HELLO!

So, I wanted to practice writing, and what better way to practice than through fanfiction? I thought about it for a while before I decided to write this story. It's a Ron-centric story because I actually like him as a character and I feel like he gets bashed on so much. So, here it is. My version of a Ron going back in time story. I was also inspired to write this story because of Chuchi Otaku's There and Back Again (Go read it, it's great) and all the other Ron-centric stories out there. Because Ron is great and he deserves some love.

Because this is me practicing writing, I don't really expect it to be that good honestly. This is the first time I've written a story in 3rd person, so there is going to be a huge learning curve on that. I also haven't ever written fan fiction based on an already established world, so please bear with me while I learn and figure out what I really want to do with this story.

The first few chapters of this story are going to take place after Ron leaves Harry and Hermione on the Horcrux hunt, so, although it is a time travel story it'll be a bit before he actually goes back in time.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy it! Also, if I make a mistake please tell me, and constructive criticism is very much welcome!

(I cannot promise a regular update schedule...)

Chapter 1: Regrets

In the past 18 years of life that he'd experienced there were many things that Ron had come to expect. He expected that if there was food he shall eat. He expected that playing chess was fun, no matter how good or bad the opponent was. He expected to go on at least one life-threatening adventure once a year. Even dying young was a possibility that he expected could happen to him. Especially considering that he was best friends with one Harry James Potter: trouble magnet extraordinaire. Dying and being reborn? This, he did not expect. There should probably be an explanation of what led to this point. Well, buckle in because you're in for a wild ride.

It all started when he made possibly the biggest mistake of his life. He was just so angry, bitter, and jealous. That demonic locket, the Horcrux, twisted everything. Fed on the insecurities he had tried so hard to keep at bay. It just kept whispering to him. Convincing him. You're not needed. They're better off without you. What do you contribute? You're just dead weight. Ron tried to keep the voices at bay, he really did, but he was weak... It sounds like an excuse and it probably is, but it's the truth.

The moment Ron left Harry and Hermione; he knew he royally messed up. He had apparated into a clearing he hadn't recognized. There were large broad trees towering above, and it really would've looked beautiful if he wasn't so preoccupied with his current situation. As soon as his feet had touched down on a solid surface, he was forced onto the ground by a searing pain shooting up his leg. In a blind haze, Ron wrapped his tense fingers around his left knee, the origin of his predicament, and came into contact with something he could only describe as "wet". He sucked in a sharp breath as the pain amplified in intensity from the contact and clenched his eyes shut yelling in his head for it all to stop. It took everything he had to swallow the loud tirade of curses ready to leave his mouth. He had splinched before, but never to this extent, at least conscious, and there were usually people nearby to help. At this moment? He had no one. Just himself and his misery. He ground his teeth together, refusing to succumb to the pain out of sheer stubbornness and awareness that he was still a wanted individual in a war-riddled magical Britain.

After a few minutes of labored breathing, he was able to get his bearings. Reluctantly he opened his eyes and looked down. What greeted him wasn't as gruesome as he had imagined it would be, but that was most likely due to his trousers covering the offending limb. However, he knew it wouldn't be pretty underneath. The washed-out blue of the denim was already beginning to darken and stain from the continuous flow of blood underneath the piece of cloth. Ron was not looking forward to dealing with that. Trying to push the pain from his thoughts he tore his gaze away from the ever-growing stain on his jeans and took in the surrounding area. Hopefully, with luck, his knee cap would be somewhere nearby, but he was never that lucky.

His head snapped to the right as he heard the sounds of rustling bushes. Survival instincts honed after months on the run pushed him to lift his mangled body off the ground and whip his wand out ready to attack or defend. Whichever one came first. Adrenaline began pumping through his system drowning out a bit of pain. He could hear his own heartbeat as blood rushed through his veins, which wasn't very helpful considering that it wasn't helping him concentrate. The noises continued to get closer yet it was difficult to pinpoint where it was coming from. It sounded like there were multiple people coming from different directions making it impossible to pick a direction to run in. He continued to scan the surrounding areas looking for a potential hiding area considering running was not currently an option, but unsurprisingly, there was not an area sufficiently covered to safely hide without walking straight towards the attackers or creating a loud racket. This was probably the worst scenario possible and somehow, he had found himself in the middle of it. Lost, injured, and multiple possible hostiles headed in his direction… Just his luck.

