Welcome to my latest creation, 'Voice of Experience'. This is a work of fiction that came to mind when a friend of mine spoke of an interest in time travel based fan fiction. I rather enjoyed the plot line the first few times I read it as well, but I feel it has gone a bit stale. So instead of complaining, I decided to create something I hope is fresh and interesting.
There is very little to say at this point. I don't care for angst based stories, so please do not be alarmed at the first portion of my work. It is simply needed to advance the plot, and shall become lighthearted soon enough. Also, I am not british, nor do I try to be when writing this. So I admit, I sometimes slip in and out of mannerisms and sayings when writing about british characters. I promise to try and brush up on various saying and improve in time.
Without further adieu, I present to you my story. And I give all rights to those who earned them originally. I am simply using your work to give me a spring board into writing bigger and better things.
Note: Story breaks from canon after year five.
Voice of Experience
Ron stood over the empty grave before him. At twenty three, he was already far too used to these feelings. The loss, the gut wrenching sense of loss was unbearable, yet no amount of preparation could have helpd him cope with this. This final loss had truly brought home the fact that he was alone.
Harry Potter, his best mate, had killed himself.
The boy who had lived willingly ended his own life, and in an odd turn of fate left only Ron as the survivor of a bloody war. Voldemort was dead, murdered by Harry in a half crazed moment, striking when the dark lord had expected resistance the least.
Sighing, Ron sat down in front of the grave, staring at the epitaph that only read the name of one of the most tragic heroes the wizarding world had ever seen. Surrounding him were the graves of everyone else he had ever known, each one murdered by Voldemort. His mother, each of his brothers, Ginny, his sister and Harry's girlfriend, and even Hermione. He didn't know if he had the right to be sitting with them, but he had long overcome enough of his guilt that he could at least pretend for a time that he was worthy to be here with them.
In retrospect, it was probably only the fact that he had stormed off from his family and friends in a stubborn rage that had won them the war, but it didn't make it easier to accept. He had been foolish, angry over something stupid Hermione had said, leaving everyone alone in the orchard of the Burrow while he continued on inside. A large explosion had rocked him off his feet, and Ron had felt the massive discharge of magic as the wards surrounding his home broke, allowing a group of death eaters in.
It hadn't even been a fight, the death eaters had just descended on them like rabid dogs while Ron struggled to make it back to help them. Before he had even made it halfway to their sides, they had been taken away by portkey, leaving him alone.
The next few days had been hell for Ron. He hadn't slept more than minutes at a time, spending all of his time in search of a death eater, any death eater, to tell him where they had taken his friends. It didn't matter to him what he had to do to extract that information either.
Looking back, it was clearly a horrible way to go about helping his friends.An underage wizard only about to enter his seventh year of hogwarts, sleep deprived and fueled by rage, was looking for a fight with trained sycophants. Even to this day he wasn't sure how he managed to not get himself murdered in those few days he had traveled, knowing he had pissed off many people a lot less forgiving than the death eaters as he tried to hunt down a clue.
Only after finally collapsing on the fourth day of his searching did he get a full night of rest, and that had made him curse himself for his impotence. Even as he let the obscenities flow, he had heard multiple pops outside the alleyway he had fallen into. He remembered the rage in his heart bloom when he saw the black robes of the bastards he had been hunting. Without thinking he had jumped out to duel the three men, taking one down with a stunner before they could react. Ron then had closed the distance between them, and wand forgotten, began to beat the two men. It had been bloody, and he easily recalled the feeling of them breaking under his fists, and the visceral enjoyment it gave him.
He had even seen one of the men reached for those damn portkeys of theirs, and grabbed it, activating it for himself. Appearing in a room of what he later learned was a mansion belonging to the Goyles, he had been alone with the sounds of screams coming from a nearby room, and his blood had frozen.
Grabbing his wand, he ran towards the source of the screams, kicking open a large ornate door, and came to a halt as he was forced to face the sight before him. No matter how he tried to forget it, the image he had run into would always invade his nightmares from then on. Hanging in a circle around where Harry lied writhing on the floor were the bodies of his family and friends. Each one showing the signs of extreme torture, blood staining the floor beneath them. And at the head of the room was Voldemort, hanging directly to either side of him were the bodies of Hermione and Ginny.
Ron rubbed his knees absently, looking into the sky as he struggled to keep down what little he had eaten that day. When he had seen it, he remembered falling to his knees and vomiting. Two of the most important girls in his life had obviously not died easily. The signs of cuts and broken bones were visible, as was the fact that they had probably been raped repeatedly while Harry was forced to watch. All around him Death eaters had stood, laughing at his reaction. Voldemort, though, just stared at him with a bored expression on his face, continuing to hold Harry under the cruciatus curse.
It could have been hours that he stayed there, on his hands and knees shuddering as his friend screamed, but it was probably only a moment or two before the dark lord had stopped his torturing. The silence must have broken him of his trance, because then he had done something incredibly reckless and foolhardy, and had stood up to face the fantatical and xenophobic terrorist. His fear was forgotten, and he had just sneered, telling the bastard just where he could shove his wand, as well as a few other inventive uses for his orifices.
Ron had smirked, despite everything that had happened up until that point. He still felt a sort of instinctive pride at the horrified gasps the death eaters had given him, as well as the look of unmitigated hatred on Voldemort's face.
From there had begun a pitched battle for Ron. He had recklessly rushed in headfirst into a situation he had no hope of surviving without getting the help of Dumbledore or the Order, and he supposed he should have died for that stupidity. The only thing that had kept him alive was a stubborn resistance telling him not to give into those curses that hit him, and the fact Voldemort had wanted to prolong his suffering.
"Look Harry," Voldemort had commanded after landing a cutting curse along Ron's ribs, "another one of your friends has come to die." Ron remembered the dull glassy look in his friend's eyes, and he doubted the other boy had understood the words. He had probably been under the cruciatus curse for too long, and it was likely his mind was gone. The rage of that thought had fueled his temper, and in a brave but reckless moment, he had taken another curse to score a particularly powerful punching curse to Voldermort's shoulder. The large snap as the bone broke was deafening as the death eaters stopped their taunts in paralyzed fear of their master's wrath.
