1. Thanks a lot to ORCA47 for helping beta this chapter. I am sure it will be far better with that valuable advice. Also thanks to Ana-DaughterOfHades who helped me years ago on the initial version of this.

2. Any error here is mine and not from my reviewer.

For a moment, Ron thought that he was dead. Like really dead.

There were no sounds or distinguishable shapes around him, and the searing pain in his arm was notoriously absent. He didn't know where he was, or even how he got there. His head was still filled with too many rambling thoughts to make sense of things. All he could tell was that he was floating aimlessly in some chilly void, with only a few bleary lights coming now and then, disrupting the massive darkness of his surroundings.

Ron had been fighting in the Time Room, he could remember as much. His memories were foggy and it was hard to piece them all together, but he got glimpses from here and there. He had seen a shifty mirror, and a strange man of even stranger eyes. Spells had been fired all over the place, and things had been broken. There had been a thick black fog as well, and Ron was sure a bust had been mentioned at some point — not that he could be arsed to remember what the hell was a bust at the moment.

No matter how badly he tried though, he couldn't remember what had happened after he fell through the wall.

Maybe he was dead. Maybe some wicked spell had hit him before falling. One of the exploding objects on the tables could've been deathly and he would've never known. In the end, none of it mattered. All that was important to Ron, all that really mattered to him, was Hermione. He could almost see the man flooing her in the middle of the night, telling her of what had happened. Ron couldn't help it, the very image of his wife sobbing and broken down by the news was too much to handle.

Would Harry be the one to tell her? He wasn't sure how much that mattered either.

Wherever he was, Ron felt as if he was still falling. He was being pulled to his left instead of down, yet he knew he was falling for sure. The mind was less cloudy, yet there was still that odd feeling on him. It was like being underwater, only without the drowning part. He still couldn't move his hands or feel his body either. He didn't know if all that was normal in dying, he hadn't died before. Curious how he never asked Harry how that felt.

On the other hand, maybe Ron wasn't dead after all. Maybe he was just dreaming.

As he kept floating through that tunnel, Ron heard low whispers. They were mostly Hermione's, still, some sounded an awful lot like Harry, or his parents, or George, or Ginny. The flashes of cold, blue light in the tunnel were almost in sync with the sounds. It didn't take long for Ron to find out that he could distinguish images in those lights, sharp and clear.

He saw himself learning of the Azkaban attack in one of them, and Ginny announcing that she was pregnant in the next one. And just like that, Ron's life started playing backwards before his eyes. It passed in the form of ghostly and cold images, but he had no problem recognizing each event. From simple lunch outings at work with Harry and quidditch matches at the Burrow that extended all the way to sunset, to tender holiday moments next to Hermione.

Ron was still trying to make sense of what was going on when the next memory caught him off guard. His wedding day replayed for him, just as he remembered it. There was an arch where his past self was standing stiffly, as Harry whispered some last encouraging words. In the crowd, Luna's flowery dress was getting quite a few stares from the Granger relatives, and whatever Ron's father was talking about was causing some confused faces as well. All of them disappeared to Ron the moment he saw the most beautiful woman walk down the aisle. Hermione looked almost glowing as she gave Ron the widest of smiles. The pale blue patterns in the tunnel didn't do the memory justice, not all it deserved.

The memories kept coming.

In some twisted way, those magnified glimpses were like photos, of the moving sort. They looked a tad foreign through the blue hues of that tunnel, but they brought back all kinds of feelings to Ron. Granted, it wasn't as funny seeing Percy trying to take off a bewitched pair of glasses that showed his eyes bouncing this time, but Ron remembered what it had felt to be there when it actually happened. A photo, Ron had found, wasn't a slice of your life to carry about and show to other people as some sort of bottled memory. Photos were just reminders, messages you could say. A photo was your older self smacking you in the head, telling you which moments you better not be thick enough to forget.

