Ron looked at his watch as he lay in bed, trying to get to sleep but so far it was in vain.

3:33.

Ron sighed and listened to noises around him, which usually faded into the background; Neville's dragon snore, Seamus' wheezing, and Harry's mutterings and movement.

Ron smirked; his friends hadn't changed over the years, they still made the noises they did on the first night.

Ron turned to see Harry moving in his sleep, obviously disturbed by something in his dreams, Ron thought about waking him but decided he couldn't be bothered. Neville's chest was rising and falling heavily; Seamus' chest moved in time to his wheezing; and Dean's chest fell lightly, if you gave him a quick glance you might not think that he was even alive, but Ron could hear the boy's light breathing.

Ron turned back to staring up at the top of his bed and breathed out heavily.

All of a sudden, a cold breeze rolled in; Ron looked to see that the window was open.

He got out of bed gently and pulled it slowly closed, not wanting to disturb his dorm mates.

Ron got back into bed and looked back at his watch.

3:33.

Ron swore under his breath; the bloody thing must have stopped working, but it was old and expected. So he calmly got out of bed and walked over to where Harry's watch would be.

Harry's watch was new only this week and so Ron knew that it would be in perfect condition and the time would be accurate.

3:33.

Ron looked confused at the watch, rubbed his eyes and looked again.

3:33.

Ron tapped the glass gently, but yet the hands did not move. He swore again and moved over to Neville's.

3:33.

Ron wondered why everyone's watches had stopped working, but maybe it was something to with something he probably wouldn't understand. He shuffled back into bed.

Ron laid his head back down on the pillow and began to listen to his dorm's soundtrack.

Nothing. Silence.

Ron sat up and looked around, maybe the boys had learned to sleep silently for once in their lives. But there was no rise or fall of sheets, even Harry had stopped moving. He seemed to be stopped halfway through a thrash.

'Bloody hell! What the fuck is going on?' Ron wondered if this was some prank of the Twins but he knew that they would never do one at 3 in the morning, they loved their sleep.

A cold breeze rolled back in again. Ron walked over to the window to find that it was shut, just like he had left it.

He turned around to see a black, hooded figure behind him. Ron jumped back and yelled, before slapping his hand over his mouth; if the boys woke up, this figure might get them too.

'There is no need to be scared Ronald Weasley. There is nothing you can do to hurt me.' The voice was deep and echoed around the room; Ron had just grabbed a quill and was pointing at the figure defensively.

'W-who?' Ron tried to sound calm but failed; he stuttered and his voice was no more than a whisper.

'Surely you know who I am.'

Ron looked at the figure and paled.

'Grim.' Ron uttered; it was not his time yet.

'Yes Mr. Weasley, it is your time.' The Grim read his mind.

'I'm too young to die!'

'No one is ever too young to die.'

'But how do I die?'

'Natural causes, you just die.'

'What?'

'It happens, for no apparent reasons, people die.'

'And it gives you a bloody job.' The Grim gave a spine-tinkling chuckle. Ron shuddered. 'So what happens? Where do I go?'

Ron had made his way past the Grim to go back and sit back on his bed.

But there was someone in it.

Him.

There he was, just lying there. His face was paler than usual but otherwise he looked the same; no blood or strangle marks, just him.

'That's me...?'

'Well done.' Replied the Grim sarcastically. 'Smart aren't you?'

'What? I don't und-.'

'Of course you understand, you're dead and I'm here to tell you.' Ron pinched the bridge of his nose, deep in thought; he couldn't just die like that. He was meant to die in battle, besides his friends and family, fighting against You-Know-Who or of old age... not just in his sleep.

'Look. You're not meant to die in those situations, your time is up. There's nothing you can do about it.'

'Can't I say goodbye or anything?'

'No.'

'So where do I go?' Asked Ron nervously after a few minutes; he knew he couldn't get angry; he was talking to the Grim Reaper.