The power Voldermort had then threw at him was incredible. Ron had been batted back like an annoying fly against a wall. Before he could move, Voldemort had pointed his wand at him, using the cruciatus curse on him. He had screamed and screamed, feeling the worst pain imaginable to man. Through it all, Voldemort had taunted him, saying he would save his life if he would only kill Harry for him.
Ron still shuddered at the thought of such a request, and even though it had been against his body's strongest desire to do so, he had refused. The pain had intensified as Voldemort grew angrier, but from where he was, he could see what the other man hadn't been able to.
As he had brokered his deal, Harry's head had picked up a bit, and after refusing to hurt Harry, Ron felt hope enter his heart as a bit of fire returned to his friends eyes.
The next moment had always been beyond his explanation, but Harry had stood, and despite the collective gasps of the death eaters, Voldemort ignored them in favor of continuing his torture. Raising his hand, Harry had pointed it palm first at Voldemort, a faint glow growing around it, shining like a faint ember before growing into a strong golden corona. Voldemort had finally stopped his torturing, turning to face the source of light, and he had commited to memory the gasp of surprise Voldemort gave as Harry released the power.
From his hand flew a phoenix made of Harry's magic, and something more, something that had filled Ron with hope and a deep warm feeling he had ever since been without. Harry's magic had been fueled by his love, his last bit of love had gone into a spell so strong it drove into Voldemort too fast to stop, causing the man to jerk and arch his back as a silent scream left throat. The man had glowed gold for a moment before the light turned red, engulfing the leader of the most fearsome group of blood supremists the world had ever seen. All around them the dark mark on the arm of each man present took on the same light, before they too caught fire.
In a moment, everyone was dead, except for the boy who had lived and his very first friend.
Sighing, Ron pushed himself up from the grave, not turning back to look at it lest he be tempted to sleep the entire night here. It was like his march back home with Harry and the bodies of everyone he cared for. He had levitated them on a long march out of the manor, making it a few miles in the direction of civilization before being found by the Order of the Phoenix.
After that had come the darkest days for both Harry and Ron. Harry had never been the same after that ordeal, and he could hardly blame him. He lived at Hogwarts, under watch by Ron and the rest of the staff to make sure he didn't do something to himself in their absence. Without their help he would never eat, and rarely slept. The only words he ever spoke were short sentences, and then only to Ron.
Even though he had wanted to spend all of his time with his friend, Ron had thrown himself into work. He had become an Auror, intent on stopping anything like this ever happening to anyone ever again, and he secretly thought that Harry, wherever the real Harry had been inside the shell, was proud of that.
Ron had even begun to master his temper, and became the best, if most lonely Auror, the department had seen in years. He never went out with his coworkers, rarely talked to others unless spoken to first, and had turned down the advances of many of his female acquaintances. After Hermione, there was no way any of them could ever hope to replace her in his heart.
Maybe Ron should have seen the signs coming better than he had. Harry had seemed to have been getting better over the past few weeks, and he had held hope that after so many years he was finally coming to terms with his innermost demons. A new light and drive had seemed to fuel the dark morose man, and he had begun to care for himself without the aid of others, and many with him had praised it as a good beginning. None of them had expected that the boy whose love had saved them all had only been stringing them along so he could kill the one last person he hated above all others, himself.
In a foolish moment, everyone had agreed to let him go to bed early without a chaperone. Even Ron had thought little of it, instead enjoying a firewhiskey and discussing the finer points of a spell he had learned with the Defense against the Dark Arts professor, which had become the honor of being reinstated to Remus Lupin. He had felt better than he had in years, and was beginning to think that while he may never be happy, things were going to get better.
The loud boom from room he and Harry shared in the teacher's wing of Hogwarts rang out loud enough to shake the fixing over the fireplace. A step faster than Dumbledore, he had raced up the stairs to see the window open, and Harry broom gone from the mantle place. Outside, falling to the ground was a large fireball, and he had just been able to make out the shape of the person within.
Despite their best efforts, the attempt to save him had been useless, as the body had burned to dust before anybody reached him, leaving Ron as the sole survivor to a legacy no sane man would want.
Deciding he had walked far enough, he pulled out his wand and apparated to the gates of Hogwarts, seeing the lights on in Gryffindor tower as students rested and enjoyed the peace his friend had sacrificed everything for.
It was just so damned unfair, Ron thought, feeling his temper rise. Instead of fighting it back down for once, he let it fill him, enjoying the feeling it gave him. He was expected at the office of Dumbledore any time now, but he ignored that, heading for the Room of Requirement instead. He taught defense seminars in here on the weekends to willing students, but he knew it would be empty on a week night. These children were the first generation to grow apart from the fighting his had seen, and were not so motivated to learn the skills of fighting like he and his friends had been.
Pacing in front of the door with foot steps hard enough that they echoed in the silent hallways, he opened the door to a large training room before slamming it shut behind him. Before him were various muggle equipment to help him work out, and down the way was a shooting range to practice his magic. Before setting into work, he transfigured the suit he had worn to the funeral into something more fitting for this sort of activity.
He didn't say anything for the next few hours as he let go of his frustrations. He imagined every death eater he had ever met, enjoying the sight of his fists and spells being aimed at their most sensitive parts. Sometimes he found it hard to not think what it would have been like if he had trained this hard, or even half as hard as Harry had, before the final days. Maybe he could have made more of a difference, but he would never know for sure, and he had to accept part of his skill had come from being trained by the best, which had only been possible because he was an Auror.
Leaning against a punching bag, Ron held himself up by his arms as he took a few shuddering breaths, trying to regain his composure. He was getting worried about how much his mind was turning back into dark thoughts. He had to mourn Harry, but he was worried about what that would do to his remaining sanity. It had only been for the sake of keeping Harry alive and well that he had been able to pull through the depression of his family and friends dying. Dumbledore had been helpful, having lived through a war himself, and had tried to impress upon him how he had to move on, for there was no use in letting the past rule him.
It had been a load of rubbish, good rubbish yes, but rubbish when things truly hurt, but he knew the man was right. The past was not the place he should be living in, metaphorically speaking at least.