As if on cue, the scene changed again. Ron saw his past self asking Hermione to marry him, as a proud horse made its way in an unforgettable night. He looked just a tad fidgety in the memory, though Ron remembered he had been scared shiteless waiting for the answer. When Hermione threw herself at him nodding, the lights dropped again.

I could've sworn that it had taken her longer to answer.

The first time Ron's mother saw little Victoire appeared on the tunnel, followed by the end of his Auror training. By then, Ron started wondering if he was really dreaming at all. He was floating bodiless without a doubt, but he could feel the cold in a way that was unusual for any kind of dream.

Ron saw the day he told Hermione he loved her for the very first time. Nevertheless, the warmness brought by the memory faded much too quickly. The tunnel went dark and sombre just before Ron saw himself standing in front of a grave. The memory was almost silent, but the muted sob that came still felt too damn loud.

The scene stayed like that for a moment, then it went away slowly, and the blasted war came tearing everything apart without mercy.

Ron tried to close his eyes, but it seemed like he didn't have eyelids either. He was forced to see all of it again. Voldemort was falling in the crowded Great Hall, then Harry suddenly laid dead in Hagrid's arms. Then it wasn't Harry anymore, but Fred's motionless body, the one Ron saw resting on the cold stones of the Great Hall.

The images were just glimpses, yet Ron's memories made the whole thing play again in his head as it had played over and over again since that bleeding night. He heard his brother yelling at Percy, just as his last laugh was cut short by some wicked blast. Everything a whirlwind, all happening at once.

Who was doing this to him? He didn't dream a lot and it was never as weird as what he was experiencing. Several jars had exploded back at the Time Room, was this a potion's side effect then? Was he still alive and trying to recover on some bed at St Mungo's? Was Hermione shedding tears next to his body?

Maybe he wasn't dead after all. Maybe he was just dying at that very moment.

"Hermione!" he shouted and was able to hear his voice echoing in the endless passage.

Ron tried to go back to the other side of the tunnel without much success. He kept floating to his left, pulled, dragged.

The memories didn't give him a break. Percy clinging to Fred's lifeless body changed into the room of requirement, blue fire taking over the whole tunnel as an insatiable beast. Then the kiss.

Merlin, it took too bloody long...

Things didn't get easier once the final battle was left behind. Ron thought he was going to destroy that damned tunnel the moment he heard Hermione's yells and the images of him desperately shaking the door at the Malfoys' dungeon. That wretched locket he loathed so much didn't take long to appear either. 'I have seen your heart, and it is mine,' the cold whisper made him shiver. Then, Ron exploded in anger at himself as he relieved the day he left Harry and Hermione at the tent, as if he could somehow stop his former self from doing anything.

It was too much at once. He couldn't understand why this was happening to him.

The memories seemed to be gaining speed. Mad-eye was soon gone and so was Dumbledore, then Ron saw Harry kissing his sister in front of everybody in the common room. Lavender came next. He wanted to turn away, he wanted to skip that part, but his efforts were in vain.

What was the point of all this? Was he ever going to stop going backwards?

Those ruddy brains were jumping at him, and they shocked him almost as much as seeing his father laying on a bed at St Mungo's. Dolores Umbridge was yelling about something that Ron didn't care a rat's arse about when another idea formed in his head. What if something in the Time Room was giving him the visions? Maybe that ruddy mirror or maybe something else from that freakish room.

Were these mere visions or was this what time travel felt like though? He wouldn't know, Harry and Hermione never mentioned anything like this after third year.

Ron dismissed the idea of travelling back in time as if it was rubbish. He couldn't be traveling back to the past. Certainly not. At least that was what he was telling himself before he saw Harry appearing at the end of the Triwizard Tournament with Cedric's numb body beneath him.

He had to stop this. He couldn't keep going back, and there was no bleeding way he was staying here either. It didn't matter if it was real or just a dream. Ron had to return.

