Hello, everyone. Thank you for taking the time to read this. This is my first tine writing this kind of fanfiction. I have written crossovers and pairing focused stories before (half written though)but this is my first time writing a general fanfiction with incorporating my own elements and ideas. This is huge for me and I must admit, I am very nervous. I will be basically rewriting the whole series in my way and with my ideas and ... god, I hope I can do this. Constructive criticism is always welcome. Flames are not. Anyways, hope you enjoy. Read and review, please.

Prologue

One doesn't have to be a genius or excel at everything to be a prodigy. No,what they need to be is passionate.. Because if you were passionate about something, if you could love it, you would actually be bothered to put some effort in it. More than some effort, actually. You would enjoy it, which would make you want do it more, just to see if you can accomplish a bit more or just to enjoy yourself or your victories. The cycle goes on and eventually you are hailed as a prodigy when you eventually master it..

This was the opinion – no, firm belief – of one Ronald Bilius Weasley. Now, this was not an unfounded belief. Indeed, it was his own family that helped him come to this conclusion. Not willingly, of course. Instead, this belief came from observing his family in those moments when nobody seemed to notice him, too busy with bragging about Percy or scolding Fred and George for a prank or something along those lines.

He couldn't bring himself to be annoyed (okay, maybe a little bit annoyed) by Percy's constant gloating or be angry at the Twins for all the pranks that they played on him, though the spider incident came close. He knew Ginny was sneaking the brooms out to practice flying discreetly, since none of her big brothers would let her fly. Ron always made sure to watch her, hidden from view, but he didn't tell anyone.

He knew that they were all brilliant in their own ways. Percy was always the top in every subject and he could study all day long without pause and he could memorize and retain information in a way that Ron could never hope to. Fred and George always liked to fool around, but he could see the brilliance in their pranks, even if he sometimes didn't like them, mostly when they were played on him. It couldn't be easy to mix so many aspects of magic and their own surroundings to for a coordinated and perfectly timed prank. And Ginny had more talent to spare than she let on.

Bill and Charlie were nothing short of geniuses in their own fields. He had seen Bill tear through advanced books of Ancient Runes so fast it made Ron's head spin. And people said Charlie could be a shoo-in for the Quidditch national team if he tried. Though, if the way Charlie interacted animals was anything to go by, he had something other than Quidditch in mind.

Even his parents! No one who ate Molly Weasley's home cooked meal would dare complain against it; it was simply that good. Ron had heard that she had been pretty good at Defense Against Dark Arts in school, always in the top three. And most people thought his father was an underachiever. They couldn't be more wrong. His father might not be as informed about the Muggle world as he would like, but his knowledge of charming and enchanting muggle objects far surpassed than anything Ron ever heard of. And as a son of the Head of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts, he heard a lot.

He could give countless other examples. Luna Lovegood, his sister's friend, had a knack for figuring out just what was wrong with a certain spell or a certain situation or even a person. Then, there was that muggle neighbor of his that wrote the most beautiful poems. The woman who owned the bakery, just five minutes' walk away from his home, could bake a mean cake.

The point is, everyone was good at something and everyone enjoyed doing something they were good at. Therefore, everyone, in their own way, was a prodigy at something.

That was what Ron liked to believe. Problem was, he couldn't quite figure out what he was his prodigious ability. Of course, there was chess. He loved playing chess and he was, to his surprise, very good at it. He could see, not only three moves ahead, but also the set of moves that could be alternatives and all the the moves and countermoves to said alternatives. He could sit in front of a chess board and play with himself in his mind all day long.

But what he couldn't really figure was how that would help him. He knew enough now to know that being brilliant at chess wouldn't help him much, not in terms of education and career, and in real life.

He frowned. It was times like these, when he was alone with his own thoughts, that his mind usually took more of such somber routes.

"Ron?" His sister's soft voice drifted from the doorway. He looked up and tilted his head to see her peering at him from behind the door. She smiled at him. "Playing with yourself again?"

He grinned. "It's not my fault that nobody seems to be able to compete with me."

"Prat!" she said, grinning.. "I bet Harry Potter could!"

He shook his head. His sister had recently bought the Harry Potter Adventures books. She hadn't even read through it and she was completely enamoured with the boy in the books, even though that boy most probably wasn't real. Really, what kind of a five year old went against an adult Dragon and survives? Even if the boy had somehow survived the nastiest Dark Lord to have ever lived…

That brought another thought to his mind. What was Harry Potter good at? Could he be good at chess, like Ron himself was? Or was he good at something else, like Defence? That wouldn't be much of a stretch. He supposed he would find out in a few years' time, when he went to school. Harry Potter was supposed to enter school the same year as he. It would be interesting, if nothing else.

A pillow smacked against his face bringing him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see his little sister hovering over him, a frown on her face that was eerily reminiscent to that of one Molly Weasley. He shuddered. His sister would be a force to be reckoned with when she grew up.

"Really, Ron. Don't get lost in your own head again. Come on, come on! I still haven't read the last chapter of 'Harry Potter and the Curse of the Clock'! Read it to me, come on!" she ranted as she grabbed his hand and started tugging with a strength that no one would believe she had given her size..

Ron didn't budge, though. "Why can't you read it yourself?"

"Because I'm feeling really sleepy and you know I can't read when I'm sleepy but I wanna know what happens next so you're gonna have to read it to me. Nobody else will. I wanna know if Harry really saved the villagers or not!"

"Ginny," he said, levelling a pointed stare towards her. "You do realise that all of those are rubbish, right? The real Harry Potter isn't going around the world saving people."

"Hmph! How do you know?" she huffed but didn't give him a chance to answer. "Anyway, it doesn't matter! I wanna know what happens next! Come on!"

He rolled his eyes and sighed in resignation. "Alright, Alright!" he said as he got up and followed Ginny, making sure to turn the lights off and close the door behind him.

He followed her into her bedroom and waited as she made herself comfortable on her bed before he grabbed the book from the nightstand, eying the cover. It showed an illustration of Harry Potter, a pale boy with black unruly hair and a lightning shaped scar on his forehead, hazel eyes glinting in the dark, standing with wand in hand with a broken Clock Tower behind him and a cloud covered night sky that was crackling with lightning all over. Really, where did they even get these ideas?

"What are you waiting for, Ron?" Ginny asked. "Come on!"

Ron sighed and pulled a chair beside the bed and sat on it. He opened the book to the last chapter and began to read.

"Harry made his way up the creaky, half broken stairs, wand clutched tightly in a white-knuckled grip, as his eyes darted around…."

He kept reading, until he heard the soft snores from his sister. A small smile spreading across his lips as he stared at her peaceful face. He ran a hand over her forehead.

He didn't what he would be good at, or if he could be good at anything(other than chess), and he didn't know what the future held for him. But he wouldn't worry about that now. There would be plenty of time later. For now, he just wanted to enjoy every moment with his family.

He sighed and closed the book. He glanced at the cover once again.

What was Harry Potter good at though?