Chapter Text
The vision ends. Ron stares dazed at the scar on Harry Potter’s 11 year old forehead as he reorients himself, confused, wrapping his head around a blurry seven year long vision.
He blinks. Scabbers moves in his dazed arms. And he shudders.
He grabs the offending creature, and squeezes it and breaks it’s little neck.
Ron glares down at it, not sorry. “That’s for Fred,” he thinks viciously.
Across from him, the 11 year old Harry Potter looks at him in horror.
Ron smiles through his teeth. He says truthfully, “It’s not what it looks like. It was transfigured.” careful to avoid the fact that it was a self-transfigured adult man. He half expects the body to revert to human form.
He holds his breath. One breath Helga Hufflepuff. Two breaths Rowena Ravenclaw. Three breaths Salazar Slytherin. Four breaths Godric gryffindor. Nothing happens.
Ron exhales relieved. He supposes that says something about the nature of Animagus transfiguration, but he does not dwell on it. He stuffs the body back in his trunk just in case.
Ron smiles nicely at Harry, “So what were we talking about again? I completely lost my train of thought.”
“errrrrrrrrr” Harry says, looking distinctly uncomfortable, “I was saying my name is Harry Potter.”
“Right,” Ron says looking Harry directly in the eyes smiling uncomfortably back, “I suppose I spaced out–I had a vision. Happens sometimes. My name’s Ron Weasley.”
Harry visibly relaxes a bit, as if Ron has explained something for him, “You said already. err I mean, you told me your name. Not the vision bit, obviously.”
Ron smiles, relaxing himself. He still was not sorry he killed that rat, but it would have been a shame if it drove Harry away.
Harry smiles at him tentatively, “So, what was your vision about?” He’s scooched forward in his seat, having never heard about visions before and interested in new magics. “How do you know when you’re having one?”
Ron grimaces, “Divination. It’s a whole thing.” He tries to twirl his wand like he learned to when he was bored in year 3 but he fumbles it, before quickly grabbing it again. “I can’t really tell you about it specifically unless I want it to be a prophesy.” He runs his forefinger over the wand worrying the forgotten wooden feel of his former and current wand. “And prophecies are all magically recorded in the hall of prophecies. They’re magically protected so that only the speaker, the intended recipient and the subjects can remove them—but with a broad enough vision that’s a lot of people–not to mention that once they’re removed literally anyone can hear them.”
He looks up to the fascinated looking Harry, “It’s a whole privacy violation nightmare.”
How does the ministry even do that? He goes on though, “A lot of prophecies are involuntary, and they end up there anyway. Those are usually the most valuable–most likely to turn out to be true prophecies. But visions, and instinctual insights can be true too.” Ron smiles, “Much harder to tell though whether or not someone is talking out of their ass when they’re in control of their own talking.”
They’re also not usually as clear cut as a seven year long vision–but Harry is all sorts of prophesied right in front of him. Fated paths aligning before he was even born. Elements, pawns and players arranging themselves right around Ron–a nascent seer himself.
“As for knowing…” Ron hesitates, “It’s not always possible to tell.” Ron is careful to avoid saying you, or any other personal pronoun. “It’s also possible to be forcibly given visions of false events.”
Ron pauses again to make sure he does not say anything stupid or specific.
“Prophecies and visions, both real and false, can be incredibly dangerous.”