If Harry or Ron tell you I own them, I don't! Don't believe a word they say, because they're lying! Liars liars pants on fire!!!

Please note: if you still can not picture Ronald as ruggedly handsome, even as he ages, think of him as a red-haired Sean Connery. Does that help any? Heeheehee. Wait... did that just AGE me??? I'm 23 darn it! And I think Sean Connery is a good looking old guy! So there!

Chapter 9 – Death Becomes Thee

Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and Lydia were waiting for him after he had gotten out of the showers and had changed. As soon as he stepped outside Hermione pounced on him.

"What in the world was that?" she cried. "You could have killed him! Not that I'm all that fond of Malfoy or anything, but for goodness sakes!"

"Did you see him belt that bludger at me? It nearly knocked off my head!" Ron burst out. "Anyway, just shut up about it, already, all right? I've already been given the lecture from Madam Hooch. She banned me from the next game. Happy?" Ron stalked towards the castle, his friends in tow.

Harry moaned. "You're banned from the next game?" he repeated. "Now what are we going to do?"

"That same thing you did before I became champion goal keeper," Ron replied sarcastically. His friends followed him in silence all the way up to the common room. Sounds of celebration issued from the Gryffindor tower, and when Ron entered the crowd burst out into loud cheers.

"Hooray, for Weasley! Hooray for Weasely!" they shouted. They surrounded him, patting him on the back, and passing him a mug of butterbeer. A grin slowly spread across his face, which was looking quite scruffy from a three o'clock shadow shading his cheeks. Girls screamed and giggled, and joggled for a place next to him on the couch where he had been deposited. He looked over to Lydia and beckoned for her to join him, but she shook her head.

"I've got studying to do. Congratulations on the game, Ron." She left with Hermione and Ginny. Ron, however, was quickly distracted with a girl trying to feed him some candy. Harry watched his friend with mounting disappointment. Seamus moved up next to Harry.

"Wasn't it you that caught the snitch and won the game?" he asked.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever. I really don't care. I've got to work out that potions paper. See you around." Harry disappeared into the boys dormitory, still a little disturbed by Ron's behavior. What had happened to the old Ron? Gone the way of his sixteen-year old self, no doubt.

Ron didn't come up to bed until late. Harry pretended to be asleep, but he could hear Ron singing some Gryffindor fight song they had made up just an hour ago. Harry rolled over and shut his eyes. He heard Ron get into bed and eventually drift off to snoring slumber. As the minutes ticked by Harry's thoughts churned. What was happening to his friend? Were things ever going to be the same? He eventually fell asleep.

Days went by. Ron's grades suffered from the attention. He hardly had any time to study anymore, what with all the parties, and invitations to hang out - mainly because he accepted them all. His aging kept progressing, but to most of the students, that was the novelty of hanging out with Ron. You never knew how much older he was going to be.

As much as she wanted to get to know Ron better, Lydia stayed away. His ego was growing by leaps and bounds these days. Ron noticed Lydia avoiding him, but every time he had a chance to go and talk to her, someone else came up to him, wanting to chat and hang out.

A week and a half after the quidditch game Professor McGonnagal stopped him after class. When the last student had left the room, she looked at him, concern in her eyes.

"Yes, Professor, what is it?"

She sighed. "Mr. Weasley, I'm concerned about you."

He flashed a grin. "There's no need. I'm good! I feel great!" His face suddenly fell. "I didn't bomb that last quiz did I?"

McGonnagal smiled slightly. "No, you passed... barely. That's not what I'm talking about, though. I've noticed how you get up from your desk." She frowned slightly. "You looks as though you're in pain."

Ron stared at her. He had been feeling stiff after sitting in the desk for an hour, but he thought that was because he was playing more quidditch these days.

"There's no need to be concerned, Professor."

"Mr. Weasley, I would be concerned anytime a student started to look older than myself."

"I don't look that old!" he yelled. Realizing what he said, he blushed slightly. "I – I'm sorry, Professor. I didn't mean - "

She smiled again. "That's all right, Mr. Weasley. I know you didn't. I'm just curious as to why Madam Pomphrey hasn't been seeing to you. Does she even know what's been happening?"

Ron looked down. "No. I was afraid she'd send me home again."

"This is serious, Ronald. Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape and I have all discussed the matter. Your quickly advancing physical age is rather alarming. Have you ever thought how this might end?"

Ron shrugged. "Not really. I've rather been enjoying it. Although, someone said today that I looked older than their dad..." He frowned. Being older was cool, but certainly not looking as old as one of your peer's parents.

Professor McGonnagal sighed. "I'm going to be keeping a closer watch on you, Mr. Weasley. You're not familiar with what limitations are placed on an older body. So, be careful. I wouldn't suggest such extreme behavior during quidditch for example. You may very well hurt yourself."

