"...Put this here, that one there... this spot is nice."
September 11, 1993, Saturday.
In the dim Gryffindor boys' dormitory.
... Four o'clock in the morning.
In the darkness, a shadowy figure was hunched over in the corner of the room, busily working at something, as the light and shadows softly flickered on the red-gold curtains by the bed.
"Squeak..."
By Ron's bed, a grey rat sprawled out suddenly opened its eyes for no apparent reason. Its unfocused pair of beady black eyes seem somewhat dazed, staring at the wavering shadow on the curtains above. Human-like thought processes quickly returned, and the next moment, looking at the silhouette beyond the curtains, it suddenly screamed loudly.
"Squeak squeak squeak!"
Scabbers' shriek was piercingly loud, but that was to a rat; to Ron, that sound seemed more like an auditory hallucination happening right beside his ear, like a needle lightly pricked his earlobe, the boy somewhat dazed and raised a hand to scratch—
"Mmm..."
Feeling the strange sensation disappear, Ron sighed in relief, not even bothering to open his eyes, flipped over intending to continue sleeping. But without flipping over, it was fine, just when the boy did flip over, his right hand also came over onto the pillow, perfectly pressing a big grey rat that had just reacted under his palm.
Scabbers: "?"
Hit heavily on the stomach, the rat almost spat out an old mouthful of blood in shock, using all its strength to flip over its body, raised a paw to try to push Ron's hand, but the strength of a boy still in the development of adolescence is not something a chronically malnourished rat can contend with. Watching the silhouette outside the curtains that seemed to plan to draw closer, a human-like hopelessness and sorrow appeared in Scabbers' eyes—
Tears slipped down its whiskers.
"..."
"...Squeak squeak!"
No! Absolutely cannot sit and wait for death!
Summoning strength from who knows where, Scabbers laboriously raised its upper body, then bit down forcefully on Ron's unguarded tiger mouth. The scent of blood instantly cleared up the rat's brain which had been somewhat dazed after the beating—simultaneously, Ron awoke.
"Ow—"
The boy's pig-slaughtering howl echoed through the entire dormitory, and the next moment, Ron's curtains were lifted by someone, and there stood Neville fully dressed, staring anxiously at Ron who had sat up clutching his right hand. But then his gaze was drawn to a grey shadow disappearing at the bedside—
"What's wrong?"
With the shadow vanished, Neville, though puzzled, didn't investigate further, instead refocused on Ron, "What's wrong with you?" he asked again.
"I... seem to have been bitten?"
Ron released his grip, looked at his bleeding tiger mouth, blinked somewhat blankly—then immediately raised his head, gazing at Neville oddly. The boy had already noticed Neville's fully armed outfit, mouth moving for words, "What, what are you doing?"
Saying that, he instinctively glanced at the room's only window, dim daylight peeking through the curtain gap.
It seems the sky hasn't brightened yet?
"I, I, I can't sleep..."
Neville's cheeks instantly flushed red, as the other three occupants of the room were also awakened by Ron's howl, now simultaneously lifting their bed curtains, eyes drawn to Ron's bedside—
"But the selection is scheduled for after dinner—"
Harry sighed, a melancholic voice coming from behind the bed curtains, having already lain back down, viewing or not made no difference to him, severe myopia made anyone beyond three meters indistinguishable.
"Yes, there's still a whole... uh, thirteen and a half hours until then."
Dean's voice sounded as well, he had a Muggle electronic wristwatch, one of few Muggle electronic products that still worked within Hogwarts.
"It's just..."
Neville lowered his head, instinctively glancing at the bulging pockets full on him, wanting to say more but only whimpered twice in the end, not arguing further.
"Well, Ron, are you alright?"
Seeing the atmosphere grow cold, Harry refocused on the source of this "chaos"—clearly having heard Ron's scream, as he asked, Ron had indeed sat up and was now rapidly lifting his pillow and bedcover, searching the gaps for something.
"Nothing really, I think Scabbers bit me just now?"
A rat bite mark is easy to identify, with the weak light Ron almost instantly guessed the culprit behind the wound on his hand, originally intending to find Scabbers, but after searching for ages, still could find nothing—
"Poor Scabbers, to actually bite me, maybe it truly was scared mad by Hermione's cat..."
Almost flipping his bed upside down in search, Ron took a breath, furrowed his brows, as the anger from waking up had vanished without a trace, inexplicably his voice carried a hint of empathy now.
"...Perhaps."
Listening to Ron's judgment, Harry nodded noncommittally, then continued, "So now what, are you planning to look for it? I can go with you."
"Yes, I want to find it, at least before that cursed cat."
Ron gritted his teeth, gathering energy to pull himself out of the covers, early autumn mornings carrying a chill, the sudden drop in temperature made him shiver instinctively—"Forget it, maybe I'll search after waking up—I hope it's staying with Trevor."