Fred and George were besides themselves in thought. They had dreamed of reuniting with their brother for years. But it never really crossed their minds that he just wouldn't know them. Or not even know they existed. Sure he was young when he was taken, but they remembered him. Their mum would feel nostalgic and talk about how they used to want to rustle with him. How they would pinch his chubby cheeks and he would giggle, unlike Ginny who was an infant at the time and hated her face being touched. They remembered that his eyes looked just like their brother Charlie's being blue and all, and that he had little freckles on his nose.

They remembered he loved to giggle at Bill's silly faces when he did play with them. Bill rarely spoke of those days.

They remembered he was a messy but big eater, Percy would occasionally think back and mention certain foods with both nostalgia and irritation, being a young victim to Ron throwing his baby mush.

They remembered their dad humming a lullaby to him when he got really fussy because Ginny was with mum so often. Small words slipping out into a tune he sung for them when they were sick.

They remembered their mum dancing in the kitchen with their dad on a rare quiet day, he would hold Ginny and she, Ron. Ron would lay his head on her shoulder and drift off to sleep as Ginny would giggle and coo before also drifting off with the swaying motions. Their parents still did on occasion, the movements practiced yet natural.

All contradictory to their breakfast and reuniting with their baby brother. They were excited. For once, they would have a meal with everyone around the table. Like they should be. Like they should've been for years. But Ron seemed to get uncomfortable with each passing moment despite them trying to take the pressure off of him by keeping their mum distracted that he wasn't talking. Both Fred and George were a little upset when he seemed to shy away from both Bill and Charlie.

And everyone's heart seemed to plummet with this. He tried to leave the table. His emotions were wild and fierce much like Charlie's did, full of passion if directed right. But Ron's was directed at them. His anger, his sadness, his uneasiness... His fear. How he stared at them, watched them carefully and acted slowly, reacted quickly. Their minds couldn't get rid of their mum hugging him, and he just stood their stiff as a plank of wood. He didn't cry. He just sort of... Shut down.

And that was something neither twin ever liked to see. Or think about now that breakfast was over with, and mum and dad had take to cleaning the table with hushed tones while Bill and Charlie talked to Ron with relaxed tones about what they did, waiting for Ron to make a mention about himself, an interest or other thing that they could use to learn about their little brother.

Cornelius Fudge walked into his workplace with utmost importance, clutching a rushed note from his secretary stating an overseas affair may occur if not dealt with immediately. He knew what she had mentioned from his many meetings of affairs from within Europe. An American badge from their higher up in government. This man had requested a meeting from him, mere hours from the joyous reunion of a mother and father with their long lost albeit, disgruntled son.

He would prefer meeting with the press, attempting to calm the individuals until they dealt with the kidnapper. He was nervous. American agents seldom came through and demanded his presence, more likely asking for the head of the Aurors in order to catch a criminal to be taken far back overseas. At least he assumed so.

Damn, he hoped his letter to Dumbledore would reach the man soon. Some advice would truly be appreciated before meeting with the Badge waving American.

But it was not to be as he stepped into the office where the American was waiting, sipping bitter coffee, lightened by either milk or cream. He had a smile on his face as he lowered his coffee and offered his hand.

"Minister Cornelius Fudge," he didn't ask. He just knew, "Phil Coulson."

"Ah, yes. You are the American?"

The man smiled indulgently, as if dealing with a small child or an ignorant individual.

"How astute of you. Please sit. We have much to discuss and I'm afraid no time for pleasantries."

Fudge sat behind his desk, trying to sit tall like the man across from him. The man placed his coffee down on the table next to him and pulled out a briefcase Fudge didn't notice before. Coulson opened it with control and meticulous movements. He pulled out a file, moderately filled with organized papers within.

Coulson's did not waver as he began to speak.

"I am here today to discuss your attacking of one of our Agents and his ward. Including, unlawful imprisonment and kidnapping of an American citizen."