"Yes, ma'am." Ron left the classroom in lower spirits than he'd been in for a long while.

Where was this all going? He probably should have openly confessed to Fred and George. Maybe then he would know more about that stupid chocolate frog.

As he walked to his next class his footsteps kept getting smaller and slower. Why did he feel so tired all of a sudden? He yawned widely. What was his next class, anyway? Oh, yeah, History. Ron walked right past the history classroom where he heard the Professor droning, and headed for the Gryffindor tower. He could definitely use a nap by now. Having made up his mind about skipping, Ron went up to his room, threw his book bag on the floor and flopped onto his bed, going instantly asleep.

Darkness surrounded him and in his dreams he was haunted by Lydia standing, staring at him with her big eyes and hair flowing. He tried running to her, but she never got any closer. Eventually, she turned and walked away. He shouted her name, tried chasing after her, but to no avail. She was gone. Gone forever. Suddenly, he saw something hopping towards him. Hop. Hop. Hop. It came closer and closer. It was a giant chocolate frog!! Ron ran for his life. He ran and ran and ran...

Ron moaned. Something was jabbing at his eyes. He tried moving, but as much as he tried his limbs remained like lead. It felt as if his skin was being dragged down. He moaned again. Gradually, whispered voices found his ears, fading in and out.

"..... two days. We should..... parents. Should ..... long ago"

He struggled to open his eyes, but the light was so bright. He moaned again. He felt people at his side.

"Ron," they called. "Ron, how do you feel? Ron?" Eventually, he managed a small slit and saw half a dozen shadowy people staring down at him. He slowly recognized Madam Pomphrey, Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and Lydia. Lydia. She looked so beautiful. He tried to smile, but he felt like his lips would crack.

He opened his mouth to speak, but his throat was so dry. "Where am I?" he finally rasped. "I need water." Madam Pomphrey brought a glass to his mouth and helped him to drink. The water went down cool and refreshing, quenching a deep, parching thirst. "Where am I?" he asked again.

"You're in the sick wing, dear," Madam Pomphrey said. "You should have come to me sooner, silly boy." Ron tried shaking his head, but strangely, even his neck hurt.

"What's wrong with me?" he asked, but she was already gone to get him some more water. "What's wrong with me?" he tried to shout, but it only came out as a bark.

"Oh, Ron," Ginny's face was strained and white. "Get him a mirror," she whispered. Hermione handed Ginny her pocket mirror and she held it up to Ron's face.

What he saw horrified him. The person that looked back at him was ancient – an old man. His face was creased and drooped with wrinkles, his eyes a watery blue. He had a beard, long and white – enough to challenge even Professor Dumbledore's. Ron wanted to cry. A small tear found its way out of his eye and slid down his pale, wrinkled cheek. Lydia, taking out her pocket handkerchief, tenderly dabbed it away. Ron reached up with a huge effort and grabbed her hand, holding it as tight as he could in his feeble grip. He should have known this would happen. Everything pointed to this. What else could possibly happen to someone that was speed aging? Was he going to die? His heart beat quickened. He couldn't die! He was only sixteen!

With a sudden urgency, he turned to Ginny, still holding on to Lydia's hand. "You must send for Fred and George. Now!"

"I just sent for Mum and Dad. Surely they can help better -"

"No!" he shouted. His chest constricted and he started coughing uncontrollably. When he was finally able to breathe he said, "I need Fred and George. I don't have much time. I can feel it." And he really did. He could feel his body's senses slipping away. Harry, Hermione, and Lydia looked at him, their faces full of pity for their friend. Ginny nodded and hurried out.

While she was gone Ron slipped in and out of consciousness, but always he could feel his hand in Lydia's. Sometimes he could feel her stroking it. At one point he woke up in a panic. He was afraid he had been left alone, but his friends were still there, Ginny having come back long ago. They were excused from classes to wait with their friend. With a sudden impulse he whispered,

"I've been a selfish jerk, haven't I?" His friends shook their heads, but he knew, of course they were lying. "I guess I can't handle popularity very well." He wheezed out a laugh. They smiled at him kindly. "I'm sorry. To all of you. Can you ever forgive me?" He needed them to forgive him. Desperately.

"Oh, of course, Ron!" they cried.

"I knew you'd come around eventually," Harry said, kindly.

"I hardly even noticed a difference," Hermione joked, making him smile.

Lydia patted his hand. "I knew there was the real you somewhere under all that." Ron nodded, tears leaking out of his eyes once more. He sighed, worn out from all the effort of talking and faded into sleep again.

When he awoke his parents were hovering around his bed. The moment they saw his eyes open, Mrs. Weasley burst into tears.

