All right, so I've got to clear something up before the prat gets going more. Abou--- [The voice stops and there's a strangled sound before the PCD goes crashing to the ground. Followed by an unmanly yelp as Ron jumps up from wherever he's sitting.]

[And then there's silent, deathly silence.] Oh, bloody hell--

[The slightest sounds of quiet movement as he goes to grab his wand, but he's too horrified and transfixed on whatever objects got his attention. It's after a moment a muttered word can be heard and... Oh. Was that a slight explosion? I'd say it was. He seems to think he's won, too, because there's a sigh of relief.]

Good ridd-- [The sound of his voice is disrupted by a sudden intake.] You've got to be kidding me.


[No, there's no kidding. Because next thing that happens has a long stretch of silence before him scrambling to his feet. Grabbing the PCD and slamming  the door. Just what is he up to? ] --I am never sleeping in that room again.

[[OOC: And so Ron was faced with a spider! And he thought he'd tried and destroy it without getting close... It survived and, in doing so, disturbed the spider's nesting egg... You can figure out what happened from there. ]]

[The feed is abruptly cut on by curious paws! Hestia proceeds to sniff the camera a moment before bonding away, jumping onto Ron’s bed with a mewl. The red head in question was currently shoving a shirt over his head, so you get a nice view of his back and the scars that litter it for a few moments before he speaks up.]
 
What’s it now? Going to have to hush up soon enough, you know.
 
[Shirt now jammed down onto his body, he glances at that demon kitten before looking around.] Where’s it gone off to now—[Then he spots the PCD! And in a few strides he reaches it, scowling at the object quick enough.] Oh, bugger. Don’t tell me you’ve gone and turned it on—No wonder I went and picked you.
 
[Shaking his head, Ron plopped back on the bed (Hestia curling up beside him can be seen momentarily). At least he appeared relatively fine after the aftermath of Riddle—a few fresh cuts, his injured arm lobbed open and of course torture curses, but overall aside from a wince he seems alright.] Least it seems like everyone will stop going completely mental soon enough. Always knew it was a matter of time. Especially him. [It's said with a dark undertone before he tries to move on. Alas, it takes several moments for his face to relax even after he starts speaking] The break from it was good, feel mad enough without adding onto it.
 
[Clearing his throat.] Anyway, anyone got a few loose chess pieces? Bout time I fix my board up proper. Right, and the rest of the building should be cleared off so if anyone wants a level—[And then he stops at an after thought, and really only Nathan will get this.] Oy, you sodding twat. Got a day, don’t forget. ‘Less you want to be left out.--Erm. 

How often is it people disappear, anyway? Loads seem to have left since I got here. Bit weird taking us and letting us go all that easily.
 
…Reckon that’s it. Less someone wants to tell me how they get the mickey out of ruining perfectly good punch. Just sick, if you ask me.
 

[Guess who's had a busy day of Morgana guilt tripping him into getting him to ask a girl to a dance? And then went off to hunt with Harry just to be chased, fall in a trap and get his right arm seriously busted up? Well, if you thought it was this kid who's sneaking his way back into the Burrow 2.0 with his arm mostly-sort of fixed up (couldn't go back without doing something, right)... You'd be right.]

[But he's definitely sneaking since he doesn't want to be caught by certain bushy haired girls, unfortunately for him when he gets to his room he throws the PCD on the bedside table it comes on. So the listener comes into a nice hiss of pain before he starts muttering curses. At least his "brush with death" will give him courage (again, damn you, Morgana).]

Bleeding fuck-- [Sounds of shuffling while he moves to sit.] Never again. Next time we go and do that it'd better not be in some blasted event week. 

[Groaning, he reaches for the PCD and... frowns.] Brilliant. Just how much did you go and hear? [Snort.]

Don't suppose the lot of you are getting tired of these buggers? This week'd better end soon. 

[Awkward turtle as he tries to figure out something substantial to say.] Anyway, bout the Wastes and such. Anyone see things that might be from home? Hagrid's found a Hippogriff and there's the squid... Few boggarts about, wondering if it was common or something.