"I assure you Mr. Coulson, we have done no such thing," Fudge declared confidently. There was no possible way that they had arrested an American agent and assisted in taking his child away. That would be preposterous. Maybe he wouldn't need Dumbledore's help after all. Though the man's terse smile was unsettling, and he wished he did have some assistance. Coulson didn't acknowledge his statement as he pulled a photo from his suitcase and showed the picture to Fudge. He recognized the picture. It was the same man in the paper this morning. The same man who had the Weasley's youngest boy. Oh this did not bode well.

"He was with his ward, his colleague, and his colleague's young ward to prepare his colleague's Ward for her upcoming year in Hogwarts," he explained with a misleading casual tone, "When your aurors began to attack our agent."

"The aurors wouldn't attack without a reason. And the boy isn't his."

"I assure you, his birth certificate declares otherwise."

"Birth certificate? The boy was taken from his family and has been reunited. If that man is your agent, you may want to inspect who works with you." Coulson's face turned grim. His smile evaporated from his face. His eyes hardened, pierced into Fudge's eyes with the accusation he made. There was a judgment being made.

"Our agent found Ron being carried by two figures, a man and a woman," Coulson began to explain in a controlled yet condescension tone, "Our agent had heard they had plans to kill him, so he killed one and injured the other, removing Ron from the situation. We held an active search for his biological family for five years. Not once did we come across any information regarding a family with a missing child of his description."

"Your agency kidnapped one of our citizens to America?" Fudge questioned, his voice not hiding his disbelief.

"Not kidnapped. Rescued. Your country failed to perform it's part in alerting beyond your community that a child was missing," he took a sip from his coffee, "We searched and gave him, at the time, a temporary identity. For all intents and purposes, he is an American citizen."

Fudge tried to come up with an arguement that would spark animosity or Merlin forbid, war. Oh he really wished Dumbledore had gotten back to him before he had to meet with this troublesome man. Especially when it seemed he would be dealing with the fate of a pureblood child.

"We searched for him for years. Agents were active in their search for five years. He was told he was born in England, and aware he was not our agent's biological progeny. He has been asked on numerous occasions. He has consistently answered he was happy to remain in America."

"Minister Fudge," a new voice interrupted, "Albus Dumbledore is here."

Coulson raised a brow at the minister. The man bumbled and sputtered a bit before looking back at Coulson. Coulson gave a look that summed up impatience.

But he was the minister. And this man had no prior appointment. Surely he could wait.

After all, their evidence pointed towards the man being a kidnapper. He had the kid and ran from the law. If he were innocent he wouldn't have run.

"Excuse me for a moment," he said standing up. Coulson's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. Fudge didn't look back as he went to meet with Dumbledore who thankfully would give some advise into the matter.

"Thank you for your assistance," a red haired woman gratefully choked out to a smiling older woman.

"Not a problem. Not one at all. I know if I couldn't get in contact with my daughter-in-law, I'd have been as panicked as you," the woman smiled knowingly. Neville was baffled seeing his gran so nice to a total stranger, and a nonmagical one to boot. She didn't hate them, goodness no. She just always thought they were a little queer and difficult to understand with their constant bounds and leaps in technology and language she, like many other witches and wizards, couldn't follow.

But he guessed his gran did have a soft spot for distraught mothers worrying for her child. Though this woman was a little odd. She seemed familiar but he couldn't place where. She had pale, creamy skin with no blemish in sight, her hair was a brilliant and vibrant red, brushed smoothly and having soft waves curving and shaping her face. In short, even a young eleven year old could tell she was pretty. But she was also kind of scary, like how she almost obsessively stared at people, waiting for one to enter the Leaky Couldron, nearly scaring his Gran half to death.

"You are a saint." There was no trace of a lie in her voice.

"Nonsense. Just an old mother, who understands the love of her child."

"Again, thank you."