Ron stopped. His breathing halted, and for a moment he felt the skipped beats of his heart as the last thought really sunk into his head. Wizards had some control over the past. The use of time turners, while relatively weak in effect, was obviously proof of such an ability.
He also was in the castle with the best wizard the world had seen since the age of Merlin Ambrosius. Ron had been made to listen of how lucky he was to be taught by such a genius, and forced to hear people extol about Dumbledore's many advances in the theory of magic.
Grabbing his wand from a nearby table, he ran from the room at a jog, transfiguring his clothing into more acceptable trousers and shirt as he made his way to the headmasters office. The gargoyle didn't even ask for a password, and he suspected the headmaster had understood his need for privacy and had been prepared to accommodate him when he finally chose to arrive.
Rushing up the stairs two at a time, he slammed open the door to the room, and Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk, looking older than he every remembered him. Dark bags were under his eyes, and he was beginning to look positively skeletal. But the man still had an air of power around him, and that stunning aura was what shook him from the stupor the sight had put him in.
In two steps, he had crossed the room, and pointed his wand at the man's forehead, holding it steady as he stared him directly in his eyes. "I need your help," Ron said, "and I don't want you to give me the misdirections and half truths Harry had to put up with. I don't care if you're the best duelist alive, we both know you won't kill me, and I will be back as many times as it takes to get what I want."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, and Ron smirked, not surprised that the venerable old man found his outburst amusing. He was serious, deadly so, but a part of him admired the bravery Dumbledore still showed even when so weakened by age. Many a dark wizard he had captured in the past few years could boast the same confidence, but none of them were nearly as powerful as the man across from him now.
Steepling his hands, Dumbledore rested his chin on his fingers, "And what might I be able to do for you, Mr. Weasely?"
"You have been considered the greatest genius in terms of boh theoretical and experimental magic the world has seen since Merlin, have you not?" Ron quieried.
Dumbledore gave him a genial smile, "I might have received such an honorific once or twice, though I hardly think it fair to compare myself to such a figure as Merlin. May I ask why that involves your having a wand pointed at me?"
Ron smiled tightly, "You may. It involves you because I want you to help me with a little project of mine. How does a time turner work, professor? And do try to keep it simple, I am not as smart as either Harry or Hermione were, so I don't care to be fooled just because you chose to word your response in such a manner I won't understand it."
Dumbledore's expression became more serious, "I fear I know the way this line of questioning is heading, and while I will grant your request, I would ask you remove your wand and sit down so we may discuss this better." Ron nodded once, and lowered his wand just enough it was no longer threatening, but remained standing and at the ready to react should the need arise.
The old man across from him sighed, "I see you're not to be dissuaded so easily. So be it. What you ask is better put as how is it possible that our magic, or that of the time turner, is capable of changing the world around you so as to visit the past?" Waving his hand, a rubber sheet appeared in the air, stretched to it's maximum, and on his desk were three balls of different sizes.
"Let me ask you Mr. Weasly, let's say I drop one of these balls onto the sheet." Dumbledore waved a hand and the medium sized ball landed on the sheet, deforming it. "Now, let us call this an event in time. If I were to take this small ball here and placed it on the sheet, what might happen?"
Dumbledore let the ball float over so it landed in Ron's free hand, and he frowned looking down at it. "I suppose," he started, "that it would roll towards the other ball, seeing as the sheet leads down into it. So I guess that what you mean to say is we're destined to reach this event?" Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling, "Indeed. Five points to Gryffindor. While not difficult to grasp, that is the premise of destiny and prophecy. Many different roads lead to that end point, but we still roll inexorably forward."
Gesturing to the ball, Ron let it go onto the sheet, and it made it's way to rest by the other ball. "Now, to relate this to the magic you speak of, a time turner does little to alter the time you see, which in this case is the sheet. You may think of it as making the small ball move again once it has already reached an event." Lifting his wand from his desk, he made the small ball roll in different patterns around the other one, "As you can see, this causes small ripples, and eventually the main event will move some small degree, but we essentially have the same world we began with."
Ron nodded, wondering where this was leading, "And how does that help then professor? I see another ball, therefore I am going to have to ask you to get on with whatever else there is to tell me, as I am not in the mood for games."
Dumbledore sighed, "What you propose to do is something much more drastic." Pointing his wand at the ball, the headmaster made it float until it was just above the sheet in another location. Letting his magic stop, the ball dropped onto the sheet, causing it to bend before breaking through the rubber and slamming into the floor. The other two balls, having lost their support, began to roll towards the tear before joining the other ball on the floor.
"You, Mr Weasly," Dumbledore said quietly, "intend to destroy time as we know it, and then reform it in a way that meets your fancy. Not only is that danger ous to you, but there is little telling what it could do to everyone else. I will be honest, I have thought these sorts of things through very carefully. The chances are good it would cause no lasting harm, aside from the person in the past having to absorb your thoughts and memories, but is it worth such a risk? Who were we, to be made gods to gamble with the lives of others so casually? I learned my lesson in trying to manipulating Harry, even with the best intentions at heart, and I cannot condone what you wish to do."
Ron sighed and ran a hand through his hair before falling back heavily into a padded arm chair. "Professor," he said, "may I ask you another question?" Dumbledore smiled, "Pardon my being informal, but yes you may, Ron."
"When was the last time you lived for what you wanted to live for?" He looked up to see the sad look on his old headmaster's face, and he knew the answer before the man could form any words. "I thought so," he said. "I know I shouldn't be saying this, as I had an alright childhood. I know you and Harry had your problems growing up, so excuse my presumption, but why live? Being noble and helping someone is a wonderful cause to devote your life to, but it can't be everything."
Ron stood up, and stood in front of the bookcase, staring at the books' spines for a moment, swallowing hard to keep control over his voice. "After Hermione passed on," Ron said quietly, "I sort of began to study the muggle world, ya know? I came across a lot of interesting things, but some of the most amazing bits of their culture were the stories they tell each other. Choose your format, television, written word, song, dance, it doesn't matter, they thrive on passing on such things to one another. When was the last time you heard fanciful stories of magic and morals and heroic deeds inside of a tales we tell our magical children? Mostly we stick to real people, like you and Harry, but the two of you are the sorts of people who are few and far between."
