"What are you?" Jerry asked.
The friends all turned to stare at Ron, who was bawling with snot and tears streaming down his face. They couldn't understand what was wrong with him.
Ron let out a pitiful wail, looking as if he might collapse: "I'm the heir of the Chamber! I opened the Chamber of Secrets! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry... ah~~~"
Everyone froze on the spot, glancing at each other as though they'd all been hit by a Petrificus Totalus. For a moment, no one could figure out what to say.
Harley kept darting her eyes at the others, trying to signal them. Did Ron get terrified by the spider? If I'd known, I wouldn't have let him come! He's probably just frightened and spouting rubbish. Should I knock him out? They say a good sleep helps in this sort of fit.
Jerry muttered under his breath, "Maybe he's just eaten too many chicken legs and scrambled his brains?"
Neville shook his head violently. "Heir of Slytherin? Opened the Chamber? No way, absolutely not! I'm a Parseltongue and even I didn't say anything. Why's he so desperate to shoulder the blame?"
Hermione turned sharply. "Ted, stun him quickly! We need to get him to Madam Pomfrey right now."
Ted hesitated, wand half-raised. "Wait... is it really Ron?"
Meanwhile Ron was slumped over the steering wheel of the old flying car, sobbing uncontrollably. No one even thought to console him—they were all too stunned.
After what felt like ages, Ron's crying tapered off. He sniffled and began to explain, voice cracking and trembling.
"It all started back at Flourish and Blotts last summer, right before term. Remember that monster in Diagon Alley? Made it straight into the Daily Prophet. That was also when Dad and Lucius Malfoy had that little scuffle—showing us how two proper wizards duel. Fred and George were pulling their usual stunts."
He gulped. "The day after that, Ginny found she'd somehow picked up an old second-hand diary. Didn't think much of it. I needed a spare, didn't have the money for a new one, so I took it. Was decades old, but still had blank pages. Seemed fine."
"Didn't matter at first. I'd just scribble whatever happened that day. Not really a diary—Merlin knows I don't have the patience or the words for it. Maybe twenty words a day, tops."
Ron's voice dropped lower. "Nothing odd at the Burrow. But everything changed once we got back to Hogwarts."
"The night after I crashed Dad's car into the Whomping Willow, then got that Howler in front of the whole Hall... I was a wreck. Ashamed, angry, just... broken. I poured everything into that diary that night."
Ron suddenly burst out: "I didn't think I was alone in driving that car! Secretly blamed you all—Neville, Harley, Jerry—I'm sorry, truly sorry! Forgive me, forgive this great idiot! Ah~~~"
His cries echoed so loud you'd think he might summon werewolves if they were still in the Forbidden Forest.
"Next day, I opened the diary again—and the words were different. They comforted me. Like someone actually heard me."
Ted frowned. "So that's when it started. The diary responded."
Ron nodded miserably. "I didn't question it. Just kept writing. That's when I met him. The diary called him 'Tom Riddle'. Said he was a student here once. Knew loads of spells, understood everything. Spoke so kindly. I started asking him about all sorts—spells, friends, how to get on with people."
Ted's face darkened. "He waited. Stayed hidden until you showed weakness. Then he started working on you."
Ron sniffed. "I... I was jealous of you, Ted. Jealous of how everyone liked you, how you always shined. Even jealous of your silly talent for earning house points."
He suddenly punched himself twice on the chest—sharp, hard strikes, fast enough to remind them of Harley's dueling style. "I deserved that!"
Harley grabbed his wrist. "Oi, don't start knocking yourself about. Tell us the rest."
Ron let out a shaky breath. "The more I trusted Tom, the worse it got. I started pulling away from you lot. Felt tired all the time. My skin went pale. Jerry, remember you said I looked dim-witted? I thought it was just because I skipped morning runs. And yeah... Tom helped with lessons too. My marks shot up, didn't need to copy anymore, even earned extra points."
Jerry scowled. "So all that was him too? Knew it. 'Tom'—Never trust anyone with that name."
Ron hung his head. "Eventually he even told me to be kinder to my friends. That trick completely broke down my last bit of caution. I thought, who'd do that if they were dodgy? I actually started pulling away even more."
