Ron looked different. He hadn't aged well. There was something unspeakably dark in the lines of his face, a dull tint to his hair, which was slicked back and held in a ruler-straight pony tail to his waist by an onyx hair clasp. Without feeling it, Harry couldn't be sure, but there was something senselessly cold about Ron's expression. He would have easily believed him to be missing a part of his soul.