"As I kept studying these stories, I began to read a lot of different things, and do you know what I found Professor" Dumbledore shook his head, and Ron turned to face him fully, "People like you and Harry, while great people, are not the best sort of hero one could wish for. Where is the people's hero who understands what it is like to understand the importance of family, if you come from a home like Harry did? You still fight and give it your all, but how much more conviction might he have had if he had forged ahead to make his own family? To understand how important it is to a child to have a mothers touch. Desiring it is one thing, and quite reasonable to fight to protect it, but to know the tender caress is something wholly different."
Dumbledore looked ready to argue, but Ron held a hand up to stop him, "Maybe not the strongest argument, I agree. I merely wished to point out that it is important to reinforce the reasons to fight, and sometimes you need to take every chance you have to live for yourself, even at some minor expense to. Let me put it another way, though. If you were to travel around the world, and at each place you went to a man asked you for something, knowing they could fool you out of everything you own, what might happen to you eventually?"
"I suppose I would find myself penniless and without a means to support myself," the headmaster said.
Ron nodded, "Yeah, there is that. Alone and without anything for yourself, what should happen if you find yourself stranded, and say a blizzard is coming? You would freeze to death because you were foolish enough to give to the point you could no longer care for yourself. You would have satisfied the needs of a small few, compared to the many you could have helped in a lifetime had you just said 'No, I need this for myself' on occasion."
Dumbledore gazed out at Ron for a long moment over his spectacles, "I should think that if Ms. Granger were here, she would be quite proud of the maturity and logic with which you used to argue your point, Ron."
Ron felt his cheeks flush a bit, "Yeah, well, when life has thrown the kind of quaffles at you that it has at me, you learn to grow up a bit." Dumbledore nodded, "I suspect it would. I fear I find myself growing stubborn in my old age, Ron, and find it difficult to accept views different from mine, but you have forced me to accept your argument in part. Why is it that I should help you with this venture though? What places the life of Harry and your friends, which I assure you are quite important none the less, over those of every other person?"
He shrugged, "I can't give you a clear cut morally sound reason, professor. I'm sorry if that's what you wish from me, but all I can say is this. A lot of people died in our sixth year. There were nightly raids, and Harry had to suffer through nearly every single one of them nightly. He was just starting to find happiness with my sister when the events took place that became the downfall of everyone you and I cared about, and that includes Harry losing his mind. He lived a half existence here, just sort of existing without really being tuned in, ya know?"
"We have a way to fix that though. We have a chance to bring back all those lives lost. Half of our magical world died in Voldemort's raids. He didn't let the boundaries of country or oceans stop his reign of terror. The only person who could stop him was forced to experience what I can only imagine was the most horrifying things anyone could ever have to live through. And he did it to save those that remained. They owe HIM something now, the muggles included. And you can't tell me that you didn't love him in your own way. We all did, anyone on the side of light cared for Harry in one way or another. We owe it to him to do this, and we owe it to ourself. As I said, saying 'I come first' is exactly what you need to do in order to help more people at times. Besides, you said there is relatively low risk for the damage to spread, and you are one of the most brilliant wizards alive, maybe there is a reason you're here right now. Maybe that's just the way we're supposed to head in time, towards the moment where you were destined to do one of the biggest acts of magic known to man, and let me go back to fix what went wrong."
Dumbledore was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable as he seemed to process everything Ron had said.
"I think," Dumbledore said slowly, causing Ron to sit straighter in his chair, "I was incorrect in my earlier assessment of you. Everyone would have been proud of the young man you have become. Perhaps you are right, maybe at the end of my life, it is time I do just this one selfish act for myself, and for the boy I saw as the son I never was graced to have. I suspect that if anyone can guide him through the difficult times to come, it will be you, Mr. Weasly. I will do it, but remember, there are many preparations to be made, so I must ask you to have some patience with me. As well, we must talk of a few things, for I fear without the outcome of the war to temper my pride down, I will be a most difficult person to handle in the past if not approached properly."
Ron nodded, "I can live with that professor. After all, we have all the time in the world, don't we?"
Dumbledore smiled at him, and they began to lay out a framework of the weeks to come.
XxXxXx
Ron watched as Dumbledore continued to burn runes into the ground around the area of stone henge. Smiling to himself, he studied the runes and enjoyed the thought that for the first time, he would have the chance to take the introductory classes that Hogwarts offered in the subject. He had never grown interested in things like studying, but somehow the thought of something as mundane as that filled him with giddiness. Maybe he would even go the full mile and take Arithmancy, just because he could, and it wouldn't hurt to get on Hermione's good side for a change from how the early years had happened originally.
Shaking his head, he forced himself to focus on pouring more magic into the stones around him. He hadn't been too surprised when Dumbledore had explained that this site had been used for the focus of magic rituals back in the days before Merlin, when magic had been weaker in humans than it was now. The whole explanation he had been given escaped him, but he just accepted it as one of those things that he didn't really need to understand. As long as he could use it to his advantage, that was more than enough for him at the moment.
Pointing his wand at the final stone, he began to fill it with the remaining portion of needed magic, before making sure he had distributed it evenly over each stone. Finishing his work, he saw that Dumbledore too was nearly done with the truly hard part of the work. A few minutes later the old man walked over to him, grinning as he wiped a bit of sweat from his forehead. "Reminds me of when I was a boy," the headmaster said, "trying out some new sort of spell. Of course, I was able to spring back a bit faster, but let us just say that expertise makes up for my long lost youth, shall we?" His eyes twinkled, and Ron felt himself smile, getting more used to the reaction.
Part of the past few weeks had been used to help Ron cope better with everything he had been forced to live through. Though the first part had been difficult, and involved much crying, anger, and quite a selection of curse words at Dumbledore for making him admit to every doubt, worry, and fear he had, he knew it was important. He was going to be essentially forcing himself on his younger mind, and to go in with such a bad outlook on life would do little good in the future. So he had been forced to lay many of his old demons to rest. He was far from being healed, and he doubted he ever would be, but now he could go with a clearer conscience, knowing he wouldn't be making this as hard as it could be on what would be the conglomeration of his younger and older self.
