Wednesday 20th November

When Ron felt his body stand, it was not him who had ordered the move.
He could only see his peripheral vision. The centre of his view was a blurred dark mass, and the misty corners out of which he could see showed himself climbing the stairs, opening the Fat Lady's portrait hole and stepping into the Gryffindor common room.

Ron tried to move a limb... nothing. He strained as hard as he could. Not even a twitch. All he could move were his eyes, and his vision was barely notable. Ron couldn't even whisper, let alone shout for help.

He struggled hard against the choking contol over his body. Thankfully his mind was still very much his own, and although his brain was about 90% full of confusion at the moment (which didn't leave much room for anything else,), despite Hermione's constant overshadowing, Ron wasn't stupid. He had to find a way out.

After a short conversation with Hermione, which was something Ron decided to file away and come back to later, the force led him to the dorms. He saw himself undress and climb into bed, without doing anything and having no control over the movements.

When whatever or whoever was inside him finally fell into a light sleep, Ron assessed the situation.

One: I have been possessed by someone or something.

Two: I cannot move my body or speak, but I can see and think.

Three: Do they know I can think?

Four: What are they planning?

The last one seemed horribly obvious; what would be the point of possessing him exactly if not to get close to Harry? Everyone knew they were close friends. If anyone wanted to harm Harry, through Ron would be the ideal way to do it.

But Ron couldn't let this happen: Harry was his best friend and he would die before be the cause of harm towards him...
But if he had no control, then maybe he wouldn't be able to stop himself, maybe he would just have to sit back and watch as his best friend was hurt- or worse- by him.
It was little consolation that Ron knew he wouldn't be doing it personally, when everyone else would think it was him. And who knew what would happen if the possessor did manage to succeed? Would they leave Ron and that would be that? Somehow, Ron doubted it.

The night slid by like a ghost. The host was awake at dawn and although Ron was exhausted, he fought harder than he had done yesterday evening: tending every muscle in his body, widening his eyes and shouting as loud as he could till his throat screamed.

The host noticed him.