'Firstly, I'm not the Grim Reaper, there's a few of us.' Ron gave him a confused look. 'Look, 2 people die every second and 120 every minute; do you really think one thing could have a conversation with all of those people? Even death isn't that powerful or quick. Trust me, when you have to tell people that they're dead, they do like to have a little chat.' The Grim sounded so bored and fed-up. 'And because of this bloody war you're having, there's even more dying, which means even more work.' Ron nodded at the Grim, hoping to get on his good side.

'Look, when you do this job, you don't have a good side. And no, I won't stop "reading your mind", it's my job.'

'Where do I go? Is there like a test or something?'

'Well, normally you'd go to heaven or Hell, but there's a slight problem with you.'

'Oh, what are they full?' The Grim chuckled at Ron, but this time Ron didn't get that spooky chill.

'No, you're just not ready to leave.'

'So I get to live?'

'No. We've already gone over this point, you're dead. But your soul isn't ready to leave Earth. So you've got a few choices. Number one choice, you become a ghost, that way your soul doesn't leave and is "happy". Now,' the Grim pulled out a clipboard and flicked a few pages. 'Lucky... you'd be able to haunt two places, one is Hogwarts,' the Grim waved its long sleeves – which Ron assumed were arms – around, signalling that he would haunt this place. 'And your family home,' the Grim's hood looked down, Ron assumed it was reading. 'The Burrow. Number two choices, you become a disturbed spirit and it's not as bad as it sounds.' Ron had started shaking his head when he had heard the word "disturbed". 'Unlike a ghost, you can't walk through walls, aren't see-through, that sort of stuff. You'd be like a person, just a bit paler and you'd walk the halls of Hogwarts and the place where you died – so here. But you'd only be able to walk those places at your time of death.' The Grim looked down. 'For you it'd be 3:33 every night, for an hour, and on full moons and on 31st of October, of course. There's downsides, you'd always feel empty and well...disturbed and you'd have a purpose that'd you'd have to fulfil, which might be to make someone's life better or help someone survive and you could only speak to that one person and they wouldn't be able to pass on any sort of messages... not many people go for that option... so you'd be rare. And if you were wondering what you do for the rest of the time or if you didn't fulfil your purpose, which I know you were, you'd be a sort-of dementor... yes, some of them are disturbed spirits; they're actually quite fun, once you get to know them.' The Grim turned a sheet. 'Oh, now I wasn't expecting that... and no, you can't live.' The Grim shook its hood. 'Now, not many people get this chance, you could become a Grim.' Ron's eyes widened. 'You tick all boxes for being a Grim; you're a wizard, a pure-blood, died at a young age, weren't murdered, have an "evil" streak – yes, you may not realise it, but you do – and could deal with telling people that they're dead. Basically, it says what it does on the tin; you go and tell people that they're dead and take them to where they're meant to be, answer questions and sometimes explain that they can't leave Earth... you know what a Grim is and does.'

Ron stood shocked for a bit.

'I have to choose now?'

'Yes.'

Ron considered each option in turn; this wasn't a quick thing, he'd be doing it for the rest of eternity.

A ghost sounded alright; he'd get to stay with his friends and could visit his family when he wanted, but there were a few problems. One, what happened when his family and friends died, he'd have no one; he could always look out for their children and their children's children and their children's children's children. Two, being a ghost was lonely and he'd be stuck like it forever, never growing up or changing.

'Erm, excuse me.'

The Grim turned its hooded face back from its notes.

'Yes.'

'Would I turn into a ghost in these clothes?' Ron signalled to the pyjamas he was wearing or lack of, the only thing he was wearing were a pair of boxers and a pair of comfy, worn, faded pyjama bottoms.

'Yes.'

'Oh,' Ron didn't really like the thought of wondering for forever in just his pyjama bottoms, but it could be worse; he could have been sleeping naked. The Grim must have read his thoughts and chuckled.