At this point, Ron could now visually see the bushes starting to move. His body was tense in anticipation and dread and he could only pray to Merlin that it might somehow be a friendly person or a lost Muggle or something. But he's Ron Weasley. Things never went the way he wanted them to. Breaking through the tree line a group of people slowly started to emerge without a care in the world. They were laughing maniacally and didn't seem to be aware of his presence just yet. This is my chance, he thought. I can take a few of them down, hopefully. And that would've probably been a normal Gryffindor's first gut reaction. Attack first and hope for the best and if you go down at least you took a few of them with you. But right then, something came over him. Yes, he was a Gryffindor, and yes, he had a temper that could rival a wet cat, but he was also a chess player. He was a strategist, although many didn't think that when they thought of Ron Weasley, but he did have a brain and, in this instance, he was planning on using it.

Find an opening. So, he waited. Waiting until he saw recognition flash in their eyes as they acknowledged that he did in fact exist and that he was standing in a random clearing in the woods. One by one the group of, most likely, wizards turned to him analyzing his appearance and sizing him up. Ron was doing the exact same thing to them.

The group consisted of five men. There was a man that could rival a troll with his big structure and height, the stupid look on his face as he took in the situation not helping with the visual. Next to him stood a man with no other distinguishable features minus his bright blonde hair. Then there was a small man with wiry brown hair. Besides him were two hulking masses of flesh with looks on their face that made them look dumber than the first troll of a man. It looked as if it physically hurt to think and take in the situation. Then, before he could do anything the short one with wiry brown hair took his wand out and flicked it in his direction. Ron's wand was ripped from his hands. Smoothing out his features to ensure the panic he felt couldn't be seen, Ron cleared his throat, gaining their undivided attention.

"Evening gentlemen," he offered with his best attempt at a friendly smile towards the group of men. "Fancy meeting you lot out here. Are you all camping?"

"Who are you?" Big and ugly number one barked. His wand was now pointed directly at my chest with an evil smile beginning to creep upon his face.

"Me? Well, I'm no one really important. Just out here enjoying nature. And what about you fellows? Enjoying a walk?" He tried his best to keep the quiver out of his voice to not ruin the casual nonchalance he was going for. He's not really sure how well it was working though.

"You a Muggle then?" The comparatively thinner one with the scraggly brown hair and crooked yellow teeth asked, his grin matching those of his companions. "Well, ain't this fun. Running into a Muggle out here. What fun we'll have…." His friends also seemed to share his yearning for torture. All their eyes lit up with malice, the sight sent a chill through Ron's body.

"Oh, no." He replied as calmly as possible. "I'm not a Muggle. Haven't seen one in a while, truth be told. Find it quite odd too. I thought there'd be more campers here. Must not be the right season for it."

"A wizard then." Ron looked over to see it was Blondie that talked. "What's your name then? Looks about Hogwarts age to me." He sneered maliciously, "maybe a mudblood on the run, hmm?"

"Bah, who cares? Just take him in then ask questions later. We can still have some fun." That was big and ugly number two.

"We can't, Boris. What if he's a pureblood?"

"What's a pureblood be doin' out here?" There was a moment of pause before they turned all their attention back towards Ron.

"Name?" the largest of them grunted.

"And why must I disclose that to the likes of you?" Ron sneered at them. He lifted his head up and looked down the end of his nose replicating what he thought would look like an entitled pureblooded aristocrat. "What are you, half-bloods? Must be if you lot are out here mucking it about in the woods."

"Oh yeah? And what 'bout chu? If you don't give us a name, we'll give you a reason to be screaming." Ron turned his eyes towards the one talking and scoffed lightly.

"I don't answer to the likes of you. But, if you insist, you must know that whoever you wo-"

"Crucio"

Apparently, he had taken too long. He was vaguely aware of once again dropping to the floor. He might've fallen on his knees which probably wouldn't have helped the injury already there, but he wasn't able to tell. The pain that coursed through his entire body merged together and drowned out any thought he had. The feeling of a million hot knives piercing through his skin was a sufficient distraction from anything else. He heard a vague screaming noise but he wasn't able to distinguish where it had come from. It was only later that he would realize that it was coming from himself.