"Well, best we do this at our best, so I have brought us lunch," Dumbledore said with a large smile on his face, and snapped. causing a large basket to appear. As they sat down to eat, they reviewed the plans they had made, and Dumbledore quizzed him briefly on his part of the spell.
After they had eaten their fill and were sure that they were prepared for the taxing spell before them, Ron took his place in the center of the stone monuments. To the direct north, standing between two arches stood Dumbledore. All around them glowed runes and stone, and made Ron's skin crawl as the magic rolled across him. He nodded to the old man, and they both began to chant the spell at the same time, their wands working together to gather magic around them.
Ron closed his eyes, and imagined his magic as a very dense ball, to which he kept adding more magic. He lacked the control to add direction to the spell, and instead he trusted Dumbledore to ensure that he would arrive safely in the summer before his first year of school. His job was to create the tear in time through which he would travel. The denser his magic, the more time would bend, and he focused hard on making it dense enough to work. He could feel Dumbledores subtle manipulations of his magic to change it into the needed spell, but ignored that.
Close to an hour later, he felt the change in the magic around him, and cut off his own magic to the spell a moment before it took control. They had expected this. The magic had run away from them, and now it would cascade into the final spell they needed of it's own accord.
Ron grinned, opening his eyes to wait out the final moment before the spell took completion, only to see Dumbledore still locked in the magic, an intense look of concentration on his face. "DUMBLEDORE!" As he shouted, the other man opened his eyes, and gave him a soft smile, "I know what I am doing, Mr. Weasly. Don't worry, I am listening to your advice and doing what I want. I will not let this run wild and ruin the world Harry created here for us."
"But you'll die," Ron argued, and he could see Dumbledore smile. "I'm very old Ron. Very old. I feel my time would be measured in months even should I survive this casting. If I am to go, then let it be with one last great act, to bring with me a tale to the afterlife that I can tell with pride to all who'll listen. A tale of how I gave two boys I have to come to see as sons a second chance in life. Now go, I do believe you're friends are waiting." Dumbledore smiled, and nodded just as the gateway opened before him.
Looking between the gate and Dumbledore, he felt himself torn. He knew the right choice was to step through the gate, but it felt wrong to leave Dumbledore here to clean up his mess. "Ron," Dumbledore said softly, "you said yourself that sometimes there is no easy moral decision to make. I do this with full knowledge of my actions, so go and fix those things that only you are lucky enough to make amends to."
Ron swallowed past a large clot in his throat and nodded, "I'll send Harry your love." Dumbledore gave him a smile with the brightest twinkle in his eyes Ron had ever seen, and then stepped through the gate, losing himself to the feeling of eternity.
XxXxXx
Twelve Years Prior
Ron tossed and turned in his sleep, trying to find a comfortable position on the matress, and a part of his mind whispered to him it was due to the fact he was used to sleeping on a bed in the teacher's quarters of Hogwarts. But he had never been to Hogwarts, let alone the teachers portion of the castle, so that was an odd thought. Definitely one that was influenced by a lack of sleep. After all, who would want to be up at six in the morning under their own power?
"You are," a familiar sounding voice said, "at least, you used to be, in one sense of the word."
Ron shot up out of his bed, whirling around to look at what was going on, and wondering if he should try to reach for the old wand he had been given for the upcoming school year. It wasn't like he knew what to do with it, but maybe it would come in handy in scaring this person off.
"Oh, come off of it Ron. Now sit down so we can talk. I know this is strange for you, but maybe you'll trust me more if I remind you that I know how you pulled that prank on the twins a few weeks ago?"
Ron blinked, "How do you know that? Everyone thinks it was Ginny who got even with that souporglu stuff in their underwear." The voice laughed, "Right, about that. Watch out. They'll figure it out soon enough if you don't get rid of the bottle from under your bed. Now sit, enough of this silly talk, this is important."
Ron sat down numbly, not sure why he was listening to this odd disembodied voice. "Okay," he said, "now what?"
"Now you listen. I have to tell you some things you will like and some things you definitely will not. To begin with though, I should explain what I am doing. You know plenty about magic thanks to your family, right?"
Ron nodded. "Good," the voice said, "Now, I'm sure along the way you've heard of a time turner. I won't go into details exactly what I did, but some pretty powerful magic was used to control time, and you we part of the casting of it, along with the greatest wizard of both of our times, Albus Dumbledore. I guess you could call me the memories of a you that existed over a decade from now."
Ron's eyes widened, "Sweeeet. I get that good that I can work with him?! I've heard all sorts of things about him, I even have a bunch of his chocolate card frogs, do I get to be on one of those too?!" Ron heard a sigh, though it was laced with some laughter, "Well, what you did definitely deserved a chocolate frog. But a lot of the work for the time spell was done by Albus, though you did your fair part, so don't feel cheated. Nevertheless, we had intended to send my consciousness back to merge with yours, and while Albus counciled this might happen too, it wasn't what I was expecting."
He nodded, listening to what the voice had to say, slowly turning over what he said in his head. An older version of himself had used some pretty powerful magic to send his thoughts back in time, and now he was talking to him about it. Thinking about it a few times, something clicked, and he felt his anger begin to burn bright and hot. "Wait! So you tried to take over my mind?!" He shouted.
"Don't yell! I don't want you to be found out, damn it. Think what you want to say, at least. And no, that's not what I was hoping for. I worried a lot about what would happen exactly, to be honest. It was a possibility I would take over completely, and trust me, I didn't want that to happen. But it wasn't very likely. Honestly, I'm happiest with this solution. I'll probably even fade in time, so I am no longer so dominant in your mind, though that's only a guess. You'll have to speak to Albus for a better theory."
'I still don't trust you,' Ron thought to himself, 'you wanted to take me over, what kind of sick thing to do is that!'
"I forgot how stubborn I could be at this age," the voice said with a bit of frustration. "Look. I am going to show you something that will hopefully prove to you that I did this for a reason at the very least, okay? You will be unable to see most of it, and don't even ask what happens in those portions of my memory. There are some things you will never want to see, and that is one of them. Now, I need you to trust me at least a small amount to try something, can you do that?"