'It happened once,' Ron smiled.

Now, he wasn't even going to consider the weird spirit one; what if he got stuck with Malfoy or someone he didn't like? He'd spent forever having to help Malfoy. And being a dementor wasn't a dream of his.

Being a Grim...now that sounded better. He'd be able to meet lots of people, even if they were about to die. And it was different to just dying or haunting. But what if he had to tell someone he knew that they were dead; if it was Malfoy, it'd be alright, but what if it was his Mum? At least he'd be able to speak to a friend or family member and maybe if it came from him, it would soften the you-are-dead blow. But he didn't know if a hooded black cape would suit him and he liked having a face.

The Grim laughed.

'I've still got a face.' The Grim pulled down its hood and to Ron's surprise, there was a man's face.

The man had short brown hair, deep brown eyes, a square jaw and dimples as he smiled; he looked around 20.

'See?' And now that his hood was down, his voice was less deep and didn't echo.

'Yeah, it can be hard sometimes but I don't regret it. You meet other Grims and sometimes the people you tell are actually alright and understand that they're dead, others of course, go mental. But doesn't every job have a bad side?'

Ron looked at the man smiling at him; he did seem truly happy.

'That's 'cause I am and the mind reading thing is rather cool. And if you're worrying about family and friends, you can still see them... well watch them I mean. We don't just deal with death; we do life too and luck. You can quite easily check your friend's file – yeah, everyone in the world has a file – and see what they're up to, what their luck has been like, if they're expecting children, getting married and when they're going to die; you're allowed to do your friends and close-family if you're free when they die. You get slots off and you can check up on the files you want to and there's no limit on how many people you keep tabs on or how many times you do. It's quite relaxed. And you can be a dementor when you want... seriously, there's nothing wrong with being one. Your voice goes all funny.' The man threw back up his hood and became the Grim once more. Ron tickled his chin with the quill he had first grabbed.

Ron considered the two options he had left; a Ghost or Grim?

The Hall was deathly silent.

Ronald Weasley's body had just been found dead in his bed with no apparent cause of death. Even Slytherins kept their mouths shout, they may not have liked Weasley but they would have never wished him dead.

The door of the Hall opened and in skipped Luna in her bright mood.

'Hello.' She called to the Hall; some looked up and gave her dirty looks. 'Why is everyone so sad? Has a crackle-snap been wondering the halls?'

'No, Luna...Ron's dead.' Called Harry, he knew the girl meant to harm; Hermione began crying again when he said what was wrong.

'No, Ronald is not dead.' Harry gave a horrid, short laugh.

'He is Luna, his body is in the Medical Wing.'

'No, I saw him just a minute ago.' Harry shook his head at her. 'Yes, I saw him in the hall a minute ago.'

'What?' Spoke up Hermione, her voice was thick with crying.

'Yes, I saw him.' Hermione knew that Luna wouldn't lie.

'Where? Was he alright?'

'Ronald was in a long black flow-y cape,' she waved her hands around her waist, showing the "flowing-ness". 'And he was with another person wearing the same.'

Hermione jumped up.

'Where? Did he say anything?'

'In the Halls, I think he was going to towards the exit. Yes.'

'What?' She barked, desperate now.

'That everything was fine and that he would see me again but that it wouldn't be soon. Then he flicked up the hood and his face disappeared and he laughed. But it wasn't a nice happy laugh, it was like a spine-tingly laugh but it was happy... maybe he was going to visit a stripe-boxey-lot, they are rather funny and they-,'

'Miss Lovegood,' called Dumbledore from the teacher's table, he may have been old but he had an amazing hearing. 'You say he was in a black cape and he threw his hood up and his face went?' Luna simply nodded. Dumbledore smiled.

'I think that some of you will meet Mr. Weasley again but in more serious circumstances,' he announced to the Hall.

'Is he alive?'

'No, Miss Granger but he is not dead either.'