Hopelessly, he tried to walk back. However, the images on the tunnel were distracting him, dragging him further and further in the same direction. A younger version of himself was yelling stupidly at Hermione after the Yule Ball. The dragons, the goblet, Krum, the Quidditch World Cup... all of it was gone as fast as it had arrived.

And still, Ron couldn't stop moving.

The rat, Lupin, his blasted rows about Crookshanks... When would it end? What if he actually arrived at the point where he was born? What would happen then? If he was still unconscious in the outside world, would he die then?

With the trip to Egypt lightning the tunnel, Ron tried to remember what happened after he touched that liquid wall. He made a great effort, yet couldn't recall that part of the fight, or being taken to St. Mungo's for that matter. He kept making an effort but those memories just weren't there. Only that man's mismatched eyes were there. Only the mirror.

The mirror... He couldn't be travelling back in time. He just couldn't.

All around him, the tunnel kept going. It showed Harry bringing Ginny out of the Chamber of Secrets, Hermione petrified, and then Myrtle. The duelling club was next, followed by Hermione preparing the Polyjuice Potion...

Ron had to do something, he didn't want to go to a point where he didn't have Hermione in his life. What could he make of his life if she wasn't in it?

After Lockhart was gone, Quirrell appeared, and, with him, a huge chessboard formed in the tunnel. Hagrid's dragon flew away, the flap of its wings covering big chunks of the world at once. Soon Ron was staring at the troll fight and the exact moment when he and Harry became friends with Hermione. He wanted the tunnel to stop and started shouting and thrashing uncontrollably, even when it seemed to be of no use.

Ron was sorted into Gryffindor and when he saw the image of Hermione appearing in his compartment for the very first time he finally lost it. He couldn't take losing her. Ron shouted, with lungs he didn't seem to have, shaking his world so hard that he eventually passed out of the effort. No other blue images appeared. There was only black.

o0o0o

It wasn't clear how much time it passed before Ron regained consciousness. It seemed like an eternity later, but, at the same time, it was barely a heartbeat.

"Are all your family wizards?" asked a muffled voice.

It all came to him then, as violently as a pack of miffed erumpents charging at him. The light hit his eyes at once, and Ron noticed his breathing had increased wildly as every shape around him became sharper. He was sitting on a train compartment all of a sudden, not much different from the ones in the Hogwarts Express. There was a window to his right and a black-haired boy with round-shaped glasses looking at him quite puzzled.

Putting his hands on the seat, Ron tried to steady himself. His eyes were moving frantically in all directions, trying to make sense of his new surroundings. His training told him to get a hold of his wand first and ask questions later, but he forgot that once he spared another glance at the boy in front of him.

"Ha—Harry?" he asked, noticing the boy's forehead. It couldn't be though. Harry Potter was his age, not a young boy like the one in front of him.

There was something off with all of it, even Ron's voice sounded different.

"Eh... yes, are you alright?"

Ron wanted to know what in Merlin's baggy pants was going on. Was this some sort of trap? It didn't make sense. Ron had been unconscious, if the American had wanted to kill him, he would be dead by now. Ron's body didn't even hurt.

"I'm alright. But you? Why— I mean, how? And Dolohov?" Ron mumbled, confused.

Harry's eyes widened, appearing worried, "Dolo— what? What do you mean? We're on our way to Hogwarts."

"To Hogwarts?! And why the hell would we be going to Hogwarts?!"

It was then that Ron touched his right arm, looking for the wound. He even pulled his sleeve up and discovered that not only there were no signs of the wound but that his arm was actually pretty small. Swiftly, he turned to the window of the compartment and he was shocked by his faint reflection on the glass.

Bloody hell.

Ron was young, like a kid. This couldn't be happening. Was he dreaming? He pinched himself, trying to wake himself up, which turned up to be useless.

Meanwhile, Harry had raised an eyebrow at him. "Sure you're alright?"

"I— yes, positive. What were you asking again?" Ron said rubbing his temples, he needed to play along with it until he found out more.

