Disclaimer: I solemnly swear that I do not own any of the Harry Potter greatness that it.

Chapter Two

Ron was sitting at the kitchen table, picking at his toast when Fred and George walked in. It was eleven o'clock, a few hours after Ron's "episode" that he had. The twins sat down across from Ron and looked at him. Ron did his best to avoid their gaze.

"Oh, buck up mate," Fred said, trying to be encouraging. "If it doesn't, I'll... turn myself into a ferret."

"For a week," piped up George.

"A week?" Fred looked at George incredulously. "Yes, yes, a week," he said quickly as George stomped on Fred's foot from under the table. He flashed a toothy grin.

"Uh-huh," muttered Ron as he got up and wandered outside into the garden.

"Maybe I should have tried a Puffskin," suggested Fred, shrugging, and helping himself to some kippers.

Ron was sitting on a garden bench, thinking about the past school year. He thought about Harry. It would be his seventeenth birthday in three days. Ron wished Harry was still around. Voldemort... Ron thought in disgust. It was his fault, all his fault. But he had already paid for Harry's death, with his own life. Voldemort was dead. Nobody could explain it really. Dumbledore thought that it might have been the connection that Harry and Voldemort had shared, and if he knew anything more, he didn't tell anyone. Once Harry had died, Voldemort suddenly became weaker. He just about laughed himself to death, the stupid git, Ron thought angrily. His thoughts soon drifted to Hermione. He smiled. Ron had always had feelings for Hermione, but he always covered them up with their petty arguments. Just last year he finally told Harry, and Harry just about had a fit. He had laughed so hard the he had fallen over and cried in hysterics. Ron had dropped the subject immediately, but Harry never passed up an opportunity to bug the mickey out of him about it. But now... What a convenient time, he thought. My best mate's dead and I'm thinking about a girl.

"Ah, forget it," he said aloud and ran back into the house, the corners of his mouth twitching into a broad smile.

Dear Hermione,
Hello! Hey! How are you? How are you doing? I'm doing
okay. How's your summer going?

"No... that... ack." Ron crumpled up the parchment and threw it in the garbage can, or at least attempted to. "Blimey," he groaned. He pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment, set it on his desk, and then got up to pick up the ball of parchment that was on the floor. He turned and headed back towards the table when he stopped suddenly and looked wide-eyed at it. The quill he had been writing with was now moving back and forth across the parchment. He rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't imagining this. He slowly walked up to the table and looked down to see and untidy scrawl that was all too familiar:

Ron, I've come to warn you that you're---

"Leaping Lizards!" Ron bellowed as he jumped back, knocking his chair over in the process. "Fred! George! Come here!" he shouted, running out into the hallways. "Fred! George!" he called again.

"Cheese and rice, what'dya want?" Fred asked as he apparated next to Ron. George appeared with a crack right beside them a few moments later.

"You've got to see... it's..." Ron started.

"See what?" Fred asked impatiently.

"Look!"

Ron pointed into his room where the parchment lay and the quill still scribbling something. A split-second later the quill stopped and dropped onto the desk.

"Very funny Ron," sniggered Fred, bemused. "But you're forgetting one thing, mate. We're wizards. D'you really think that we're going to believe something that cheeky? Who do you think we are, Gilderoy Lockhart?" George chuckled at this last sentence.

"No, look at what it says!" Ron grabbed Fred's arm and dragged him into the room. Fred stepped up to the table and read aloud:

Ron, I've come to warn you that you're in danger, Hermoine too.
Voldemort's still alive – he didn't die back in Godric's Hollow. He's
coming to get both of you. PLEASE be careful. Oh, and tell Fred
and George that I said hello.
- Harry

Fred looked up. "That's very good. What type of charm did you use? Because that'd be a good one in the joke shop."

"I didn't write it!" snarled Ron through gritted teeth. "I was writing a letter and I got up to throw something away. I turned back and the quill had begun to write on it's own."

"Yeah, I've just been appointed the new Minister of Magic."

"I'm serious!" Ron shouted. "Why won't you believe me?"

"I'm sure that Harry decided to write you a letter from his cozy little grave, since he has nothing better to do than decompose and all."

"Not funny." Ron looked down at his feet, his eyes starting to water with tears.

"Sorry," said Fred quickly. "It was a rotten thing to say, didn't mean it. It's just... ever since Harry, you know..."

"Was murdered?" finished Ron in a defiant tone.

"Yeah... Well anyway, you've been acting really odd, out of it and stuff. All the nightmares you've been having, and after that little episode you had last night. Mum and Dad can't really handle it anymore, and to tell you the truth, we can't either." Fred looked hurt.

"We want to help you, we really do," added George, sympathetically. "We just don't know what to do."

"Fine. If you don't want to believe me then don't. And sorry to be such a burden to you all." Ron stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

"Nice going, you stupid prat," snapped George, punching Fred on the shoulder.

"What?"

Ron was sitting in the kitchen drinking a Butterbeer. He was pondering over the note that Harry, whatever he was, had written.

I've come back to warn you... Voldemort's still alive.

Alive.... Ron shuddered. The whole prospect of the Dark Lord still being alive made him sick. But Voldemort couldn't be... He had died. IN the circle of Death Eaters at Godric's Hollow, Voldemort had died. Ron had watched him, had seen it with his own eyes. Even Hermione was there. Voldemort had killed Harry and had practically laughed himself to death. But, I've come back to warn you...? It didn't make sense. I've come back... Come back from where? Was it really Harry's ghost? Because, once you're dead, it's kind of hard to "come back". It was just very odd that he would get a message like that.

He sloshed around the remaining contents of the Butterbeer in the bottle and was mulling things over when he was interrupted by the appearance of Fred and George in the kitchen. They had an odd look on their faces and Fred was holding out a pit of parchment.

"We found it lying on the desk when we went back upstairs. We believe you," he said, handing the paper over to Ron.

In that same familiar, untidy scrawl he read:
Fred, George, please! You've got to believe Ron. You're
all in danger. Voldemort's back. You have to warn everyone
as soon as you can. Go to the Order of the Phoenix. And I
hope that this will convince you:
Fred, I know you've been seeing Angelina. I've seen you writing
to her all the time when no one's around. And you two snogging
all the time at the joke shop? Just because I'm dead doesn't
mean I can't find ways to amuse myself. Don't want anyone to
know you fancy her, eh? - Harry

) (
A/N: cliffies! Bwahahahaha!! Sorry. I'm just a cliffie freak. Hahaha. I hope you're starting to like it. = )

EyesofEmerald - thanks so much! My first reviewer... ::sigh:: you're too kind. = )