This based off 'Fame', by 'Belle's Noir', since I wanted to continue his/her story. Please read theirs first, since this one will make more sense that way.

Ronald Weasley watched his youngest daughter, Molly, run out of the house giggling. She was ten, yet still held onto childish things with an iron grip. Ron supposed she got that from her mother, Hermione.

It wouldn't be too long though before Molly got her letter and would be off to Hogwarts.

Ronald sighed. "Where did the time go?"

Hermione heard the sigh and came up behind her husband, wrapping her arms about his middle, knowing just what he was thinking about. "There's nothing we can do about it, you know. Everyone has to grow up at some point or another."

"Yeah..."

They were silent for a few minutes before Molly came back into the house, her face bearing puzzlement.

"Mummy, Daddy," she asked, fingers playing in her long red hair. "Why is there a boy asleep in our yard?"

The question caught the two completly off guard. They lived at the original Weasley home, vacated over the years as Ron's siblings grew up and packed off. The nearest neighbor's was about ten minutes away by car, and even they stayed away from the 'odd folk'.

"A boy?" The father asked, not sure if he had heard right.

"Yes! A boy! He came out of the sky and talked to a little light for a while, then fell asleep next to the shed!"

The two parents looked at each other in wonder. Why would a boy land his broom in their yard, if just to sleep? A runaway?

"What kind of broom was he riding, Molly?" Hermione asked. If its a nice one, he could be a thief on the lam.

"There was no broom, silly! He flew on his own." the answer came out of the little girl's lips as though it should be the most obvious thing in the world.

The adults broke into a smile, sure that their youngest had imagined it.

"Sweetie," here Ron got down on his knee, eye level with the child. "People can't fly without brooms."

"Hmmf! Come see then!" she ran out of the house, stopping just shy of the door's stoop to beckon eagerly.

Hermione silently volunteered, leaving her husband in the house to tidy the kitchen a bit. Being Muggle-born, Hermione had insisted that magic shouldn't be used as a tool for lazyness, and made the family do chores 'the muggle way'.

Setting a plate in the cubboard, Mr. Weasley's mind drifted. Ginny's birthday is coming up, we should probably think about getting her something. But what would she like...

He was shaken from his thoughts by his wife and youngest of three returning to the house, the littler of the two grinning smugly. "I told you there was a boy!"

Ronald blinked in confusion, searching his wife's face for clues.

But she was ashen, and sat down heavily on the old, worn couch.

After sending Molly to bed, Ron followed his wife outside, to the strangest of sights: a boy snoozing on their shed.

He seemed familiar, but the man wasn't sure where he knew him from. The child seemed about thirteen, making him more of a teen than a boy. He wore rags patched with leaves, deeming that he had been on his own for a bit, his hair frizzing all about. Ron gently leaned over to brush some from the lad's face, in hopes of clearing the identity question.

As his fingers crossed the boy's forehead, to the left side, he stopped, shicked at what he found.

A scar, shaped like a little lightning strike.

Ron and Hermione looked at the face in wonder.

"Harry?..." they whispered together.

They hadn't seen their friend in twenty years, not since he had disappeared from Griffindor tower one night, not taking anything too noticeable with him; not even his Firebolt. The Wizarding world had gone insane when 'the boy who lived' had vanished into thin air, right in the middle of the Triwizard Tournament. The Trace had shown nothing, not any spells used by or on the boy that night, and all devinations had shown nothing. The tournament had continued nonetheless, ending with the deaths of Cedric Diggory and Fleur Delacoeur by Viktor Krum, who had been enchanted by minions of the Dark Lord, who had died later due to lack of blood from Harry Potter.

Ron had felt badly when the possesions had been left to him (no one wanted to let muggles have them) and the broom had never been flown after its owner's...departure. He had always wanted to appologize to his old friend, to right his wrongs...but it had been too late.

Or so he thought.

The couple woke Harry and tried to talk to him as he rubbed his eyes, but a twinkling of bells silenced the adults. A small light darted out from the teen's shoulder; a fae. She twinkled at her friend, who hummed back.

Eventually, Harry noticed the two looking at him and his green eyes went wide.

"Wh-who are you? Isn't this the Weasley home? I'm looking for Ron."