"I asked if everyone in your family was a wizard."

So, first year. It made sense, after all, he had been having a vision of first year when he passed out in that tunnel. That part of his memory was getting blurry, but he could still remember it somewhat. Ron couldn't be back in time though, that would be a disaster. He needed to stay positive. Maybe this was a vision of some sort, another dream perhaps.

Ron relaxed to some extent when he found his wand in his pocket. Although, that faded considerably after realizing it wasn't the red oak wand he had gotten from Ollivander after the war but Charlie's old wand.

"Err yeah, let me... Just give me a second," Ron said, taking a long breath before continuing. "Yes, we are. A wizarding family that is," he answered, doubtfully. He waited to see if there was any weird reaction from the boy, but he didn't notice any.

Mind-boggling as it was, the boy in front of Ron seemed to truly be an eleven-year-old Harry Potter. As nervous and unsure of his readiness for Hogwarts as one would expect. The future Harry was different in so many ways, but his confidence had never felt more noticeable than now. The younger Harry was nowhere near there.

Looking at the eager boy, Ron couldn't stop but remember the conversation he had with his older self back at the Ministry, right under the shadow of The Black Memorial. That was before someone blasted the ruddy thing to pieces and everything went down in shambles. It felt like ages ago already.

A lousy last day at work by all means.

"You must know loads of magic then— Are you sure you're alright?" the young Harry asked.

"Yes. Never been better! Just got a tad queasy, but that's over and done now," Ron blurted out, aiming for a casual tone. "I've seen my fair share of magic, mind you, but haven't used much myself. I guess I don't have such a big headstart there," he said, knowing what was surely going through the young Harry's head.

Why was he trying to reassure the boy though? The Harry in front of him couldn't possibly be his old friend. Thinking that would be like accepting that the bleeding mirror truly sent him to the past. And he couldn't do that. Not yet.

Harry gave Ron a weak smile, apparently unaware of Ron's internal turmoil. There was no sign of him being fake so far. Outside the window, everything struck Ron as real too. The train was bolting through green fields while warm sunshine washed over large patches of daisies.

Trying not to panic, Ron did his best to get the conversation with Harry going. It was difficult though, he remembered some things from back in first year, yet the memories were old and fuzzy. Ron didn't know what would happen if he fucked things up. Would something bad happen to the timeline then? No, if it was a dream, but, what if it was real? Ron shoved that thought out of his head. It couldn't be, it had to be a dream.

"I wish I had three wizard brothers. I grew up with Muggles and they were horrible, well at least my uncle, aunt, and cousin are," Harry said after the silence.

"Well I have... five," said Ron with a smile that dropped as he turned to the compartment door. Was Fred going to appear on that door or did he already come by? Would the dream last long enough to see him at the castle?

For the first time, Ron thought that it might not be that bad after all, to be in the past that was. Maybe he could see Fred before returning to his own time. Just for a little while.

Not that bad? What the fuck am I thinking?

Ron shook his head, trying to keep that train of thought away. He forced himself to continue the conversation while he discovered what the hell was going on.

"Bill and Charlie are the eldest, they already left Hogwarts. There's also Percy and the twins, F—Fred and George," Ron said, rattled at having to explain that to Harry, "They were all great. Head boy for Bill, Charlie was Quidditch captain and Percy was—is prefect now. The twins are also brilliant. I have a lot to live up to… Oh, there's also Ginny, she's my younger sister. She's not coming to Hogwarts until next year."

Had he mentioned Ginny the first time around? Ron wasn't sure, but he decided to go with it now. It felt odd though, the last time he had seen his sister, she had been pregnant and very much married to the boy sitting in front of him. Ron was sure that if Harry were to talk to her now, the younger Ginny would hardly say a word and keep an attitude as mellow as that butter she had dipped her elbow into once — a first encounter Harry was fond of teasing her with in the future.

"Oh, it must be nice to have such a big family," Harry said.

"It is, just a little crowded at times."

