging fire burned within him, spreading from his pounding heart to the tips of his fingers and toes. His skin was flushed red as he ran, whether from exertion or anticipation he couldn't say. All rational thought had left his mind, leaving only raw emotion and adrenaline to fuel his mad dash through the sleeping castle.

He couldn't exactly explain, even to himself, what was driving him to take such drastic action in the dead of night. The chances of success were slim at best - he knew that all too well. Yet an irresistible compulsion had grabbed him, he felt a desperate need to try, try one final effort, no matter how futile it might prove to be. Ron knew that if he didn't at least make the attempt, he would likely regret it for the rest of his life.

Professor Watson was probably already resting in his office, but that was okay. He would gladly sit outside the office all night if necessary, waiting for him to wake up. The thought of being caught out of bed by Filch or his cat Mrs. Norris and getting a detention barely even got registered in his mind.

As he ran, Ron clenched his fist tighter around the coin in his palm. The coin seemed be heating on its own, urging him to run faster, not to stop until he reached his destination.

Ron had walked the path from Gryffindor Tower to Professor Watson's office before, but never had it felt as long as this time. He ran with all his might, his panting even drowned out the howling wind in the corridors.

The light in Professor Watson's office was still on, which was undoubtedly good news.

Standing outside the door, Ron raised a trembling fist, ready to knock. Yet he hesitated, sudden doubt stopping his hand. He had summoned every last drop of determination to make it this far, to finally take this leap of faith and attempt to redeem himself in his own eyes if no one else's.

"I'm enough of a bloody screw-up as it is," Ron muttered under his breath, and finally knocked on the door.

"Come in, Ron," Professor Watson's gentle voice called from inside, before the door had even opened. Ron was momentarily taken aback, though he knew he shouldn't have been. For one of the most powerful Wizard in the Wizarding World, this might be nothing special. Still, Bryan's calm, soothing tone helped settle the frantic beat of Ron's heart slightly.

Bryan closed the spell-book he had been reading and stared across the room at the boy in the doorway. He saw Ron walk in with a determined look on his face. Ron looked as though he had sprinted the entire way from the dorms, his face was flushed scarlet with hair plastered to his brow with sweat.

"Have a seat," Bryan said with an inviting smile, gesturing to one of the squashy armchairs arranged before his desk. He rose and circled around the desk with his wand already in hand. "Can I get you something to drink? Pumpkin juice? A spot of warm milk, perhaps?"

"Oh, n-no, that's alright, I'm fine," Ron stammered, dropping awkwardly onto the very edge of the offered seat. In fact, his mouth was as dry as parchment, but he didn't want to put Professor Watson to any trouble.

"Milk it is, then." Bryan gave his wand a subtle flick, and a gleaming silver goblet appeared on the low table at Ron's elbow. "I find it's best not to over-stimulate the body so late in the night. A nice glass of warm milk does wonders for inducing restful sleep."

There was no mistaking the gentle yet unwavering authority in the professor's voice. Ron pursed his lips and picked up the conjured cup and took a sip of the warm milk. In his still agitated state, however, the milk was caught in his throat, sending him into a coughing fit that left him red-faced and sputtering.

"S-sorry, Professor," Ron coughed, once he had managed to get his breathing back under control. "I… *cough* I got a bit over-excited there."

"Yes, I can see that," Bryan replied with a chuckle. "I also guessed that you must have something very important you want to discuss, to come calling at such an hour."

Ron wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. Hearing Professor Watson's words, he squirmed in his seat, suddenly intensely conscious of his disheveled appearance and the mad impulse that had brought him here. He found he could no longer meet Professor Watson's friendly, sharp gaze. After a few seconds of silence, he gave a jerky nod of affirmation.

"It's...it's important to me," Ron mumbled looking at his shoes.

"Then by all means, I'm listening." Bryan settled back in his chair, giving Ron his full attention.

Ron clenched his fists on his knees with eyes darting nervously around the office.

He hadn't been to Professor Watson's office for a long time. It was as simple as ever. If it were someone like Filch who seemed to live to make the students miserable, using this kind of shabby office would be appropriate. But for Professor Watson, this great wizard whose reputation had spread throughout the world, even rivaling Dumbledore's, to still maintain this simple and plain style was unimaginable to Ron.

But Ron was well aware that no one would think bad of Professor Watson because of this. His prestige was not built on such things.