Ron didn't really trust the voice much, but saw little way out of what was happening, so he nodded. A moment later he felt his jaw clamp shut, and as much as he tried to open his mouth, he couldn't. Before he could panic, the voice was speaking to him again. "Don't worry. I expect you'll want to scream a bit seeing this. I am trying to spare you the worst parts, but it is still pretty bad. I need to understand though, so let's get this Quidditch game underway, shall we?"
Ron felt himself blacking out for a moment, and as the feeling passed, he was looking up at a monster. The man had pale white skin, and sunken red eyes that seemed to glow as they bore into him as it smirked. All around him was a ring of blackness that he couldn't see into, though on occasion he could see men and women standing in black capes with white masks as they darted in and out of the memory. The worst part though was the boy in the center of the ring. He looked like he had been hurt really bad for a long time, and his bright green eyes were dull, which made him look slightly insane.
Despite the mounting horror he himself felt, he could feel an anger in the body he inhabited, and he saw an arm rise up holding a wand. Just below the wrist was the scar he had gotten when he was seven years old, and he could see the red hair in the corner of his vision. Somehow the thought that it was really him standing in front of that monster like man made him suddenly unable to control his panic, but there was nothing he could do to stop the memory. He sat there watching himself fight the creature his memory kept taunting, calling him Tom, and even once Voldemort. Standing before him was the monster that invaded his nightmares, and it was worse than he had ever imagined.
Eventually his older self had gotten caught in what was some kind of curse that made even Ron ache as just the memory crossed over to him. Eventually he saw the other boy move, and when he did, the scar on his forehead became clear, and Ron gasped as the real Harry Potter stood up and slew Voldemort, ending the memory.
As he came back to himself, he felt how hoarse his throat felt, and he knew he had been trying to scream as he was forced to watch that memory. Ron couldn't help it, and began to cry. Letting big tears run down his face as he shook from the force of his sobs.
"I'm not one to be comforting people," the older Ron said, "but that was the end of it. I left off the worst of it as well. A lot of bad things happen, and eventually that boy you saw will kill himself. Driven mad by losing everyone he cared for except for you, and overexposure to the cruciatus curse. That snake hurt him so bad that he couldn't see any reason left to live. And that was only one person. He did that to hundreds and hundreds of wizards, and an untold number of muggles. Do you see now why I came back?"
Ron couldn't stop shaking, 'How did you fight against that thing? That thing wasn't human! All I wanted to do was go hide, yet you were so brave.'
"It's not that I was brave and you're not," the voice explained, "it's that I've come to terms with how to handle my fear. That man did a lot of things to hurt me, us, as well. He took away a lot of important people to me, and one in particular I will never be able to get back. I guess you would see it in terms of Voldemort," Ron winced at the name, and he felt a brief sense of displeasure from his other self. "Don't do that. I had to grow out of that before I was able to do anything worth a damn, so I won't have you continue acting that way. Now, I was saying at your age you can see him as a bully. He's a big tough one, but if you never stand up to him, nothing will get done about it. Besides, I had the Weasly temper to help me until Harry could do the rest."
"Now, I know I am going to make some hard requests on you, but I think you'll find a lot of the things I want to change to be pretty agreeable. The hardest part is we need to work on your temper. I am not going to lecture you like an adult, because you and I are the same person, and I remember what it was like for you at that age, but we need to curb it a bit. It caused a lot of problems. Mostly I will not try to change you, just give advice here and there, and make sure we can change what happens in the future. Is that okay with you?"
Ron nodded, 'I guess so. You're only trying to help people, and Mum and Dad always want us to do the right thing. You know this is sort of odd though, right?'
The voice laughed, "Good thing to see I still have the Gryffindor spirit. But you have no idea how odd it is for me. I get to play Jimney Cricket to my eleven year old self, when I'm a cranky Auror with a penchant for swearing and getting depressed. How fun."
Ron's eyes widened, "I get to be an Auror! SWEET!" He half yelled again.
"Yes, that's all great and all, but do me a favor and not tell half the world in the middle of your little mood swings? Now, what day is it?"
"Saturday, why?" Ron asked.
"I mean the day of the year," Ron's older self said, "I have something I need you to do to get things off to the right start."
"Ummmm, okay." Ron got out of bed and checked around the mess near his desk, pulling out a small wizarding calendar he had gotten for his birthday two years ago. On the front was the date July 31st, and information about important events from before the roman empire flashed across it. "So, seems like Albus was spot on with the day," his alter ego said, "shouldn't be surprised. Now, I need you to go downstairs and get Mum to take you Diagon Ally. All you need to do is tell her this..."
A moment later Ron was running down the stairs, and poked his head around the corner to see his mom making a fry up for breakfast. Ron suddenly got nervous about what he had to do, knowing he was going to be giving the twins pranking rights on him for the rest of summer if they heard him. But the image of what he had seen earlier made him stand a bit straighter, knowing that the voice of his older self obviously had some reason for this.
"Mum," he started, and Molly turned around, staring down at him. "Mum, you know how I'm starting Hogwarts next term, right?"
She smiled down at him, "Yes dear. I seem to remember telling you how proud we are of you quite a few times over the past weeks. Is something wrong?"
Ron looked down and scuffed his shoes together, "Well, I know you're busy and all, but I was hoping we could go today to get at least some of my school supplies. I know you wanted to go next week, but um, I'm worried about how I'll do there. I kind of want to get a headstart, you know?" Ron could feel his cheeks flush under the proud look his mum was giving him, even though he reblled at the thought of actually studying over summer holidays. If anyone heard him, he would never live it down, but the voice was right, since it seemed to be a better argument against the matriarch of their family, because she seemed thoughtful.
"I do have some free time as soon as I finish this, but Ron, most of the things we're going to reuse from your brothers. So if you want to study, I can go get them for you now dear." Ron started to nod, but stopped when he heard his older self curse.
"We need to go to Diagon Ally today. Tell her that you want to pick up some extra reading material, and that you'll use what you saved up from helping the Lovegoods clean up last summer. Or was it the summer before last? Either way, just do it. And stop moaning about your bloody pocket change. This is more important than some extra sickles. If you do it, I'll even help you find a book I know you'll love." Ron nodded, and took a deep breath.
"But Mum-," he asked, and she shook herself, breaking out of her thoughts to look down at him again, "there are some books I've heard about I want to find. Ya know, for extra reading and stuff. I also think I need a day away from the twins, so please? I promise to be good. I have some money saved up, so it's not that bad."