Ron waited. Now what? Harry was silent again. Was he supposed to say something more? Then Ron felt his jacket move and a frown came naturally to him.

Wormtail.

"This is Scabbers," Ron said, pulling a rat out of his pocket. It looked so peakish that it was almost yellow, but he knew better than to trust its appearance. "I got it from Percy. It's just a stupid useless rat though. Percy got an owl so I got this rubbish instead."

Ron faked the rat slipping from his fingers, then he let it fall and stepped on its tail as if by accident. Nothing too heavy, but enough to make it squeak. Then, he forced the rat back into his pocket.

If this was all real then that rat was a wizard in disguise. A despicable man called Peter Pettigrew, an animagus who could turn himself into an animal. His animagus form was a rat, which suited him perfectly. Wormtail was a traitor who had befriended Harry's parents only to stab them in the back, giving their location away to Voldemort. He also made another one of his former friends take the blame. An innocent was in prison at that very moment because of Wormtail. Sirius Black.

It was awkward to think Sirius could be alive somewhere in Azkaban, paying for Wormtail's crime. Could he really be though? If this was just a vision maybe there was nothing outside of the compartment. Maybe it was just Harry and him.

Soon after Harry mentioned Voldemort, which made Ron remember the Taboo on the evil wizard's name. That magic allowed Voldemort to track his enemies, just by the sole mention of a word.

"Some people are scared of the name," he said.

"You don't seem to."

Ron shrugged, "I mean, it's just a name."

Even so, as Ron said the last thing, he avoided Harry's eyes. He didn't want to believe it, still, if these weren't mere visions then Voldemort was out there as well. It was likely a safe bet that Dolohov had had that in mind when he started this whole thing. The Death Eater had planned to be here instead of Ron all along. At least by falling through that mirror, Ron had stopped that prick from reaching his blasted goal.

All in all, Ron couldn't tell for sure if he was truly back in time. He didn't know if there was a spell or a certain way to clear his doubts either. Hermione would know for sure, but she couldn't help him now.

At once, Ron's eyes turned to the compartment door, wondering how long would it take for a younger version of his wife to appear there. He fidgeted as he made his best to keep a casual conversation with Harry.

The train kept going with its restless pace. The landscapes racing outside the window and the sweets that Harry got for them were the same Ron had been expecting. Nothing seemed out of place and, before he knew it, he found himself staring at Dumbledore's chocolate frog card once again. The name of Nicolas Flamel was there also, almost mocking him.

Everything was too bloody real now.

That man, the American, he couldn't have come up with this, Ron realized in terror. He didn't know of Ron's first conversation with Harry, or the chocolate frog card for that matter. This was no trick.

Ron's musings were interrupted by Neville, who came looking for his toad. By then, Ron was too ruddy nervous and he couldn't find where to put his hands. Even after the young Neville left, he kept staring at the compartment's door, as if it were one of those toilets the twins always promised to blast off.

Could it be possible? Was Neville going to return with her?

Harry didn't miss his mood, "What are you looking at?" he asked.

"Err... nothing! Was just thinking about that toad, I guess."

Ron had his eyes fixed on Harry when he heard the door slide open.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," her voice sounded casual, still, it made Ron's heart skip a beat.

It was as if a cracking bludger had come whooshing through the sky only to blow him out of his broom with a solid hit. Ron could have sworn he had been knocked out of his seat, but, at the same time, he was completely stunned. He didn't dare to turn, afraid that if he did so she might disappear as suddenly as she had arrived.

"We haven't seen it," Harry said.

Ron turned, unable to keep his eyes away from the door any longer. And there he found her, standing normally as if this wasn't some sort of twisted joke. As if she had never seen Ron in her entire life. Hermione, the eleven-year-old version of her, had her robes already on and her brown hair was as bushy as ever. Her front teeth were pretty large as well.

"Eh—well— Is there something wrong?" the girl asked Ron, confused about the way he was staring at her.

