Ron Weasley Character Analysis

In spite of the feeling of dread that had just swept through him, his spirits could not help but lift at the sight of it. Ron was in there…and so was Mrs. Weasley, who could cook better than anyone he knew…

Harry did not really listen. A warmth was spreading through him…He knew that Ron and Hermione were more shocked than they were letting on, but the mere fact that they were still there on either side of him, speaking bracing words of comfort, not shrinking from him as though he were contaminated or dangerous, was worth more than he could ever tell them.

“Anyone we know dead?” asked Ron in a determinedly casual voice; he posed the same question every time Hermione opened her paper.

He and Cho were too embarrassed to look at each other, let alone talk to each other; what if Ron and Hermione started going out together, then split up? Could their friendship survive it?...And then, what if they didn’t split up? What if they became like Bill and Fleur, and it became excruciatingly embarrassing to be in their presence, so that he was shut out for good?

It was as though something large and scaly erupted into life in Harry’s stomach, clawing at his insides: hot blood seemed to flood his brain, so that all thought was extinguished, replaced by a savage urge to jinx Dean into a jelly. Wresting with this sudden madness, he heard Ron’s voice as though from a great distance away.

But unbidden into his mind came an image of that same deserted corridor with himself kissing Ginny instead…the monster in his chest purred…but then he saw Ron ripping open the tapestry curtain and drawing his wand on Harry, shouting things like “betrayal of trust”… “supposed to be my friend”…

“Watch it,” he said, pointing warningly at Harry and Ginny. “Just because I’ve given my permission doesn’t mean I can’t withdraw it – “

“’Your permission,’” scoffed Ginny. “Since when did you give me permission to do anything?”

…In spite of everything, in spite of the dark and twisting path he saw stretching ahead for himself, in spite of the final meeting with Voldemort he knew must come, whether in a month, in a year, or in ten, he felt his heart lift at the thought that there was still one last golden day of peace left to enjoy with Ron and Hermione.

In spite of the feeling of dread that had just swept through him, his spirits could not help but lift at the sight of it. Ron was in there…and so was Mrs. Weasley, who could cook better than anyone he knew…

Harry did not really listen. A warmth was spreading through him…He knew that Ron and Hermione were more shocked than they were letting on, but the mere fact that they were still there on either side of him, speaking bracing words of comfort, not shrinking from him as though he were contaminated or dangerous, was worth more than he could ever tell them.

“Anyone we know dead?” asked Ron in a determinedly casual voice; he posed the same question every time Hermione opened her paper.

He and Cho were too embarrassed to look at each other, let alone talk to each other; what if Ron and Hermione started going out together, then split up? Could their friendship survive it?...And then, what if they didn’t split up? What if they became like Bill and Fleur, and it became excruciatingly embarrassing to be in their presence, so that he was shut out for good?

It was as though something large and scaly erupted into life in Harry’s stomach, clawing at his insides: hot blood seemed to flood his brain, so that all thought was extinguished, replaced by a savage urge to jinx Dean into a jelly. Wresting with this sudden madness, he heard Ron’s voice as though from a great distance away.

But unbidden into his mind came an image of that same deserted corridor with himself kissing Ginny instead…the monster in his chest purred…but then he saw Ron ripping open the tapestry curtain and drawing his wand on Harry, shouting things like “betrayal of trust”… “supposed to be my friend”…

“Watch it,” he said, pointing warningly at Harry and Ginny. “Just because I’ve given my permission doesn’t mean I can’t withdraw it – “

“’Your permission,’” scoffed Ginny. “Since when did you give me permission to do anything?”

…In spite of everything, in spite of the dark and twisting path he saw stretching ahead for himself, in spite of the final meeting with Voldemort he knew must come, whether in a month, in a year, or in ten, he felt his heart lift at the thought that there was still one last golden day of peace left to enjoy with Ron and Hermione.