by Healer Pomfrey
All recognizable characters belong to J. K. Rowling, and I am not earning anything by writing this story.
I am not a native speaker of English. Please excuse my mistakes.
From his spot at the far end of the garden, Ronald Weasley stared in shock at the Burrow, shivering violently in the cold night air. The house, where all of his siblings and parents were supposed to be, was completely engulfed in flames. 'Did I go out without extinguishing the torches?' he wondered as he hurried back to the house. He could see several of his brothers stand in front of the open windows, apparently unable to get out of the house. Just when he reached the house, which was quickly burning down to the ground, he could hear a strange sound coming from above the ruin. Slowly raising his face upwards, he saw the image of a green snake in the sky, which was moving its ugly body. 'The Dark Mark,' he realised in horror.
"...Ronniekins," Fred's and George's voices penetrated his ears, but if he looked around, he was completely alone.
'They were at the window a few minutes ago. They didn't have a chance to survive that,' Ron thought, horrified, as he carefully approached the house, from which still burning parts were falling down. 'They're all dead. My whole family. Everyone was inside the house. I shouldn't have been angry at the twins for playing their prank on me; I should have asked everyone to accompany me for a walk,' he thought in devastation. 'Now I'm alone like Harry.'
He jerked away vehemently as he felt something ice-cool touch his head. "I'm not a Death Eater," he mumbled frightfully.
Suddenly, he sensed the heat of the flames engulf his body and stared at the ruin in shock when the ghosts of his twin brothers appeared, flying on their broomsticks. The silverish couple began to speak to him in the twins' usual singsong.
"Ron, you're a looser..."
"... always being jealous of Harry."
Too stunned to give his brothers an adequate reply, Ron looked at the ghosts of his other brothers, who were following the twins.
"At least you could have made some effort to get into the Quidditch team," Charlie said, reproachfully.
"I am ashamed to have you as my brother. You are not worth being a Gryffindor," Percy informed him, but Ron decided to ignore him.
Finally, his parents appeared as well. "Everything is your fault. It's only because of you that I lost my baby girl," his mother screeched, shooting him a hateful glare.
Before Ron could even ask what he had done, his father explained, "They only attacked and killed us because you're friends with Harry Potter."
'Harry,' Ron thought with disgust as he remembered the previous day. After Harry had rescued him out of the water in the second task of the Trimagical Tournament, everyone had solely made a fuss about Harry, although he, Ron, had spent much more time in the water, unwillingly at that.
"It's true. You should have died in her place," Bill, the last ghost hissed, breathing a splash of ice into his face.
"Ginny!" Ron wanted to shout, absolutely terrified, but it only came out as a whisper. However, his sister's ghost did not show up. "Ginny, I'm so sorry. Please come to me," Ron pleaded, anxiously searching the ruin for his last family member.
Suddenly, Ginny's voice penetrated his ears like from far away. "Ron, what's wrong?"
"Ginny, where are you?" Ron whispered, letting his eyes wander around the ruin. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to kill you."
"I'm right here, Ron. Open your eyes," Ginny said in a soft voice.
Just when he felt as if his body was going to burst from the heat of the flames, he once again felt an icy touch to his face.
"He must be delirious," he heard a second voice, which he recognised as Hermione's.
"Mr. Weasley!" Suddenly, he heard Professor McGonagall speak to him, before she cast a spell. "Enervate."
Ron slowly cracked his eyes open, noticing in relief that the ruin was gone and he found himself in the fourth year boys' dormitory in Gryffindor. All of his dorm mates, Hermione, Ginny and his Head of House were gathered around his bed, looking at him in apparent concern.
"Ginny," he whispered, realising that his chest and throat hurt badly. "You're not dead."
"Mr. Weasley, you were delirious," Professor McGonagall explained. "You are very ill. I'm going to take you to Madam Pomfrey."
Before Ron knew what happened, the professor magically transferred him onto a stretcher and made him float in front of her to the hospital wing; however, he felt too miserable to even care. Only one thought occupied his foggy mind. 'I still have my family. Nothing happened to them. It was only a nightmare.'
He was brought back to reality, when Madam Pomfrey told him, "Mr. Weasley, you have caught pneumonia. I can send you home if you wish."
"No," Ron whispered, the ghosts' words still ringing in his ears. "My mother wouldn't want me at home."
He did not notice the strange look that the Mediwitch cast him as she spelled a potion into his system. However, when he woke up from a potions induced sleep, he found himself lying on the sofa that had been transfigured into a comfortable bed in the living room of the Burrow. His mother was sitting on the edge of his bed, and most of his siblings were gathered around the table, watching Bill and Percy play Wizard's Chess.
"Professor McGonagall allowed your brothers to come home over the weekend," Mrs. Weasley explained in a soft voice.
'They all came home to keep me company?' Ron thought in amazement. He opened his mouth to tell everyone how glad he was that they were all right; however, all that came out of his mouth were colourful bubbles. 'Oh no, the twins,' Ron thought in exasperation. 'Still I can be glad to have such a loving, caring family. That's so much more worth than all the wealth and fame Harry has,' he mused as he slowly drifted back to sleep, unaware that the twins were already planning their next prank for him.
As most of you know, I really don't like Ron Weasley, because I think that he is a jealous, ill-mannered, pampered brat. However, due to multiple requests, I decided to write this story. I hope it makes up a bit for my many stories, in which he is displayed as I usually see him...