"No, It's just— You, well— You look like someone I know," Ron stumbled through the words.

"Is that so?"

He nodded as the young girl stared at him with a haunting curiosity. "Someone from my family, you wouldn't know her."

Hermione paused only briefly before continuing, "Are you two from wizarding families? Neville is. Nobody in mine is magic at all; it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course. I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard. I've learned all our course books by heart, I just hope it will be enough. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

Harry turned to Ron. He wished he could tell Harry that she wasn't that bad.

"Harry Potter."

"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course— I got a few extra books. for background reading, you're in Modern Magical History, and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century—"

"Am I?" said Harry, baffled.

"Goodness, didn't you know? I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione. "Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best. I hear Dumbledore himself was in it. I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad either. Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon..."

Even when the situation was unreal, Ron couldn't stop enjoying the exchange. The young girl certainly felt like a younger version of his wife and not a vision. Which only complicated things.

"Oh you didn't tell me your name," Hermione said, as her eyes found Ron again. She had that curious look on her that Ron was so fond of.

Merlin, I missed her, Ron thought. It certainly felt like more than a few hours since he had left her by that fireplace.

"Ron Weasley," he answered.

"Nice to meet you, Ron."

And she left with Neville, just like that.

Ron wasn't willing to say anything bad about her this time so Harry was the one to break the silence, "What house are your brothers in?"

"Gryffindor," said Ron, "Mum and Dad were in it too. All Weasleys are."

Ron thought Hermione wasn't going to return, so he picked up the talk with Harry from where they had left it. His mind ruffled beyond doubt, miles away from the compartment. He wondered about Hermione and how terrifying it was that everything felt so freakishly real. However, he managed not to make a complete muck out of his conversation with Harry. He told the boy all he could about the Hogwarts houses and a tad more of his brothers, that was at least until the compartment door opened again and Ron couldn't keep himself from snorting.

"Is it true?" Malfoy said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes," said Harry. He was looking at Crabbe and Goyle at Malfoy's sides. Ron had forgotten how much they looked like his bodyguards, but there was nothing they could say or do that would scare Ron now.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the git, carelessly, "My name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron rolled his eyes. The future Slytherin boy looked at him.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford," He moved his eyes to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

Oh, there are not enough Auror inspections in the world to put this prick where he belongs.

Ron gritted his teeth and made for his wand, yet he controlled himself. He would have loved to hex Malfoy's slimy bollocks all the way to next week, however, having Harry putting his ruddy arse in its rightful place was just too good to miss. When the blond boy extended his hand and Harry didn't take it, Ron smiled smugly.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," Harry said.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," Malfoy said looking pink. "Unless you're a bit more polite, you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

Both Harry and Ron stood up.

"Shut up you ferret," Ron said.

Malfoy turned red, "How dare you to talk to me like that, you don't know who you're dealing with."

"Oh yeah? And who's that? Your Daddy? Your bodyguards? Because you don't look that menacing, really," Ron grinned gripping his wand.

As all the spells he could throw at the git raced through Ron's mind, he couldn't avoid thinking back on every nasty comment he ever made to them… on his rotten excuse for a house… on what had happened to Hermione there. He hardened the grip on his wand as he prepared himself, he was waiting for Malfoy to do or say the wrong things, as he knew he would.

Harry was taken aback by Ron's intense glare, yet he backed him up, "Get out now, we don't want you here."

"But we won't go now. We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some."

Goyle reached toward the Chocolate Frogs. Ron had the foggy memory of Scabbers biting the gits last time, but he didn't want anything from that rat now.

In a second Ron flicked his wand and, without thinking about it, he threw three non-verbal Leg-Locker curses. Naturally, Malfoy and his goons all fell to the floor shouting as Harry was left staring in awe.

Bloody perfect. Ron had said he didn't know much about magic and there he was, throwing quick leg lockers like an experienced Auror. Considering how riled he had felt though, it was small wonder he didn't do something that would have thrown them to Madam Pomfrey on the first day of the term.