He lay there in the ground withering for what felt like a lifetime before it stopped all at once. He could barely think in the aftershock of the pain. His breath came out in deep labored gasps ruffling the thin blades of grass that lay beneath him.

"Got a name for me yet?" Ron continued to lay there and forced himself to take more steadying breaths.

"I'm S-" and then the pain returned. Honestly, how were they supposed to get any information out of him if they didn't let him speak? Luckily, this time wasn't as long as last time. He heard the laughter as soon as he was able to have more coherent thoughts after the pain.

"Being a bit slow. Name. Hurry it up."

"Stan." He was able to gasp out of his sore throat. "Stan Shunpike." There was a rustling noise from their general direction.

"He on the list?"

"Nope. Not here."

"What's your blood status?"

"Half-blood" He breathed out hoping it was loud enough for them to hear. He honestly didn't know Stan Shunpike's blood status, nor did he know why he said his name. It was the first thing that popped into his head. He supposed he should be grateful that this group was stupid enough not to question the characteristic red Weasley hair.

It was then that Ron felt himself being dragged up by the arm. He was able to get a bit more of his bearings and saw that the largest of them had taken hold of him making sure that he didn't escape. In front of him, the four other idiots were going back and forth arguing whether or not he was actually telling the truth or not. He wasn't even really trying to understand the babble. Instead, he decided to discreetly glance around looking for an escape. The bloke holding him by the arm was big. He wouldn't have been able to take him on in a one-on-one situation, but that was if it was fair and if he saw his attack coming. He was still wandless, but the troll wasn't.

The idiot wasn't even paying attention to Ron apparently having grown a fascination at the ensuing argument. By the look in his eyes, he even wondered if there was a brain in that head. He looked back towards the other four and noticed that they were grouped more closely together than before. They were also a decent distance away from where he currently stood. Their voices were becoming more and more escalated, which would serve as a good distraction for when he took on the troll of a man. Out of the four of them, only two of them were actually holding their wands. Dumb was holding a piece of parchment which he assumed was the list of Muggles born and Dumber had nothing in his hands and was gesturing wildly to accent his poor argument. That only left Scrappy and Blondie. Scrappy was the one holding my wand. It was held loosely in his left hand with his own in his right. One easy disarming charm and he could be on his way. He'd just have to wait for the right time, and it just so happened to happen just then.

Dumber decided that now was the perfect time to take a swing at Blondie. Blondie threw away his wand like literally threw it away in the forest, and tried to swing back. It was then. With all the strength he could muster Ron swung his arm back and drove his elbow into the stomach of the troll. He dropped Ron's arm to grab at his own stomach. Swiftly ripping the wand from the troll's hand he pointed the newly reacquired wand at Scrappy.

"Expelliarmus!" He yelled with as much conviction as possible. Both wands in his hand escaped from his grip. Ron's soared in the air towards him while Scrappy's wand was plucked from his grip and tossed a few feet to the side. The second Ron's wand reached his hand he turned on the spot and disapparated.

He touched down and once again crumpled to the ground. It was wet and muddy. The rain was pounding and cascading all around him. The adrenaline continued to course through his veins and he couldn't hear anything except his own breathing and heartbeat. He stayed laying on the ground, but soon he was dragging his body off the ground. He knew that once the adrenaline left him, he would be in a world of pain. His knee continued to bleed profusely and he noticed that he had once again splinched himself. Thankfully this time wasn't as extreme as last time. Only two fingernails were missing, yet the blood spewing from the appendages would make it look like he had lost the limbs. Sitting up he tore two long strips of fabric from the bottom of his shirt. The piece of cloth had already been torn so it was fairly easy to tear. With one strip he wrapped it tightly around the two fingers, which is very difficult with one arm. Then he took the second wider strip and wrapped it around the fabric of the trousers around the knee. It probably would've been best to disinfect both areas, especially the knee, but there was no other option at the moment. The jean fabric dug into the open wound and he flinched at the sudden onslaught of pain. Ignoring the sting he tightly tied off the makeshift bandage in the hopes that it would somewhat stop the bleeding.

Finally, in a state that was more aware, he looked up and took in my surroundings. It looked familiar, even with the downpour of rain blurring his vision. Considering the number of different types of wooded areas he had seen so far this year, it's a wonder he could differentiate them at all, but the trees and ground looked similar to where he had disapparated from when he had left his best friends.

