The Ballad of Ron Weasley

Ron Weasley had made many questionable decisions in his life. He had once tried to curse a slug and ended up belching them for hours. He had worn dress robes that made him look like a velvet curtain. But sneezing directly into an open spellbook while attempting a charm he didn't understand? That was a new low.

"I don't see why you can't just study," Hermione said, not looking up from her Arithmancy notes. "The N.E.W.T.s are in three weeks."

"And I don't see why you can't just relax," Ron muttered. He flipped through a dusty book he'd found in the back of the common room. "Besides, I'm practicing. Look at this one—'Cantus Continuum.' Sounds harmless."

Harry looked up from his chessboard. "Ron, the last harmless spell you tried turned your eyebrows into caterpillars."

"That was one time."

Ron flicked his wand. He also sneezed. The spell hit him square in the chest. For a moment, nothing happened. Then Ron opened his mouth to say something sarcastic, and what came out was: "Oh, blimey, that tickled my nose, and now I suppose my day's a total loss!"

He clapped a hand over his mouth. Hermione finally looked up. "What was that?"

Ron tried again. "I said, I think I've made a terrible mistake, and I'd very much like a piece of cake!" His voice rose and fell in a jaunty tune. Harry dropped his chess piece.

"You're singing," Harry said.

"I'm not singing, I'm speaking in song, there's a difference, you know!" Ron sang, his face turning the color of his hair. "And I can't stop, so please don't laugh, or I'll have to hex you both in the—" He paused, searching for a rhyme. "—aftermath!"

Hermione bit her lip, but a snort escaped. "It's the Cantus Continuum. It forces the victim to speak in melodic verse until the counter-charm is performed."

"Then perform it!" Ron wailed, which came out as a surprisingly operatic note.

"I can't. The counter-charm requires three voices singing in harmony. Specifically, the three of us."

Harry groaned. "I can't sing."

"Neither can I," Hermione admitted. "But we have no choice. Ron, what's the counter-charm?"

Ron sang, "It's 'Finite Cantatum,' but you have to hit the high note on the last syllable!" He looked horrified. "I didn't even know I knew that!"

"The spell must be feeding him the information," Hermione said. "All right. On three. Harry, just follow my lead."

They sang. It was terrible. Harry's voice cracked like a rusty hinge. Hermione's pitch wavered like a sinking ship. Ron, still under the spell, harmonized beautifully against his will, which only made him angrier.

"Louder!" Hermione shouted.

"I am louder!" Harry shouted back, which was also singing.

Finally, on the third attempt, they hit the right chord. A puff of golden smoke erupted from Ron's ears. He coughed, then spoke normally. "I hate all of you."

"You're welcome," Hermione said, smiling.

"I also hate that I now know what your singing voice sounds like, Harry. It's like a dying cat."

"At least I'm not the one who serenaded the entire common room about his love of chocolate frogs."

Ron turned to Hermione. "I didn't say anything embarrassing, did I?"

Hermione's cheeks went pink. "You sang something about how you've always thought my hair looks nice in the library light."

Ron stared at her. Harry suddenly became very interested in his chessboard.

"Well," Ron said after a long pause. "That's true, actually."

Hermione smiled. "I know."

Harry cleared his throat. "Should I leave?"

"No," Ron and Hermione said together. Then Ron added, "But if you tell anyone about the singing, I'll make sure your next Quidditch match involves a Bludger with your name on it."

Harry grinned. "Wouldn't dream of it."

And for the rest of the evening, Ron didn't touch another spellbook. He did, however, hum softly under his breath whenever Hermione walked past. He couldn't help it.