*Clang–*

Ron stretched out his clenched fist and opened it. That Merlin commemorative coin fell onto the table, spinning a few times before finally quieting down.

"This...this is the coin you gave me, Professor Watson. After the..um.. Chamber of Secrets incident last year..." Ron trailed off, the words he had practiced over and over in his head fleeing now that the moment had come.

"Yes, of course. I'm quite pleased to see you've kept it close. It's a gift to your liking, isn't it?" Bryan's gaze flashed over the coin and then moved away. He looked at Ron, maintaining his patience.

"I...I do really like it very much," Ron mumbled, unable to infuse his tone with much enthusiasm despite the truth of the words. "It's just..."

"Well, that's good then!" Bryan said warmly when Ron faltered again. "For a moment I thought perhaps you meant to return it to me."

Ron's rapidly beating heart pumped surging blood into his brain, making him feel a moment of dizziness. He clenched his fist again, his fingernails even digging into his palm. Never had he felt so ashamed, but even so, he still had to state his purpose for coming here.

"I... I do want to return this coin to you, oh... no, I mean, can I use it to make a request to you?"

"What is it?" Bryan said calmly.

"I think... if I can... I want to take your class again, Professor Watson!"

The first half of the sentence was stammered, but the final request was stated with unparalleled determination. And after expressing his appeal, Ron felt as if he had shed a thousand pounds, as the heavy pressure on his shoulders seemed to disappear by more than half.

Ron saw Professor Watson pick up the coin from the coffee table, fiddling with it between his fingertips. A sudden sense of melancholy loss arose in Ron's heart. It could be said that this coin was his favorite thing, not only because it was worth a lot of money, but also because this coin represented something...

A long silence suddenly descended. This silence was extremely torturous for Ron, like a trial where the final verdict was slow to be revealed.

"You know, Miss Granger came to me with a similar request, not so long ago," Professor Watson said at last, his eyes once again meeting Ron's.

"She...Hermione did what?!" Ron, who was nervously waiting for Professor Watson to agree or refuse, didn't expect to hear such a sentence. He sputtered subconsciously thinking he must have heard wrong.

Bryan went on, his lips quirking as he observed Ron's flabbergasted expression. "I mean, Hermione once came to me, hoping that I could readmit those students who had given up physical education classes back into the course. Of course, I'm well aware of who she was doing this for–"

Ron's face was filled with surprise. "When... when did this happen, Professor Watson?"

"Hmm–, it was on the day Fréodom was born, when Hermione came to ask me about this."

Bryan said, looking at Ron who had his mouth open in disbelief, and smiled slightly.

"Does it seem incredible, Ron? Your friend cares about you even more than you imagine–"

Hermione had specifically come to see Professor Watson to allow him to re-enter the physical education class... But why did she never say anything?

Ron fell silent. He thought he probably knew the reason.

The kettle on the fireplace rack bubbled with steam. Bryan got up and walked to the fireplace to make himself some tea. Ron turned his face, his gaze following Professor Watson. The red glow of the fire shone on his face, but it couldn't redden his pale cheeks.

Hermione had already been to see Professor Watson for him, so what was the result?

This was a question that didn't need much explanation.

Bryan walked back to the sofa at a leisurely pace, holding a teacup. He looked at the big boy sitting across from him, with unspeakable loss in his eyes, and sighed slightly.

"I think you'd best keep that, Ron," Bryan said softly after a moment, looking at the coin still resting on the desk between them. "This is a commemorative coin I gave you, Ron, but it is not a wishing coin."n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Ron swallowed hoarsely and reached out to scoop up the coin with a hand that shook. He had known this would likely be the result when he decided to come here tonight. He had sworn to himself that he would accept Professor Watson's judgment with good grace, that he wouldn't let the inevitable rejection break him, knowing full well he had no one to blame but himself.

But now, with his last desperate hope dashed, Ron found himself struggling in desolation and self-loathing. His vision blurred with unshed tears as he staggered to his feet. Even though Professor Watson hadn't asked him to leave, he himself stood up unsteadily and walked towards the door in a daze.

"Let me give you some well-intentioned reminders, Ron–" Bryan gazed at Ron until he reached the door before suddenly speaking.

Ron turned around abruptly, looking at Professor Watson with eyes full of longing, like a drowning man grasping at a straw!

"–As long as you want to improve, it's never too late at any time. And then... you must understand that seeking help from friends is not something shameful–"

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