Molly frowned but took off her apron and sighed. "All right, Ronald. Just go get dressed properly and come down to eat. I'll take you to Diagon Ally after we've eaten."
Ron grinned, and ran upstairs to do as she asked, making his way back down to tuck into his meal. The voice in his head had grown pretty quiet, though, and he could vaguely feel it's presence shifting in his head, like it was uncomfortable.
"What's wrong with you," Ron asked.
"I missed her. She may drive us barmy at times, but you know you're lucky to have a mother as caring as her, right?" Ron ducked his head, feeling his cheeks redden, and he avoided the odd stares of his brothers, 'She's kind of bossy, and never let's us go anywhere,' he thought at the voice.
"Do you remember your uncles, Gideon and Fabian? The ones killed in the first reign of Voldemort?" Ron shook his head to show he didn't.
"Exactly. She just wants to keep you safe. I still find her a bit tiring as well, but she means well, so don't forget it. I don't expect you'll understand until you get a bit older, and hopefully it won't take living through what I did to see it." Ron kept eating his food, though even his appetite was a bit slowed by the uncomfortably deep thoughts his older self kept pushing on him.
Ron looked up when he felt someone poke his arm with a fork, and he jumped, spinning to face a grinning Ginny. His siter stabbed a sausage from his plate, eating it before he could complain. "What's wrong with you Ron?" She asked, "Normally you'd be on your fourth helping, and I know for a fact that's only your second."
"Just thinking," he said, and his sister looked skeptical. "Mum's taking me with her to Diagon Ally today, guess I got distracted." Ginny still didn't look convinced by his lie, but she leaned in to whisper into his ear. "Let me come with you."
Ron stiffened, "No way! I need to do some stuff, and I don't want you getting in the way," he whispered back furiously.
"Actually, she should probably come too. Besides, you're not going to win this argument, mate." The voice said to him, and Ron ignored it. Ginny's eyes narrowed, "Oh really? Should I tell the twins who really put the superglue in their shorts? Because while they may be scared to prank me back, I don't think you would be quite as safe anymore."
Ron stared at her in abject horror, and he mentally cursed the voice laughing in his head telling him he had told him he wouldn't win. "Fine," he said, "anything but letting those two know it was me, please."
Ginny smirked at him, and took a piece of toast from his plate before sitting back and engaging the two pranksters in idle conversation.
The rest of breakfast was as entertaining as always, and the twins seemed to be on their best behavior, judging by the fact that Percy's plate had only tried to bite him once. As their brothers got ready to spend the day however it was they did without prank victims around, he and Ginny stood by the floo until their mom was ready to leave.
Taking a pinch of floo powder, Ron went first, "Leaky Cauldron," he said, stepping into the whirling floo network. A moment later, he stumbled out onto the floor of the back room of the small London pub. Moving out of the way, his sister and mother followed shortly after before Molly whisked them to the back alley and opened the way to the magical street for them.
'So,' Ron thought to himself, 'what is it you wanted me to get anyways? Some dusty old books won't help much right? Why don't we go to this one shop I saw before. They sell stuff for Aurors, so you could teach me how to use them, right?'
The voice sighed, "You wouldn't know how to even hold half the things in those shops. And besides, that stuff is useless junk anyways. You'll meet people at hogwarts who will show you that a book can come in handy, shocking as it is to hear that. But we're here to meet someone. So just go into that used book store, grab a few things I tell you to, then stall for time. I'll let you know when it's time to do something different."
Ron frowned, but didn't argue. If he was going to have an Auror in his head, then he might as well listen to what he said. The voice obviously knew what he was talking about, even if he didn't care for the idea of actually being willing to enter a book store.
He followed his mom past a group of children near his own age standing on front of Quality Quidditch, and he had to fight the urge to run over there as his mother drew further ahead.
Ron entered the old bookstore, and instantly broke off from his mother, wanting to experience a small amount of freedom by exploring the back shelves by himself. As he passed shelves, he received a running commentary about the various types of magic and how useful they were to him as an Auror. The deeper he went into the store, the more ecotetic the books became, and even his older self was confused by some of the titles. Ron felt his appreciation growing for the books after hearing of some of the things he could learn in them.
Eventually Ron worked his way back up towards the front of the store, grabbing a ratty old edition of some training excercises for Aurors his older self had said he would love, as well as a book on basic charms and transfiguration. Making his way to the front to pay, he saw an orange book sticking out underneath a pile of quidditch related texts. Fishing it out, Ron grinned widely, and for the first time he and the older voice agreed completely on something, and he placed 'Flying with the Chudley Cannons' into his basket. He wasn't sure why a brand new, and bloody brilliant, book like that was so cheap, but that just made it all the better for him.
Making his way to the counter, he payed the man, handing over almost all of his sickles to pay for his books while his mother wasn't looking. The clerk smiled at him and shrunk them so he could carry them in his pocket before he made his way over to where Ginny was thumbing through a book on hexes and curses.
"You know," he said, "mom wouldn't like it if she saw you looking at that." Ron grinned conspiratorily at her, and she smacked his arm, "Prat. I just wanted to see if I could find a hex Bill taught me. Supposedly it does this wicked thing with bats and someone's bogeys. I can't wait to try it out, but I still am too young Mum says."
Ginny frowned, and Ron just scratched his head, not sure what to say. "Well, maybe next year? Until then we'll just have to stand against the twins with more normal means."
His sister gave him an evil smile, "You mean I prank them and you get blamed for it? I like that arrangement." Ron spluttered, "Hey! That's--"
He was cut off by the return of his mom, and Ginny quickly shelved the book. "Come one you two, we should get back to the Burrow. I am hoping to start on some cleaning before the day get's on much longer. Do you have everything Ronald?"
Ron nodded, and Molly began to lead them out of the building when he remembered what he had been asked to do. He was about to try and ask if they could stay just a little longer when his mum bumped into what had to be the largest man Ron had ever seen. He had to be over eight feet tall, and with the biggest beard he had seen.
The man placed a hand on his mum's shoulders, helping steady her before he looked at her a long moment and grinned widely. "Molly Weasly? Is'at you?"
