A tiny one shot that came from idontrememberwhere. I don't own any characters so I won't make any money.

Bill knew the moment he saw the picture of Ron and his new friends just how this would end.

The tiny boy with large eyes and wire glasses tucked between Ron with Fred and George standing beside them, a wry smile and his eyes locked on the strange girl in the front. George would lose his heart and Mum would grab hold of that little boy and she'd never let go.

He was her type. Thin and shy, the exact opposite of each of her boys. They all went through a slim phase but that was a growing kind of skinny, not a hungry skinny. He needed love and a good meal, that's exactly what his mother would say.

Seven years he read the letters. He listened to firecalls and heard his family talk when he came to visit. He met he kid himself and he was right. Harry was a Weasley so far as the twins or Ron cared and certainly by his mother's estimation. No, no one would ever say, "But he's not your son," to Arthur or Molly.

But he was a brave one, brave like they all tried to be, and he was no ordinary boy. Man, if Bill was honest. Even Mum couldn't keep him from his destiny.

Merlin did she cry. She cried for them all at some point with worry and fear but to lose Fred and then get back Percy and lose her youngest boy…Bill watched his father hold her and his heart ached in time. The little boy from the photograph had given himself up for the world.

There was a picture, he suddenly recalled. It sat on the mantle at the Burrow beside the Floo powder in his mother's prettiest frame. Hermione took it for them with her Muggle camera the year they'd gone to the World Cup. The year He'd risen.

It was literally a lifetime ago. So many lifetimes.

They'd all managed to be together then, even prissy Percy with his brand new Ministry job. His mum and dad stood together in the center, Dad's arm around her like they were still teenagers and all the mess of their children before and beside and behind them. Charlie had settled in the grass the same as he would have done as a five year old. The twins' faces framed Ginny's laughing smile even though it hunched their gangly frames almost in half. Despite themselves, Bill knew he and Percy were smiling and Ron was awkwardly posing for the Muggle device. Harry was next to him like a quiet shadow, Mum's hand on his shoulder. The one splash of black in a mess of orange and red.

And now they stood in a ruin of a school and the Dark Lord was coming to gloat his victory. Hagrid, sobbing, carried the body. Harry looked so incredibly small in those large hands. Bill realized for a moment that this was how his mother had always seen Harry. Her black haired baby, her littlest boy.

His blood pulsed with grief. Murderer, horrible murderer.

Harry's fingers twitched.