Coughs erupted out of Ron's throat. At this rate he would be hoarse for days. He sat in his bed, pawing at the radio in his hands. Fiddling with the dials and turning them, trying to find a station that wasn't all static. Molly came into the room and smiled at him weakly.
"You feeling alright Ronald, dear?" She ask her son, who didn't even look up from the beat up radio.
"Fine," He said, sarcasticly, "Just coughing up a bloody lung here." Molly sighed.
"I'll fetch your father then." She responded, "He has something to show you anyway."
"But," Ron protested, clearing his irritated throat, "You know that dad always wants to read me those stupid muggle stories when I am sick."
"Well humor him," Molly grumbled, "This is one that he is particularly fond of."
"Fine." Ron groaned, falling back onto the bed, his arm covering his face. Molly soon disappeared from the doorway. Ron could hear her talking to his father downstairs. Soon Aurther appeared in the doorway, classic Weasley smile spread across his face and a leather bound book clutched tightly in his hands.
"Well, Ron, are you ready for an adventure?!" Aurther ask, his enthusiasm apparent in his voice.
"As ready as I'll ever be." Came Ron's sarcastic, muffled comment. He sighed, rolling onto his side to face his dad, who was pulling up a chair.