Something deep inside Ron felt violated as the room exploded in a burst of sickly green light. It was not the first time he'd seen the killing curse. The Death Eaters had sent several his way during the disastrous escape from number 4 privet drive after all. But this was the first time he'd been so close. Even in the brief time it took to travel from wand to victim, some deep animal part of Ron recoiled from the wrongness of the spell. Finally he understood why it was an unforgivable curse.

The body of Sidero slumped in her restraints and all was silent. Ron couldn't make himself move, couldn't draw breath, couldn't blink. To do so was surely to invite the same fate as Sidero.

Gradually the oppressive atmosphere receded, but Ron knew that from that day on, he would always feel it lurking in the quiet, living in the back of his mind. Some part of him had felt death, and would never be the same.

Hermione drew in a shuddering gasp and the dreadful silence was shattered, "Oh Harry, what have you done!"

Ron couldn't remember Hermione ever looking so scared before, her whole body trembled and Ron knew she felt the same visceral horror that he did.

Ron swallowed, his mouth dry, looking between Harry and Hermione. His hands felt sticky and a cold sweat was crawling down his back, "Harry… mate… what…" was all he could force out.

Harry let his wand hand drop to his side and his eyes met Ron's, "If it helps… It never gets any easier. If there was any other way..."

"Harry, do you remember when the two Death Eaters found us after we escaped the wedding?" Hermione asked, her voice brittle.

Harry's face stretched into a forlorn sort of smile, "I do Hermione," said Harry, "we could have killed them, Merlin know's they deserved it many times over, but we didn't. Even when I fled Private drive on the back of Hagrid's motorcycle I only disarmed them."

Hermione's eyes welled with tears, "Y-you're not really our Harry anymore are you?"

Harry sighed and seemed to wilt, "No, Hermione, I don't think I am. But I need you to trust me for just a little bit longer. I may not be the same Harry but you have to believe me that we want the same things. I will defeat Tom and I will protect as many people as I can."

"This isn't protecting people, Harry. This is murder!" Ron found himself shouting.

"Don't you think I know that?" said Harry tiredly, "I wish I knew the words to make you see… No it's better this way. I don't think I could stomach being able to talk you into this," he sighed heavily then shook himself and pulled out his battered pocket watch, "almost seven minutes," he muttered to himself. Then he turned back to the limp form still bound to the chair.

Ron grit his teeth, his hand white knuckled on his wand. This was wrong, this was wrong, this was so damned wrong. The Harry he knew would never have been able to use that spell, the spell that took his parents away from him.

Hadn't Ron made a promise to Harry, a promise to himself.

His mind flashed back to that horrible night when he had abandoned Harry, abandoned Hermione. The boiling resentment that had clouded every thought, the desperate desire to do something, anything.

The rage had boiled away to nothing in the cold sea winds of Shell Cottage. All that was left was the loathing, the all consuming guilt. He'd made a promise. He would never let Harry face the world alone again.

But this wasn't Harry was it. Harry all but admitted it and if Hermione thought something, then ninety nine times out of a hundred, it was right. He didn't owe the man in front of him his loyalty.

This man was a murderer, something that Harry could never be.

A promise.

His wand began to rise. He leveled it at the back of the killer's head. He thought of the Harry that had been with them on the dragon's back, the Harry that hadn't spent the last thirty odd years reliving the same hellish day over and over. He could get him back. Surely he was still in there somewhere.

A promise.

"Obliviate!" he cried.

His wand bucked in his hand and suddenly he was holding a spatula. Ron blinked at the cooking utensil in his hand dumbly, his brain unable to make the leap. His wand, what had happened to it?

"You're a good man, Ronald Weasley," said Harry as he knelt in front of Sidero's body, "But I've planned every moment of this day out for years. Petrificus Totalus."

Ron's body froze completely and all he could do was watch helplessly as Harry turned his wand on Hermione bound her just as completely.

"I'm sorry guys, I really am, but this next bit is going to take all my concentration and I can't have you interfering."

With another negligent flick of his wand, Ron found himself sitting on a comfy couch besides Hermione. Then Harry waved his wand in the air and a piece of paper appeared. Text, as if written by some unseen hand began to cover the paper.

Once complete the paper folded itself up neatly and floated gently through the air and glided into Hermione's pocket.

"Hermione, this is very important. No matter what I say after this, you must read that letter as soon as you can. It will explain everything."

Ron saw Harry fumbling at his collar and a moment later he was holding the Snitch Dumbledore had bequeathed him. Harry gazed at the thing, as if trying to see through it, "Dumbledore was a strange man… He had a plan, an insane one but amazing for all that. When I figured it out for the first time… it was like reading the book all over again. How I raged."

Harry's eyes shot up from the Resurrection Stone, darting between Ron's and Hermione's, "but in the face of eternity I began to understand. Far worse things than death indeed."

The fragment of the Philosopher's stone they had come for was now floating over The Resurrection Stone. Then the final slither of Flammel's famous invention began to melt in mid air. Harry, a strange glint in his eye, orchestrated the whole thing with Draco's wand held loosely in his hand.

The liquefied stone was a deep red and Ron couldn't think of anything but blood. It spiraled down and joined with The Resurrection Stone, filling in the cracks.

Harry looked back up at them, "The soul is an interesting thing… it took me years to really start to feel it you know. I figured everything was reset whenever I went back. But the soul, my soul remembers. Can you imagine what you'd see if you could look upon my soul."

Harry turned the stone over.

"Souls, they run like water. You put water in a cup, it becomes the cup… After all this time, my soul, has become something new."

He turned the stone over a second time.

Ron watched on in horror as the man who looked so much like his best friend pressed his wand against his chest and there was a moment of unearthly, horrendous silence.

He turned the stone over a third time.

And then Sloan Sidero drew in a single desperate breath and raised her head to stare at Potter.

Her eyes were now a startling green.