Ron's stomach shedded itself and bounced at the mention of his name. "...I'm Ron...Harry? Is that you?"

The boy pouted a bit in annoyance. "You're not Ron!" he rolled his eyes in a joke. "If you're him," he said sarcastically, "then this must be Hermione!" he pointed to Tinkerbell, the fae. She twinkled angrily. "It was a joke, Tink." He whispered to her, scrunshing up his nose for an instant when she pinched him.

"Actually...I'm Hermione. Thirty-four-year-old Hermione. And this is Thirty-five-year-old Ronald Weasley." The woman butted in.

The teen looked from one to the other a few times, opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it after a moment.

After taking their friend inside, and giving him some biscuits and tea, the couple watched Harry as he offered some to Tinkerbell, who scoffed at the offering.

They had explained to Harry that it was twenty years after they had last met, but to their astonishment, he had accepted the news quite well. He had taken in all the past twenty years' news a bit badly though.

"Voldemort died?" he choked a bit on the tea.

"You guys have kids?" his biscuit came back out of his mouth and into his hand.

"But just where have you been then, Harry? And why aren't you any older? And why do you have a fairy with you?" Hermione asked, her eyes betraying her eagerness for answers.

"I went to Neverland!" the boy grinned, but then it turned into a frown quickly enough. "No one liked me anymore, and I had had enough of those stupid 'Potter Stinks' badges, Sirius didn't bother about me, and the Dursleys abused me, and...and..." tears spilled down his cheeks.

Hermione rushed in to give him a hug, but Harry seemed to disappear as she almost touched him. Looking about wildly, Ron gave a cry as he found his friend- floating about the cieling.

"Don't bother!" Harry yelled at them, angry. "I just came to get my Firebolt! I had hoped that you wouldn't get it Ronald" (the man flinched at the anger his name had been said with) "But I decided to check here first anyways. Seems I was right. I don't even want it anymore, I only wanted it for a laugh." He flew out the door and into the night, chased by the adult versions of his former friends.

Ron ran to the shed and shoved in the door, breaking it open. He pulled out the broom and ran down the lawn after the boy, taking a few tries to finally get off the ground. He followed Harry across fields, passing over a city for a few moments. Finally, the two landed, and Harry hexed Ron lightly (he would have done it harder, but he had had forgotten to practice).

Harry screamed at the man, swearing, crying. But Ron just grabbed him and hugged him tightly, until Harry started hiccuping.

"I *hic* didn't enter the tournament." he sobbed.

"I know Harry. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

They sat in the field for the longest while, apologising to each other, finally making up.

The two came back at daybreak, much to the relief of Hermione.

Harry fell asleep on the couch, and the couple watched him for a bit, wondering what to do next.

"I ruined his life...he would have grow old with us...I was stupid and ruined everything for him..." Ron admitted shamefully. His wife rubbed his back in small circles, until she had an idea, and ran to the closet, pulling up a few floorboards. Tinkerbell followed the woman, and toyed with the chain of the trinket she finally pulled out.

"The Timeturner...maybe?..."

She brought the item back into the living room and set it around her husband's neck. She gave him a long kiss, permission given for the task ahead.

Ron looked at the tiny hourglass in wonder, before realizing the plan. He quickly went up the stairs and quietly entered Molly's room. He patted her head and gave her a long look of love before returning to the downstairs.

Hermione and him embraced one last time, then she tapped her wand on the turner, which wizzed about furiously, turning back twenty years' worth of rotations. As Ron started to disappear from the living room, he gave one last look to his sleeping friend, and hoped he could make a difference.

Epilogue: Ron did manage to set things right. He set small clues around his younger self that eventually induced 14-year-old Ron into making up with Harry, who ended up never meeting Tinkerbell. As he faded into non-existance, the smile on Harry's face when the two friends made up made the man smile himself, finally forgiving himself for leading the Boy Who Lived astray.

I know that this makes everyone seem OOC, but this just ran through my mind so angrily that I HAD to write it. It came out kinda off, but I'm happy enough with it. Its based off 'Fame', by 'Belle's Noir', since I wanted to continue the original, due to his/her story ending with Harry's departure from Hogwarts via Pixiedust.

I own nothing! Rights belong to other people! All these characters belong to somebody else! T_T i wish they were mine though...