"Oh, my Ronald! My Ronald! Just look at you!" She began sobbing uncontrollably.

"Calm down, woman!" Mr. Weasley chided his wife. He looked down at his son and patted his white head.

"You're the spitting image of your grandfather, you know that? Not that that would make you feel any better." He smiled and leaned over a bit. "Fred and George will be here in a moment. They're out in the hall. They were more worried than I've ever seen them when they got the owl from Ginny." He patted Ron's head again. "You're going to be just fine. We're going to get this all sorted out, all right?" Ron managed a weak nod.

Suddenly, the twin's faces were above him. They did indeed look worried. "You don't look too chipper, mate," Fred said.

"You about ready to kick the bucket, little brother?" George asked, grinning nervously. Ginny smacked George's head. He winced, knowing he deserved it.

"I need to... tell... you... something," Ron whispered, each word an effort. The twins leaned over the bed to better hear him. "I... ate... your... chocolate... frog." There he had said it! Now they knew!

George shoved Fred from over the bed. "I told you that's what it was! But no! You couldn't remember what we put in that box!"

Fred frowned. "That's rotten luck, mate," he said, addressing Ron. "We're not quite sure what that frog will do." He looked up at his George. "Do you think we should tell him what was in it?" Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Harry, Hermione, Ginny and Lydia all leaned in to hear what Fred and George had to say.

"What in the world is coming out of his ears?" Mrs. Pomphrey cried out suddenly, shoving Weasleys aside.

"It's smoke!" Harry shouted.

"Uh, oh," George and Fred murmured in unison. They backed away nervously.

"What is it?" Mrs. Weasley cried shrilly. "What did you boys do?"

Ron was starting to feel hot all over. He closed his eyes and felt Lydia's hand slipping away from him. He tried to reach out to grab her fingers but his hand wouldn't cooperate. Meanwhile, his body kept getting hotter and hotter. He moaned, feeling himself slip away. What was wrong with him? Was this what dying was like?

The group around his bed backed away, fear on their faces. All of a sudden Ron's body burst into a leaping ball of flames! The room filled with shrieks and screams. Pandemonium was everywhere! Madam Pomphrey was running around in circles trying to find water. Lydia had fainted, and Fred and George stared wide-eyed and open mouth as their brother's body was consumed in fire. Hermione stood staring and mumbling to herself, trying to remember some spell she couldn't quite recall for extinguishing flames. Mrs. Weasley was screaming and crying hysterically while Mr. Weasley, tears pouring down his cheeks, tried to console his wife. Harry stood in shock, his face white as he watched his best friend burn. What could he do? His cheek itched. He could handle that. So, he itched his cheek.

All of a sudden the doors crashed open and Dumbledore strode inside, his robes billowing about him. "Quiet!" he yelled and there was instant silence except for the sound of the flames eating at Ronald Weasley. "Move away!" he commanded and they did so, parting for the wizard without a sound. Dumbledore stood at the side of the bed, his head tilted in thought. He gazed into the flames for a long time, the flames flashing in the reflection of the Dumbledore's spectacles. Finally, a small smile found its way to his lips and he turned to the group huddled together on the other side of the room, Lydia having been laid in one of the beds, still unconscious.

"Mr. Weasley will be with us shortly," he stated happily. They stared at the old wizard.

"What do you mean?" Mr. Weasley asked on everyone's behalf. "What are you talking about? My son is burning to death!"

"Well, yes, and no," Dumbledore replied. "Mr. Potter, I'm sure, already knows what this is all about." Harry stared. Him? Why should he know? Something tugged on the corner of his mind, but it wouldn't come to the surface.

By now the flames were receding. They watched as the fire slowly died down and at last, went out. Looking down at the bed, Dumbledore smiled widely, pulled up a blanket and then backed away.

The Weasleys and Harry ran to the bed and stopped in shock to see a perfectly whole, pale-faced, sixteen year old, red-headed Ronald Weasley. His eyes were shut, his clothes unfortunately burned off (which is why Dumbledore needed to pull up the blanket), but the most important thing of all was that his chest was moving!

"He's alive!" Mrs. Weasley screamed and started sobbing again. Everyone was crying in relief, even Harry, Fred and George, who had given into the tears. Lydia sat up from the bed, rubbing her head.

"What's going on?" she asked and seeing the group huddled around the non-burning bed, she jumped to her feet and flew to Ron. Seeing him alive, she fell to her knees and started smothering him in kisses, to everyone's surprise. (Well, not everyone's)

This is what Ron awoke to. At first he marveled that he was alive and felt better than he had ever in his life – ever. Then he wondered who other than his mother would smother him kisses. But when one was planted on his lips, and lingered there, his eyes snapped open. He saw Lydia, her eyelashes dripping with tears, and threw his arms around her neck, kissing her back. She gasped in shock, pulling away.

