The Hollow Beneath Hogwarts

27. Superman (It's Not Easy)

Sloane quickly discovered that once Harry and Hermione began speaking positively about their sessions, word spread through Hogwarts faster than wildfire.

Suddenly, her office was never empty.

Students she barely knew were knocking on her door between classes asking if they could talk. Some arrived awkward and nervous. Others clearly only came because their friends forced them to. A few treated it like gossip hour rather than therapy.

Some she genuinely liked. Others... Well. Some tested every ounce of patience she possessed.

Goose, however, turned out to be the greatest addition to her office she could have asked for. The giant fluffy creature fascinated absolutely everyone who entered the room. Students who arrived tense and defensive instantly softened whenever Goose waddled over demanding attention or curled himself around their feet.

And despite being painfully shy himself, Goose somehow always seemed to know exactly who needed comfort. He would quietly rest his head on someone's lap or lean against them until their shoulders relaxed.

Sloane adored him for it.

Ron Weasley, however, remained her most frustrating patient by far. Not because he was rude. Not because he was difficult. But because he absolutely refused to speak.

By her third week at Hogwarts, Ron had already attended five sessions with her—McGonagall's official punishment for his behaviour at the Welcoming Feast. Unfortunately for Ron, Sloane had quickly realised he was intentionally refusing to participate.

So she signed him up for another five.

Naturally, he hated her for it.

Which was exactly how Sloane found herself sitting across from him once again on a rainy, miserable Friday afternoon near the end of September.

Rain battered against the office windows relentlessly while dark clouds swallowed the sky outside. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, filling the room with warmth that Ron stubbornly ignored.

He sat slouched deep in the chair opposite her, arms folded tightly across his chest, staring moodily out the window as though personally offended by the weather.

Goose sat in the corner reading upside down.

Sloane had stopped questioning how he managed it. "So..." she tried again with forced cheerfulness, "how are your NEWT classes going?"

No answer.

"Too much homework?"

Silence.

"What about Quidditch? Excited for the season?"

Nothing. She resisted the urge to sigh loudly. Over the last several sessions she had attempted nearly every topic imaginable. School. Teachers. His family. Harry. Hermione. The war. Food. Chess. Even the Chudley Cannons, which Hermione had informed her were somehow still his favourite Quidditch team despite the fact they were catastrophically terrible.

Nothing worked.

Ron simply sat there eating her biscuits like a starving man and refusing to speak.

Honestly, she was beginning to suspect he only attended for the free snacks.

At that very moment, he was halfway through demolishing an entire plate of chocolate biscuits while staring dramatically into the rain like a man mourning the loss of civilisation itself.

Sloane watched him carefully. She could feel everything rolling off him emotionally even without him speaking. Frustration. Sadness. Anger. Insecurity. Grief. Her empath abilities never failed her. And deep down underneath all that stubborn silence, Ron was hurting far more than he let anyone see.