Ted clenched his fist.
'Sixteen-year-old Riddle was cunning. Played Ron like a harp.'
Ron whispered, "It all shattered when I found Mum's letter to Lockhart. She's a fan... my mum's a fan of Lockhart?!"
Later, the Chamber of Secrets was opened, and Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, was found petrified, hanging upside down.
That Halloween, Ron had promised to dress up as a chicken and cheese duo with Jerry. But he forgot something important—a small, battered diary. He dashed back to the common room to get it, thinking it would only take a moment.
Afterward, Ron began to suspect that might have been the exact time the Chamber was opened.
Later that evening, he noticed red stains under his fingernails, though he had no memory of touching anything like that. He brushed it off at the time.
But then came other incidents. More and more, Ron found himself missing chunks of time.
Once he even "woke up" outside the castle gates at dawn, covered in chicken feathers! He figured he must have been sleepwalking.
At breakfast, when his old owl crashed into his plate, it was just enough of a distraction for him to shove the worry aside.
Things started getting truly worrying after Christmas. Unlike Ginny, who was young and away from home for the first time, Ron and Ted had already faced plenty together.
So when Ron kept losing time, only to find out someone had been attacked during those same hours, he couldn't help but wonder if it was more than coincidence.
Once or twice is an accident. But several times?
After New Year's, in a panic, he finally threw the diary away. Fear gnawed at him—what if he really was the Heir of Slytherin?
What if he had opened the Chamber and hurt people?
Still, deep down, he clung to the hope that maybe it was only the diary that was cursed. That if he got rid of it, everything would go back to normal.
It was the sort of desperate reasoning only a twelve-year-old could have.
Everyone tries to dodge responsibility at some point. The difference is that when you grow up, you learn to face it.
Ron thought tossing the diary would end it. No more Chambers opening, no more students hurt. The Mandrakes would mature, the petrified would be revived, and life would move on.
He never imagined Neville would find the diary.
At the same time Ron was finally beginning to breathe again, Neville stumbled on the book.
When they learned Hagrid had been accused of being the Heir fifty years ago, Neville, flustered, hid the diary from everyone.
So Ron never knew.
When he finally found out Neville had not only picked up the diary but had started chatting with a friendly "Tom," he was horrified.
Jerry had said that Neville was up bright and early that morning, studying just like Ron. But Ron found the diary missing from its hiding place. That night, he lay under his quilt, heart hammering, convinced everything was falling apart.
"If I'd only had the guts to come clean right then, none of this would've happened! Dumbledore and Hagrid wouldn't have been blamed and sent away! It's my fault. I'm a coward. A complete coward!" Ron sobbed, shoulders shaking.
Ted leaned forward and gave his arm a firm squeeze. "Ron, don't cry. Don't put all that on yourself. I doubt I'd have done better. Who could guess something like this would happen? Don't beat yourself up. Like you said, it's too late to change the past."
Jerry nodded quickly. "Exactly! Come on, Ron, finish your story."
Ron sniffled, tears still streaming, but managed a wobbly smile. He took a shuddering breath and carried on.
Ron hadn't been able to face the idea of Azkaban if it turned out he really had opened the Chamber. So he tried another plan: steal the diary back.
Everyone had assumed Ginny was the one who snuck into the Gryffindor dormitory. But it was Ron all along.
Unfortunately, after stealing it, he lost it again. He'd tried burning it, ripping it apart—nothing worked.
Finally, in a burst of panicked inspiration, he threw it away somewhere he was sure no one would ever look: the abandoned girls' bathroom.
"Right into the toilet," Ron said with a strained laugh. "Who'd fish that out? Not even Moaning Myrtle would bother."
For a while, everything was quiet. Then another victim turned up—Lavender, from their own house.
Ron ran back to check the bathroom, but the diary was gone.
Then the Quidditch match was canceled after two students were attacked at once. By that point, Ron was so terrified he could hardly breathe. He spent his days with his head down, just waiting for the worst.
Until today. After everything that happened—the monster, the battle, the near losses—Ron finally found the courage to tell the truth. Just like he should have done back when it all began.