"Oh, Ron! You're alive! You're alive!" she cried. Instantly, he was surrounded by his family and friends: pinching him (that was his mother), patting his head, and squeezing his hand. He never felt so loved in his life. It was then that he realized that all he was wearing was a blanket and his face turned beet red.

"Uh, thank you," he said, acknowledging their gestures of caring, "But I need some clothes here!" Luckily, Dumbledore stood by with a set of pajamas from Madam Pomphrey. A screen was pulled around and Ron was given some privacy to dress. He felt himself, hardly daring to believe he was normal again. He felt an enormous amount of relief, like a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He felt so fresh and new.

When he emerged from the screen, he was once again surrounded. "Can I have a mirror?" he asked before he was smothered again. Instead of Hermione's pocket mirror, Madam Pomphrey, her eyes still moist, wheeled out a full-length mirror from her office.

Ron stood and looked at himself. There were no huge rippling muscles, but he was tall (was he taller than before?), thin, his muscles toned and lean from quidditch. His eyes weren't a brilliant, snapping, flirty sapphire, but they were clear and bright. Even his eyelashes were long and curled a bit. He didn't have facial hair, but his skin was smooth and clear with only a few freckles scattered across his nose. Ron grinned. He was back to his old boring self. And it felt amazing.

"I look good." He said and everyone laughed. It hadn't been a joke, but he grinned anyway. Lydia moved up next to him, stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"I always thought so." He grinned and grabbed her around the waist, uncaring that everyone was there to see. He saw his mum out of the corner of his eye, glaring at Lydia with suspicion. "Give it a rest, Mum, I'm sixteen!" he cried out and kissed Lydia rather cheerfully. When they broke away Fred and George were conversing in frenzied whispers, a little apart from the rest of them.

"What's all this about?" Dumbledore approached them, a twinkle in his eye. They had always been two of his favorite students. He himself was a regular customer of their joke shop. Fred and George jumped apart from each other.

"We were just about to tell Ron what we put in that chocolate frog." Fred said.

"It was really rather innocent. Just one little ingredient..." George grinned feebly.

"It was still a prototype. We were just waiting for a test subject." Fred explained.

"We didn't expect it to be Ron, but..." George looked to his twin.

"Well, what was it?" Ron cried, frustrated about the beating around the bush business.

"Essence of Phoenix oil," they said in unison.

"Essence of what?" Ron yelled.

"I get it now!" Harry suddenly burst out. "Essence of Phoenix oil. That's why you burst into flames. It's just like I saw Fawkes, Professor Dumbledore's bird, do when he was old."

"Yes, of course!" Hermione butted in. "When phoenix birds die, they burst into flames and then are born again from their ashes. Apparently, it works differently on humans, and you were "born again" in the same age as when you took it in the first place!"

Ron turned to stare at his brothers. "And you didn't have that under lock and key? I could have really died!"

Fred and George laughed. "Like we said, we didn't think it would be you." George reminded him.

"On the other hand, you didn't think we left our room unlocked on accident, did you?" Fred asked.

"To be honest, we were thrilled when you were sent home," George added. "We'd been needing several of our experiments tested. All we needed was to have you wander in and..."

"We just didn't expect you to find that one." Fred finished sheepishly. The twins froze realizing their mother was standing right behind them.

"You boys are in serious trouble!" she roared and grabbed them by the ears.

"Ow! Ow!" they hollered. They were drug toward the door, but not before Mrs. Weasley gave Ron a crushing hug and a motherly kiss on the cheek. She patted Lydia on the arm and hauled her guilty sons from the room.

After saying goodbye to his family, and thanking Madam Pomphrey and Professor Dumbledore, Ron, Harry, Hermione, Ginny and Lydia walked outside into the glorious sunshine of a beautiful day. Ron paused, breathing deeply. He felt he had another chance at life. And life was good. It wasn't perfect. He didn't think Professor Snape would let him out of tomorrow's test on account of growing old and burning to death, but nevertheless. It felt good to be in his own body again and with people he cared about.

Taking a deep breath he turned and look around at his friends and sister. "What do you say to a game of quidditch? Girls against boys!"

"Yeah!" they shouted and dashed down to the quidditch pitch. They raided the school's broom shed, dragging out five ancient broomsticks and a beat-up quaffle and played to their hearts delight. Ron played goal-keeper, and missed every single goal by a mile. But he didn't care. He was in his own scrawny sixteen-year-old body, and he wouldn't change it for the world.

THE END

SOB! Tis the end, my friends! Now's the time to review! Tell me what you think! I want to hear it! Thank you for all your support and your reviews! And thank you for reading RONALD THE GREAT! Until next time, adieu!