Hello everyone! I am DreamingOwl and I welcome you to Without Ron, a study in one of the 'could-have-beens' of the Potterverse, had one particular event, which you will read shortly, happened. This is a story that has not been planned out entirely but I hope to do so with the copious amounts of free time I have this summer. After the summer, well, then we'll see.

This story is not betaed. It will be read by friends of mine, but as I'm the one known for being the best at English out of all of us, how much they will catch is questionable. Should anyone like to beta for me (and I would love you dearly for doing so) please PM me so we can work something out.

Thank you, and enjoy (and review, I would hope)!

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear that I am not blonde or British and therefore not JK Rowling. That being said, the Potterverse does not belong to me.

Prologue

It was August 28th, 1981. The sun was shining as Molly Weasley picked up her youngest son, leaving her sister-in-law in charge of the rest of the children, to visit St. Mungo's. Her baby needed a vaccine against Sprite Sickness, a common malady in young children that caused them to float randomly and turn green, before finally leading to them shrinking and then dying. Mother and son walked down to the edge of their property and then the witch stuck out her wand, summoning the Knight Bus.

It was an uneventful trip as the woman stuck her chair to the floor and her behind to the seat before rocking her son who screamed for food. He was going to be such a strong boy, otherwise he wouldn't need as much food as he did, more than any of his brothers had ever demanded. Yes her ickle Ronnikins would be a strong, handsome boy one day, just like his father.

When the bus arrived at the hospital she departed quickly, forcing her way through the crowded streets towards the old department store and walking up to the manikin. "Hello, I'm here to get a vaccination for my son."

The hideously dressed dummy nodded and beckoned with its jointed finger. Molly stepped through the glass, into a busy room crowded with witches and wizards suffering form various maladies. Dodging a man whose head was stuck inside a caldron, she stood in line at the Inquiries desk to ask where to go. It should be the second floor, but the room changed and it was ever so hard to find at times.

She was second in line when the first scream erupted from a woman who a moment later fell to the ground, no longer with a throat. Molly tried to apparate, despite the dangers to her child, but realized the Death Eaters had made that impossible. Her wand was out before her thoughts caught up and she held her son close as she began to fight a mask. It was nearly even, although she was on the defensive, and hope to survive stuck in her throat. All she had to do was stay safe until the Aurors arrived.

Then a crimson red spell coming from another fight shattered her shield and the next thing she knew two spells impacted her at once.

She woke to the concerned face of a young mediwitch leaning over her. "Ma'am, are you alright?"

Molly blinked up at her confusedly before her thoughts re-ordered themselves. Ron's vaccination, the death eaters, being hit by two spells...

Two spells, one of which had been bright green. "No," she whispered, "No!"

"Ma'am?" The woman looked at the red haired witch.

"My son," Molly looked around, "Where is my son?"

Slowly, her body protesting and her head throbbing she stood. When had she gotten against the wall?

"Ma'am, what does your son look like?" The witch asked, grabbing Molly's arm as she stumbled.

"Red-haired, but he's just a baby, a seventeen-month-old. Blue eyes," she smiled out of reflex, "just like his father."

"Oh," the mediwitch's face fell and Molly grabbed her arms, the smile disappearing.

"Where's my baby? Is he alright?"

"Come with me, Mrs..."

"Weasley, please where is he?" She felt almost numb, her brain now focused on one thing. Two spells, one green, but she wasn't dead. She wasn't dead, but Ron wasn't with her. Where was Ron? He couldn't be dead. He was with someone, playing. Probably demanding food and his mummy.

She was led, almost in shock over to an area where stretchers were being set up. "Please Mrs. Weasley, stay here, a healer will look at your head. I'll go look for your son, okay?"

Molly nodded, but the action sent a sharp pain through her head. A mediwizard came over and stood behind her, speaking swiftly. She gave him short answers she didn't remember a moment later. Where was her baby?

The healer left once her head was fixed and she'd taken a potion- disgusting as always- leaving her sitting there anxiously. She was about to get up and hunt for her second youngest before the mediwitch returned, an older man wearing the insignia of a senior healer on his robes.

"Mrs. Weasley, please come with me," the senior healer said as the younger woman nodded encouragingly.

"You'll take me to my son?" She asked, standing.

"Yes Mrs. Weasley," the man led her to a table in another part of the main floor which was being used... she looked carefully at the beds... as a... oh no.

"He's dead," she trembled.

"Please Mrs. Weasley, can you confirm this is your child?" The man uncovered a small lump on what looked like a desk. Her young boy lay there, silent as he almost never was, as he shouldn't be. He was always lively, chasing after his brothers, hugging a teddy bear tightly to his chest.

"No, no, no, no!" She began wailing. "Not my Ronald, not my Ronald, should have been me, should have been me, my fault, my fault!"

"Mrs. Weasley, is there someone we can call? Your husband, ma'am?" The woman hugged her, attempting to guide her to a chair. Molly shrugged her off and clung to the desk with white knuckles. How could he be dead? How could her youngest son, her precious ickle Ronnikins, be dead? These things, they happened to other people, not her. How could he be dead?

"Mrs. Weasley?" The woman repeated and Molly looked at her with tears streaking down her cheeks. "Your husband? Where can we reach him?"

"The, the Misuse of, of," the word slipped her mind and she struggled to find it, "Muggle Artifacts office," she shook, "at the Ministry."

"Okay Mrs. Weasley," the mediwitch nodded. "Why don't you sit here," -when had a chair been brought?- "and I'll call him."

"Al-alright," she nodded, then sat in the chair, staring at the still body of her son. No, it wasn't alright. How could anything ever be right again?

The Daily Prophet: 29 August 1981

Attack on St. Mungo's!

By Edward MacDougal

In an attack that has shocked and horrified the Wizarding World, yesterday Death Eaters appeared at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Just after eleven in the morning, 15 Death Eaters apparated into the hospital and immediately put up wards against apparation and portkeying.

Aurors were on the scene less than 20 minutes after the attack began, but not in time to stop 10 deaths and 37 injuries. Ronald Weasley, the youngest son of Ministry employee Arthur Weasley (Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office), was killed as his mother, Molly, fought to protect him. Mrs. Weasley was one of those injured in the attack, but is now physically okay despite being in mourning for her son. Also killed were Neville Fudge, brother to Junior Minister Cornellius Fudge (Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes) and Grimwald Jorkins, nephew to Ministry employees Stamford Jorkins (Press Office) and Bertha Jorkins (Improper Use of Magic Office). We at The Daily Prophet send our condolences out to all the families who lost loved ones yesterday.

The Aurors captured three Death Eaters, despite most portkeying away as they arrived. Earvin Travers, age 21, Rabastan Lestrange, age 25, and Adam Jugson, age 27, are now in custody. Trial dates have not yet been set.

For a complete list of casualties from yesterdays attack, see page 3

For a list of the memorial services to be held for the victims, see page 5