Ron had changed over... last night, basically. He had fallen asleep thinking about the absurdity of Snape the Headnurse, Snape and the crazy girlfriend, and he thought quite a bit of Hermione too. In his dreams, his feelings of bemusement and confusion turned into something much less ambiguous.

Astral Ron was not ambiguous. In fact, he was the mortal enemy of moral ambiguity. He would smash it with a hammer!

He did not question why he was suddenly wearing Gryffindor robes, a maroon sweater, and a mustache of evil. Nor did he questions why he suddenly had a strong urge to beat up anyone whose victimization might present them with some nice hurt/comfort action at the expense of Ron's characterization. A Slytherin felt about right. Or some bottom in a slash fic. Or a girl!

"Hullo!" Ron announced. "Can any bloke bloody find me a snake, a bird, or a pouf?"