"What are their names?"

"My husband Clint, and my son Ronald," she stated clearly as though she had said it hundreds of times before. Neville froze. He remembered Ron talking about his red haired aunt who both protected and cared for him. He then knew where he had seen her before. Back when Ron had run to his father, she was off in the distance. And he only saw her for a moment.

Neville didn't say anything however. If Ron trusted her, then he should too. Besides. If he was with her, he could find out what happened to his friend and his dad. He hoped.

"So a bar. I kind of like how these wizards think," Tony grinned, one arm around a surprised Bruce who stood next to Hermione. To their shock, the Iron Man, Stark the Snark, Tony had arrived popping into a bookstore they were in. Though how he found them, Bruce wasn't sure he wanted to know. Though he was more curious about the why.

He wished he didn't. He had to take many deep breathes to calm the inner anger from the other guy within. He didn't need the big guy. He didn't need the other guy. Though if Tony was right, then Hermione had to guide them to the Leaky Cauldron and into the society of magic. Bruce would not be following the eccentric man though. He was going to keep Hermione out of the danger and keep the big guy under wraps.

"Ah, Firewhiskey. Kind of curious. Hey! Bartender, give me a bottle."

Bruce groaned as Tony began confusing the bartender and gathering the attention of the patrons.

Ron begrudgingly had to admit, his eldest... Male relatives of his biological mother and father... Were actually pretty interesting. Goblins running banks, and using gold and silver and jewels, hidden traps and powerful spells. Dragons running fairly free and appearing majestic and beautifully intimidating. Charlie even had a few scales, offering one to Ron. Ron would've said no, if not for Charlie downplaying the value and showing enough for everyone in the house, he would have been able to deny. He settled on a thin and narrow scale, shaped similarly to one of his dad's arrow heads. It's color was near black with a slight glint of purple. It had a wire around it attached to a silver colored chain.

Ron didn't allow him to put it on him. He took it from his hand and opened the clasp, making sure it was connected before letting go. The scale rested right over his heart. Bill gave Charlie a look that the younger just shrugged off. The taller boy from breakfast Ron sat next to walked over, Percy Ron believed his name was, and sat down on one of the chairs in the living room. He looked at both Bill and Charlie with pointed looks.

"Mum and dad wanted me to tell you lunch will be ready momentarily."

Ron blinked. Hadn't they just had breakfast? He turned to look at the grandfather clock he had noticed when he had come down the for breakfast. Time seemed to standstill when he saw the clock. It didn't have the time. Hell it didn't have just two hands. It had what looked like spoons. Each with different faces on the end. Each with a name written beneath each face. Each person that was at the table was there, and an odd image that seemed so out of place among the others. A silvery spoon with an infant's image was attached. His eyes went from the image to the engraved name just beneath it, curved and beautiful. Ron.

Molly, Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ginny... Ron.

"Ron? You okay?" Bill asked putting his hand on Ron's shoulder. Ron turned away from the clock. Any chance he'd be hungry was gone as he felt stress and unpleasant emotions he couldn't identify. His hand spoon thing... Was on home. He swallowed attempting to move the lump in his throat to speak.

"Yeah. I'm... I'm..." He just couldn't finish. He shook his head and faced away from the clock. He didn't care what it said. This little place was not his home. Nor could it ever be without his dad.

So... new chapter. And I don't think you guys know this, but I am a little flattered and embarrassed. One of the readers of Son of the Archer, has mentioned that Son of the Archer is mentioned on a forum. And I am flattered. To those readers from Space Battles, it's nice to know you're interested!

I'm a little hyper and more than a little excited with what's to come as my beta sister girl could probably tell you. But sh!

This is going to be chaos. How many of you liked seeing Phil? I liked putting him in! PHIL! And Tony and Natasha are here. I think I've lost it a little. Though, at least I'm somewhat guided. I hope the spark of inspiration hits again soon. For you and me!