"Oh, Ron, you great fool," Harry said to himself, in a quiet but amused tone, as he flipped through the Sorcerer's Stone. To Albus, he said, "He did get better as we got older, and anyway, I believed much the same when I was that age. But let that be a lesson to you...things truly aren't always as they seem." He was struck by a long passage, and it transported his memories back to things he hadn't thought about in so long...how he'd felt so out of place at Hogwarts until Ron and Hermione became his friends, how poorly they'd treated Mione at first, that distant but terrifying first brush with magick. The Mirror of Erised....the book didn't adequately describe how much time he had truly lost just watching his parents in the enchanted glass. How enamoured of the past he'd been.
Closing the book firmly, he looked back up at Albus, at his future. Which was how he liked it. "Ron doesn't like having his worries questioned," he admitted, "but I will do my best. Merlin knows he'd bloody stubborn. Just like your mum," he added quietly, thinking of Ginny with a bit of wistfulness.