A/N: My second fanfic, but I still want you to be kind! To warn you, although this is mainly written in the genres family and supernatural, there will still be some romance – as in slash. So I would really appreciate it if you didn't flame because of the pairing (feel free to flame for the grammar, spelling, plot, etc.). Please tell me what you think, I need all the advice I can get!

This story is dedicated to midnitemood, who is amazing and who was the inspiration for this entire plot (or what I have tried to make into a plot...)!

Main Pairing: Lee Jordan/Ron Weasley

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Please do not attempt to sue me; I have a relative who's a lawyer!

Summary: Ronald Weasley discovers he is a Cursed and that the fate of his loved ones depends on whether or not he's willing to face up to his heritage, and the consequences if he does…

Warnings: Alternate Universe, Book 7 Disregarded, Character Death, Sexual Situations, Slash and Violence.

Rating applies to later chapters, as do most of the warnings.

Thanks to talley67 and midnitemood for reviewing!

Sorry for taking so long to update; I have been at my cousins' for the last few weeks and although they assured me they had a computer, it turned out they didn't have internet access.

1997 in 1984

It was the summer of 1984 and, although no one knew it yet, the child named Ronald Bilius Weasley was about to get a glimpse into 1997.

"Night, Ronnie," Bill yawned as he all but fell into bed, giving his baby brother a sleepy smile.

"Night, Bill!" he replied, eyes fluttering shut.

The moon slipped behind the clouds and shadows filled the room, in the same way a different form of shadows began to fill Ron's mind. He twitched furiously but his four-year-old resistance could do nothing against fate. The darkness devoured him.

Hundreds of miles away, in a headquarters stationed underground, a cauldron began to bubble.

Ron stood at the foot of a stairway, watching as people all around him clashed wands. Many of the faces were half-shrouded by the darkness and no one looked familiar. Screams echoed in the room along with curses and charms. Ron tried to shrink back to the wall on his left, but he couldn't feel the reassuring solid beneath his fingertips no matter how hard he tried to move.

Everything seemed to slow as he caught sight of a male redhead, mere metres from where he was standing. An aura of love and compassion surrounded the man, but Ron knew instinctively this man could be ferocious and frightening. He was torn between attempting to back away from him and attempting to run forwards and embrace.

The man glanced in his direction, looked at him, looked straight through him, and Ron saw it, just for a moment: a flash of his thirteen-year-old eldest brother. This Bill was taller, broader, but behind the cold mask of anger Ron could see the ready smile and consoling eyes lingering.

A terrible, bloodthirsty howl rang out just before a monster of a man leapt on his startled elder brother. A cold feeling of dread snaked up Ron's spine.

However, the element of surprise didn't benefit the man for long. Bill's nostrils flared, his mouth scowled, his eyes darkened. Ron dared to hope he would be all right.

That illusion soon shattered.

Ron couldn't tear his eyes away as he watched the man with the long yellow fingernails pin Bill to the ground and rip the wand from his grasp. The man licked his lips slowly, sensually, as Bill thrashed about underneath him and Ron couldn't understand why no one was rushing to Bill's aid.

Time seemed to freeze there and then. The huge man with long limbs and otherworldly strength flowing through them, with his delighted smile, his cat-like whiskers, his triumphant expression, crouched over Bill, preparing to strike. The man bared his teeth, saliva drooling from the corners of his mouth, stretched out his nails and Ron squeezed his eyes shut.

Not even that could protect him. The haunting sounds of ripping and tearing crowded the room, along with Bill's agonized cries…

If Ron had possessed the power to move at all, screams would have been spilling out of him, tears would have been gushing from his eyes, his fists would have been clenched. As it was, all he could do was listen as the noises faded and timidly open his eyes to find himself in another place altogether.

Ron stood in the corner of a sunlit room that had been emptied of everything personal. All that remained were a wooden desk, a large mirror with hieroglyphics decorating the edges, a lot of shelves and a couple of chairs.

Another redhead stood in the centre of the pale orange carpet, with his back to Ron, gazing around slowly as though trying to take a photograph of his surroundings and store it in his mind.

Ron noticed the small vial cowering with a note at the back of a low shelf at the same time the man did. Still with his back to Ron, he strode over and bent down to pick them up. A flicker of unease rippled through Ron, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He tried to take a step towards the man but his feet wouldn't obey. He wriggled frenziedly, but found again that he couldn't move at all.

The man glanced round, almost as if he'd sensed his presence, and Ron felt the scream of horror bubble up in his throat at the sight of the scars curving across the previously handsome face. The man – Bill – looked straight at him, through him again, and stepped in front of the mirror. The sapphire-blue liquid sloshed around beckoningly and Bill stared at it for a few moments, entranced, before he read the note, raising his eyebrows in surprise. At last he smiled – a small gesture that distorted his cuts and emphasised their angry red shade – and slowly, carefully, tipped the liquid into his hand and applied it to the slashes.

Ron expected his eldest brother's face to melt away, to explode, to freeze… but nothing like that happened. As he looked on, captivated by a mixture of terror and intrigue, Bill smiled again, this time looking as though a tremendous weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and walked past Ron and out the door. His face didn't look different, not by much, but Ron had to admit the wounds didn't look quite so dark and open.

