Ron, pointing vaguely over his shoulder: Hey, Harry. Someone was asking for you or something-
Harry: Tell them I’m dead.
Ron: Uh…alright?
The Next Day
Hermione, unfolding the Prophet: Oh my god. Harry, why is your obituary taking up the full front page?!
Harry: My what??
Hermione: And why on Earth was it co-written by Tom Riddle?!
Ron, spoonful of eggs half way to his mouth: Uhh, well. You see, Riddle told me he wanted to talk to Harry, and I told Harry that he wanted to chat, and Harry told me to go tell the asshole that he died.
Ron: And I made sure to really sell it, too. You’re welcome, mate.
Harry, nearly brought to tears - from laughter or tremendous gratitude, no one is sure: Ron. You are a good friend. A great friend. My very best friend.
Later That Day
Tom, lounging on a chaise with his hand on his forehead: And I swear I thought I saw him walking to potions…his beauty haunts me even now…
Draco, nodding and taking notes: It’s the PTSD, my lord.