Pulling himself off the ground he knew he wasn't near where the tent was set up. It could've been in any direction and he would've been lucky to be able to find it, but he couldn't give up. He had to go back.

Ron walked for hours. He didn't know what he was doing or where he was going. They don't teach you how to navigate wooded terrain at Hogwarts. At this point, he was beginning to think he was getting delirious. The hunger and blood loss definitely didn't help any. It was also very difficult to navigate the dark, wet, and bumpy terrain with a very dim Lumos. He hadn't dared to strengthen the spell to a brighter degree in the fear of there being more like the people he had run into earlier being about. He also knew that there were others out here on the run and he didn't want to run into them either. At least it had stopped raining, and now as the early rays of morning light seeped through the trees, he only had to ensure that my treading through the forest wasn't too loud to attract attention. He made slow progress and every other step had hurt. His fingers had stopped bleeding, but his leg had not. It wasn't bleeding as heavily as before, but the constant agitation by the task of walking wasn't giving it a chance to heal. At this point, if there was something he had regretted more than leaving Harry and Hermione, it was his lack of knowledge of healing spells. You'd think after 7 years of him and almost everyone around him getting hurt he'd learn a few things to be able to patch himself up from bleeding out, but apparently not. If he ever got the chance, he was going to learn a few healing spells.

Ron stopped walking as he realized his train of thought. If… He shook his head vigorously. Not if. When. Think positive damn it. He's always known his chances might be slimmer compared to others in surviving this war, but it won't help anyone if he thinks like that. When.

He continued his trek through the land constantly repeating the word "When" in his head. When I go home… When I get back to Harry and Hermione… When the war ends… This was probably the only thing keeping him from falling to the ground. Then he heard it. It was faint and very distant, but it was there. Ron almost thought he had hallucinated it, but when he concentrated, he knew it was there for a fact. It was the sound of running water. He quickened his pace towards the sound and hoped that there weren't many rivers in the mass of land. He looked up into the clear sky and saw that the sun was directly overhead. It was about noon. Way past the time they would have already moved on by then. He could only hope that they had decided to stay for a bit longer, but it wasn't a strong hope.

He hobbled along until he felt like it was getting more difficult to walk. Looking down he saw that the ground in this area was considerably muddier than before. Up ahead he was able to make out the river. The banks on either side were overflowing with water as the river flooded. Making his way to the edge of the water he stopped and looked in all directions searching for where they had camped the day before. Soon enough he was able to identify the terrain, and seeing the area that would've been the clearing for the tent flooded with a small layer of water, any hope he had held onto had vanished into thin air. Ron plopped down onto the muddy ground, burying his head into his hands, not caring if he got wet or dirty. Where would they go next? Could I find them? What should I do? A million questions raced through his head, but he didn't have the answer to any of them.

Ron didn't know how long he had sat there. They were gone and he had no way of finding them. He was alone. He couldn't go home. Definitely not. Just even thinking about having to face them made his stomach turn. The disappointment and anger that he'd probably face if he went back. Of course, you'd leave them. Always was a prat, weren't you? You call yourself a Gryffindor? We knew you wouldn't amount to anything. NO! No, He can't go back there… but where else is there? He could try to tough it out on his own, but he doubted he'd last long. No supplies, injured, and no plan. That sounds like an awful idea.

He brought his head out of his hands and looked into the distance. Maybe… He couldn't go back to the burrow, but maybe, just maybe, he could go to Bill. He couldn't go to Fred and George's, that'd be worse than going back to the Burrow. Bill might just take him though. He always did have a tendency to be a mama bear being the oldest and all. He was always good to Ron. Just maybe. Worst case scenario he might even suck it up and go to Percy. But that's also a bad idea. He's with the ministry and probably still being watched. He was a prat but Ron wouldn't risk endangering him or himself. But Bill isn't with the ministry and the goblins could care less. Plus he has a new place next to the sea in the middle of nowhere.

With what little resolve he had he forced himself off the soft ground. He knew it was risky apparating again, especially since the last two times didn't end up too good, but this time he had a more concrete location rather than a vague idea of just getting away. Please. he thought to himself. Please work. And with that, he took in a deep breath and turned.