That image dwindled away to be replaced once more – this time Ron stood in a gleaming white ward gazing at an equally white bed. Ron shivered as he stared round the hospital. But that was nothing compared to how his breath caught in his throat when his eyes settled on the motionless figure in the bed.

The person looked painfully pale and the thick, glowing hair had been reduced to lank tendrils. The scars that plunged across the exhausted face were rimmed with black. Red liquid was just visible in the gashes and seemed ready to flow out like lava.

Ron felt bile rise in his throat but managed to force it down. His last thought before consciousness claimed him was that someone must really hate Bill.

In the woods, somewhere in the north of Scotland, four teenagers slept peacefully in a tent. Nearest the entrance was a redhead with long, graceful limbs and flowing hair. His pale skin looked luminous under the moon's rays and his intense blue eyes were concealed under eyelids and long eyelashes. This teenager began to stir as a red glow pulsed in his necklace. His eyes snapped open and Reynold Septimus Weasley cradled the pendant in his hands with a sigh of resignation.

"Yes, Damon?" he spoke into the jewel as though it would answer him – and it did. The irate face of his commander came into view and started to bark out the co-ordinates:

"United Kingdom, England, Ottery St Catchpole, 20th July 1984, 10:34pm-"

"Is it Ron?" Reynold cut him off urgently. Behind him, the other three gradually woke, groaning and rubbing their eyes before freezing guiltily when they caught sight of Reynold.

"That isn't relevant," Damon snarled. "Just get to the Burrow and do your duty."

"Wait, what-"

"Premonition," Damon answered. "Now hurry up before the whole damn household discovers." He gave his deputy a warning glare and disappeared.

Reynold stuffed the necklace back inside his shirt and turned to the blonde girl. "Sorry, Elvira. I'll make it up to you, I swear."

"Forget it, Rennie," she replied, smiling sadly. "Just go to your cousin before Damon comes and kicks your ass."

He whipped out his wand and was standing in a small, brightly painted (though the darkness disguised that fact) room in seconds. Two redheads slept inches from him, the smaller one tossing and turning and whimpering faintly. Reynold doubted anyone would wake up from that, but he still put Bill into an even deeper sleep, cast a locking charm on the door and muttered a spell that would muffle the most explosive of noises. This time looked promising: so far, the only awake Weasley he'd have to see would be Ronnie.

Reynold stepped closer to the bed, aching to wake the restless figure up and rescue him from whatever hellish vision was playing out in his mind. However, Ronnie did that himself: his eyes flickered open and he moaned weakly, tears slithering down his face. He itched to go forward and wrap his baby cousin up in a hug but, judging from the way Ron stilled and his eyes widened when he saw him, he knew it wouldn't be a good idea.

"Shush, it's okay," he soothed. "Please calm down."

"Are you evil?" Ron gasped out, drawing back although his eyes shone with fascination.

Reynold let out a low chuckle. "I hope not." He held Ron's gaze, comforting and non-threatening.

"You've got red hair like me," Ron said, switching his stare to the curtain of scarlet. His eyes held a trace of recognition that he seemed to be battling to remember.

"Well, we're family," Reynold replied, wanting to say so much more but not knowing the words. "And families look out for each other."

Ron nodded, digesting this, still looking wary.

"I can make your dream go away," Reynold said, tentatively taking Ronnie's hand, cursing the fact that he had to rush this and was more than likely scaring him.

His baby cousin's mouth fell open and he stared in awe.

"Really?" he demanded.

"But you have to tell me what happened."

Ron bit his lip, considering. "I saw Bill," he started, in a voice so soft Reynold had to strain to hear him, "but he'd grown, even bigger than Daddy. He got hurt 'cause of this nasty man who had yucky finger things and… and…"

"It's okay," Reynold interrupted, taking a chance and hugging Ronnie gently, being careful not to appear too intimate.

"I'm gonna go tell Bill," Ron announced, scrambling over the bed to where his brother slept. Reynold caught him quickly.

"Don't think that's a good idea, Ron."

"I saw an evil man who hurt Bill," he insisted. "I'm not gonna let it happen."

"It won't," Reynold coaxed, tightening his grip.

His baby cousin turned his puppy-dog eyes on him.

"Promise?" he said with his forehead furrowed in suspicion.

"Promise." Not a single body movement betrayed his lie.

"Okay," Ron nodded his acceptance and sat back. "Make the dream go away. Please."

He twirled his wand, murmured, and a shadow of silver seemed to glide from Ron's head and vanish into Reynold's pocket. He took a deep breath, and steeled himself for the next spell:

"Obliviate!"

Ron's bright eyes dulled and lost their piercing gaze. Reynold scooped him up in his arms and tucked him into bed, placing a tender kiss on his forehead.

"Night, Ronnie," he said, watching as his cousin's tense face melted into a peaceful one.

With a hushed, regretful sigh and a last look at Ron, Reynold took off the charms and spells he'd cast earlier and apparated from the room that reminded him so much of home.