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The Gryffindor common room was quiet in the sort of way that only happened after midnight.
The fire had burned low, leaving the room washed in dim amber light and long shadows. Chairs sat crooked where students had abandoned them earlier, and someone had forgotten a half-finished game of wizard chess on a side table.
Ron Weasley sat curled into the corner of the sofa, arms wrapped around himself.
He hadn’t meant to come down here.
But sleep had turned traitor.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw them again. Eight legs. Dozens of them. The clicking. The whispering voices. The way the forest had seemed to breathe around them.
Ron rubbed his hands over his face.
Spiders.
He swallowed hard and stared into the fire.
A floorboard creaked on the staircase.
Ron froze.
Two figures appeared a moment later, identical silhouettes in the dim light.
Fred and George Weasley paused halfway down the stairs, hair sticking up in matching red disasters.
“Blimey,” George muttered quietly. “Thought I heard someone.”
Fred squinted toward the sofa.
“Either Ron’s sleepwalking,” he said, “or the sofa’s grown a set of freckles.”
Ron groaned. “Go away.”
The twins exchanged a glance.
Usually that tone would have triggered at least three jokes and possibly a dramatic fainting spell.
Tonight, though, neither of them laughed.
They crossed the room and dropped into the armchairs opposite him.
Ron avoided their eyes.
“What are you doing down here?” Fred asked, voice softer than usual.
“Nothing.”
George leaned back, studying him.
“Nothing,” he repeated. “Right. Because people normally sit in the dark at two in the morning looking like they’ve just seen a basilisk.”
Ron flinched.
The twins noticed.
Another glance passed between them.
“Oh,” Fred said quietly.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
The fire popped softly.
George rubbed the back of his neck. “Nightmare?”
Ron’s shoulders tightened.
“Maybe.”
Fred tilted his head. “Spiders?”
Ron groaned again and buried his face in his hands.
“Don’t,” he muttered. “Just- don’t say it.”
The twins went very still.
Then Fred said, almost thoughtfully, “Fair enough.”
That, more than anything, made Ron look up.
Fred Weasley had never once in his life chosen not to tease someone about a fear.
George leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“Those were…rather a lot of spiders,” he admitted.
Ron stared at him.
“Rather a lot?” Ron croaked. “There were thousands of them!”
Fred gave a solemn nod.
“Forest full of them.”
“Big ones,” George added.
“Huge.”
“Hairy.”
Ron made a strangled noise.
“Right,” Fred said quickly. “Perhaps we stop describing them.”
Silence settled again.
Ron picked at a loose thread on the sofa cushion.
“I couldn’t even move,” he said finally, voice small. “When they surrounded us. My legs just- stopped working.”
George shrugged slightly.
“That’s sort of what legs do when you’re terrified.”
Ron frowned at him.
“You weren’t there.”
“No,” Fred agreed. “But we’ve had our moments.”
Ron snorted weakly. “Like what?”
The twins exchanged another glance.
Fred pointed a finger toward the ceiling.
“Dragons.”
Ron blinked.
George shuddered dramatically.
“Massive ones. Teeth like swords. Fire everywhere.”
“You fainted,” Fred reminded him.
“I did not faint.”
“You absolutely fainted.”
“I slipped.”
“You slipped into unconsciousness.”
Ron stared at them.
“You’ve never even been near a dragon.”
Fred waved a hand.
“Technicalities.”
George leaned back in his chair.
“Point is, everyone’s scared of something.”
Ron looked unconvinced.
Fred grinned slightly.
“You should see George when Mum’s angry.”
George shot him a glare.
“You climbed out the window last Christmas.”
“She had a wooden spoon!”
“You’d replaced her tea with Canary Creams!”
“It was funny!”
“She turned yellow!”
“That was the point!”
Ron let out a reluctant huff of laughter.
The tension in the room loosened just a little.
Fred noticed.
“Speaking of things going wrong,” he said, leaning forward conspiratorially, “did we ever tell you about the Great Swamp Incident?”
George groaned.
“We nearly got expelled.”
Ron frowned. “You nearly get expelled every week.”
“Yes,” Fred said proudly. “But this time it involved three buckets of swamp mixture, a faulty levitation charm, and Professor Flitwick’s office.”
Ron blinked.
George sighed.
“Fred decided it would be brilliant to test portable swamp technology indoors.”
“It was brilliant.”
“It flooded half the corridor.”
“That was part of the charm!”
“You fell in your own swamp.”
“It was deeper than expected!”
Ron snorted.
Fred continued, warming to the story.
“And then Filch came round the corner-”
“With Mrs. Norris.”
“-and George panicked and tried to vanish the whole thing-”
“Which only made the swamp purple!”
Ron was laughing now, shoulders shaking.
“And then,” George said gravely, “Professor McGonagall arrived.”
Fred winced.
“She did that eyebrow thing.”
Ron wheezed.
“Blimey,” George said, glancing at Fred. “Haven’t heard him laugh since dinner.”
The laughter faded, but Ron looked a little less pale.
The fire crackled quietly.
Fred rested his elbows on his knees.
“You know,” he said after a moment, “there’s something else.”
Ron glanced up.
Fred met his eyes.
“You went into that forest.”
Ron shrugged awkwardly. “Harry was going.”
“Exactly.”
George nodded.
“Forest full of monsters. Giant spiders. Probably all sorts of other things.”
“And you still went,” Fred finished.
Ron looked down at his hands.
“I was terrified.”
Fred smiled gently.
“Yeah.”
George nudged Ron’s foot with his own.
“You faced a forest full of monsters for your friends.”
Fred’s voice softened.
“That’s proper Gryffindor stuff.”
Ron swallowed.
For a moment, his eyes shone in the firelight.
“Don’t tell anyone you said that,” he muttered.
George scoffed.
“Please. Our reputations would be ruined.”
Fred stood and stretched.
“Come on, Ronniekins.”
Ron groaned automatically. “Don’t call me that.”
But he stood up.
George slung an arm around his shoulders as they headed for the stairs.
“Try to get some sleep.”
Ron hesitated.
“What if the spiders come back?”
Fred opened the dormitory door and grinned.
“Well,” he said, “there are three of us.”
George nodded.
“And only about a thousand spiders.”
Ron rolled his eyes.
But he was smiling when he climbed back into bed.
And this time, when he closed his eyes, the space behind his eyelids didn’t seem quite so dark.