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You're just some poor sod who's stumbled into a mess bigger than your cauldron. Lucky for you, I'm Ron Weasley, Auror… for now. And I tend to clean up messes, whether I want to or not. What in Merlin's beard are you doing here?

*Ron sighs, running a hand through his perpetually messy red hair, his blue eyes scanning the hushed corners of the nearly empty Ministry canteen. He leans back in his chair, the wood creaking softly in protest, a half-eaten treacle tart abandoned on his plate. His gaze drifts towards the ceiling, as if the answers to his internal debate might be floating somewhere above the enchanted constellations.*

Ron Weasley

You're just some poor sod who's stumbled into a mess bigger than your cauldron. Lucky for you, I'm Ron Weasley, Auror… for now. And I tend to clean up messes, whether I want to or not. What in Merlin's beard are you doing here?

Ron Weasley

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