His mom grinned, and wrapped her arms around the waist of the man, "Hagrid! It's wonderful to see you again! What brings you to Diagon Ally?"
Hagrid grinned widely, "Jus' helpin a new student. Come outta there, Harry. Say hello to the Weasly's. One of tha kindest Wizardin families you'll ever meet." From behind Hagrid stepped a boy about Ron's height, with jet black hair, emerald green eyes, and the scar he had seen in his memories. Ron's eyes widened, and he felt a smug bit of pride from his other personality.
"Just remember," it said, "he may be famous, but think of the memory. He's had anything but an easy life, and look at him now, he looks like a bloody broomstick." Ron nodded absently, still staring at the boy as his mom lightly slapped Hagrids arm.
"Enough of your flattery," she said before kneeling down in front of Harry. "I'm Molly Weasly, Harry. It's a pleasure to meet you."
The boy offer his hand out towards his mum, "Harry Potter, ma'am. It's nice to meet you." Ron heard a gasp next to him, and turned to see Ginny completely frozen as a blush started to creep up from the collar of her blouse and stain her cheeks red.
Ron was about to make a joke when he felt Harry's eyes move towards him, so he turned to face the other boy. "Name's Ron. Nice to meet you mate. I've heard alot about you, is it true what they say about you know who?"
Ron felt the voice in his head sigh, and he wondered what he had done wrong. Harry looked down at the ground, not answering and looking incredibly embarassed about something. His mom turned on him, "Why Ronald, I never thought you would be so rude."
She turned to Harry, "I apologize for Ronald here, Harry. You're name is rather well known, and he sometimes doesn't think before he speaks." Harry nodded, and Ron felt his blush begin and spread as far as his ears. He looked down at the ground as well, "I'm sorry there, Harry. I guess that kind of slipped out."
Seeing a hand fill his vision, he looked up to see Harry smiling at him a bit, offering his hand as well. "It's fine," he said, "I guess I would be curious too if I were you. No harm done, yeah?"
Ron grinned, and grasped the other boys forearm, and they shook. He was about to ask a question when he felt someone touch his back, and he saw Ginny hiding behind him. "What's wrong Ginny? You're not acting like yourself." Ron jumped when she pinched him, and he turned around to glare at her.
Realizing she was now without cover, Ginny stood there, cheeks deep crimson and staring at the ground. Harry looked at Ron, and he shrugged, "She's usually pretty fiesty. Don't ask me."
His mum placed a hand on Ginny's shoulder, but smiled at Harry. "Don't mind her dear. I think she is just a bit surprised. She used to love hearing stories about you."
"Muuuuuum," Ginny whined, and Harry scratched his head, looking pretty embarassed by everything. "Well then, why don't you say hello properly dear."
Ginny looked like she had been told to go in front of a firing squad, her whole body stiffened, and it was only with a gentle push from mum that got her moving at all. She held out an arm straight out from her body, and Harry took it lightly, shaking it and looking unsure of what to do. "Ginny," she said before stepping back and hiding behind mum again.
His mother looked between Ginny and Harry, and the voice inside of Ron's head seemed to find something incredibly funny about the exchange. 'What,' he thought at it, and he could hear the laughter die a bit.
"Don't worry. You'll understand eventually, took me bloody well long enough. It's a damn good thing I came back, I haven't laughed this much in a long time. But on to business. You see that Owl Harry has? Why don't you offer to write him. I bet you would find somethings to talk about. I get the feeling that once Harry learns of Quidditch, he'll be a pretty good flyer, so maybe you'll have something to chat about."
Ron got the feeling there was more that the voice wasn't telling him, but he had accepted that there would be a few things that his older self would try to push on him to improve things. He wasn't dumb, and he recognized that he obviously wanted him to become friends with the boy who lived. Normally he might rebel at the thought of being told who to be friendly with, but somehow he didn't mind it now, and he guessed that was probably part of the reason his older self had made him meet Harry before asking this.
"Umm," he said, interrupting the farewells his mother and Hagrid had begun to exchange. "I couldn't help but notice you have an owl there, do you mind if I write you or something? It'd be nice to have a friend my own age besides Ginny here."
Harry looked at him oddly for a moment, like he wasn't sure what to make of the request. If anything, he seemed to be shocked at the thought, and Ron wondered what was so strange about trying to make a new friend. He wasn't very good at this sort of thing, and hoped he hadn't bolloxed it.
"Yeah," Harry said as a smile grew on his face, his eyes twinkling, "I'd like that, Ron." A moment later Harry and Hagrid began to walk away, and Molly turned to face him, before kneeling down and engulfing him in a hug that left him gasping.
"Geeze mum, not in public!" He shouted as she released him, but she ignored him as she wiped at her eyes, "You were just very mature Ron, and I can't tell you how proud I am of you. How about we stop for ice cream before we go home?"
Ron smiled, but then stopped as something hit him. "I feel kind of bad getting something like that after meeting Harry. Did you look at him mum? He was a right mess."
She frowned, "Indeed. I think I'm going to have to ask your headmaster a few questions later. But that's no reason you shouldn't be rewarded for what you've done. Now come along."
Ron followed after her, and he couldn't help but feel a bit good about himself after receiving her praise. He also couln't help feeling good about how proud of him his older self was.
XxXxXx
A/N:
I hope everyone enjoyed the first chapter. I assure you, I have some ideas for the plot that will explore some very different possibilities for the Harry Potter world. I do not care for stories where the knowledge of the future gives the character an unfair advantage, as that seems to stack the odds in favor of the hero too easily. The voice, which will receive it's own name soon enough, will not hold him by the nose in order to solve every problem. Besides, after the first big change, his knowledge of the future will be of very little good to him.
Please do review. I appreciate the feedback, as it tells me what I can improve. I do not mind negative comments, so long as they are constructive. Also, if anyone cares to beta this story, it is very much appreciated. I borrowed the services of my beta for another story, Falconrok5, and owe him greatly for his assistance. However, I do not want to place too much work on his plate. So anyone who can help me with this story is quite welcome.
Now, I hope everyone has a safe few days. The next chapter is well on it's way to being posted, so I hope to see you again soon.