[Private | Hermione ]

Erm. You've been paying attention to what's being said lately, right?

[Private | Morgana]

Hope you're proud of yourself.

Er, right. There’s a building I’ve been fixing up the last while—[He clears his throat]—one of the taller ones about, suppose. Suki’s been helping a bit now and, er, seems like the floors are stable enough for this… We’ve claimed a few, but if anyone wants the others—let me know, yeah? Thought it might be a good idea if anyone wanted to take ‘em for when new blokes show up, seeing as I’ve only heard of two places.
 
[The listener can’t see it, but he shrugs.]  Could be used for loads of stuff, I reckon, but that’s it there.
 
[Ron is quite the awkward turtle lately, well, more so than normal. He’s got a lot of things on his mind.] Anyway… Reckon now’s a good time for one of those games someone suggested a few weeks ago, right? Before the weather gets us more snow, I mean. ‘Though, could be interesting—that football or baseball thing in the snow. [Yes, he actually paid attention. But he clears his throat once more; really, he’s just keeping his thoughts from other places.]
 
…Yeah, if you’re interested just say. Not been around the house for a bit, but these things can be bloody useful.
 
[Filtered to Raven]
 
…Mind if I get off patrol early a bit the next while? Something I want to do.

[Filtered to fellow Gryffindors. ;u;]

[X,Y] Top floor. It's sorta like Gryffindor Tower, only a bit though. Mostly in colour. But if you lot want to use it you can. Good spot to think.  

( short bit of fred deathCollapse )


[It was a blur, but the hallucination of how his brother died gave him more than enough information. Jar clenched, Ron felt the moisture sting his eyes before he slammed on the PCD in a furious motion. First it’s on voice and the broken voice comes through.]

Can’t let us be, can they? If I ever get my hands on ‘em—[He hissed, stopping momentarily to stop his voice from cracking further.
And there’s a fumble for a moment but the PCD comes onto video to show one simple thing to those who could read it:]

Fred Weasley
May 2, 1998

[The under text read about a lively brother and a defender of Hogwarts, but Ron’s quiet and when he speaks his voice is hollow.]

If you know anything about this Harry you better start speaking. This better be some sick joke of this bloody place.

[But his voice finally cracked completely. At least no one… no one could see the tears he forced back, because even if it wasn’t real the vision had been very much so.] This place really does get more damned impossible to deal with by the day.

I-I’ll be out here a bit longer. You lot should stay in seeing as—well, that bit’s obvious. Some of us on the police force is out about to help, suppose.

[And he cuts off the feed on that, note, too hollow to speak anymore. He just had to know from Harry and couldn’t be arsed to private the message.]

If you're wanting to eat them without drying and sorts, s'best to put the apples some place cold. They're already ripe, but they go bad quicker if you leave them out in the open bit more than half if warm. 

[He cleared his throat.] And save the seeds, course. [Another clearing of his throat.]

Er.  It's maddening sitting about without much to do. 'Specially with winter coming and all. It's been ages since I've played a good game of Quidditch, er, not that we can here. Suppose what I'm getting at is there's got to be a few games to play, yeah? Not card games and the sort, but sports.

Point is-- there any sort to play around here? And does anyone want to, course. I'll go mad if I keep at it like this. Reckon we could all use a bit of sport, too.

Guess that means whoever was saying that before was right. Least they are predictable enough we can figure that much out, suppose we should be grateful for that much.

Doesn't seem like much has changed. 

Anyway, reckon I should apologize for how I've been. Dunno know what got over me to be that much of a prat. Must've been the weather since I feel right cheerful about now.

Erm. Well, anyway, anyone need help? Found there's a bit too much time on my hands, could do with more to and helping around seems to do a spot of  good there. I'm decent at fixing things up and can cook something if you don't mind it a bit burnt.


...Yeah, think that's it. Oh. I'd never introduced myself properly before, did I? I'm Ron, Ronald Weasley. Feel free to call me Ron if you want... And keep my offer in mind, alright? Or if you think of something I could do a bit of that'd be brilliant too.