"You useless fool!" Malfoy yelled from the floor.

"Keep that filthy mouth shut, Malfoy. You don't want to eat dust, do you?" Ron said.

Harry was looking at Ron as if he had grown another head all of a sudden, "How did you—"

"Fred and George. They do it all the time. I'll teach you later if you want, it's not that difficult," Ron said quickly, hoping Harry wouldn't ask anything more.

Harry was smiling when Hermione appeared at the door, "What's going on in here!?"

With a swift movement, Ron lifted the curses, verbally this time. Then he turned to Hermione, trying to appear as if he didn't miss her older self something fierce. "Sorry, they started it."

Had Hermione returned last time? Ron couldn't remember.

The girl was frowning as Malfoy and his goons stood up, "But— You shouldn't— How?" she was looking confused as Malfoy turned with a murderous glare to Ron.

"This isn't over Weasley!" and they walked out pushing Hermione out of the way, "Step aside."

Ron was enraged by it. He couldn't forget what happened to her at the ferret's house.

"Don't touch her!"

Draco Malfoy stopped only for a bit, "Ha! Don't tell me that you fancy her Weasley."

Ron lifted his wand, which was enough to have them bolting away. When he turned to look at Hermione, he saw that her cheeks had a slight tone of pink to them, looking as confused as Harry. Ron was just making one mistake after the other now.

"Are you fine?" he asked his future wife.

"I am, but, you shouldn't—" Hermione was frowning again, "Did you do that? With their legs?"

Harry nodded.

"You could be in trouble even before getting to Hogwarts! You shouldn't be doing that!"

Before Ron could apologize or say anything else, Harry spoke out loud, "We didn't get into trouble, did we? Nobody's here."

"That doesn't mean it wasn't wrong!"

Harry sighed, "We still got some sweets, let's go Ron."

"I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, he says we're nearly there. It's not the time for sweets— or fighting!" Hermione replied.

"You heard us already. We didn't start it!" Harry insisted, not hiding his annoyance, "And it's our business if we have time for sweets."

What had just happened? Was Harry being the rude one? This was wrong and not what Ron had expected. He didn't know what to do.

Hermione huffed and turned to Ron. He didn't want to upset her but he couldn't go against Harry either. If he did so what would happen then? Would they still be friends? They had just met each other.

"Fine. It's rather childish of you two but you can have it your way," the girl said, then she turned to Ron, "And you have dirt on your nose, I think you ought to know."

Ron's only option as he saw her leave was to return with Harry, scratching his nose. He felt bad about Hermione and even considered going after her. However, he had barely crossed a word with the young girl and that would have looked suspicious.

When their arrival was announced, Ron heaved a sigh, unsure of what was coming next.

o0o0o

Once the train stopped in front of Hogsmeade's station, Harry followed Ron into the cold air. The scene Ron saw there startled him, and then some. It was the exact same he remembered, all to the very last detail. The whole thing had him rattled. He never imagined he would be arriving at Hogsmeade's station like this ever again after he refused McGonagall's offer to return for his last year. The pack of students rushing from one side to the other and talking about their holidays was overwhelming, surreal even.

It turned even more unsettling once he saw Roger Malone passing not five feet away from him. The colour drained from his face. Ron remembered the boy among the victims of the Battle of Hogwarts, yet he looked alive and cheerful now.

A familiar voice took him out of his shock, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?"

Ron wanted to smile at Hagrid's younger face, but he was still half-stunned. Still haunted by Roger, who had vanished through the sea of students. As only a ghost would.

Since the moment he realized where he was, when he was, Ron had considered that he might see people he thought dead before — he hadn't stopped thinking of Fred, for Merlin's sake. However, seeing it from up close was a new feeling altogether.

How many more people he thought dead would he be seeing? More than a handful of names crossed his mind.

"C'mon, follow me - any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!" Hagrid yelled as they followed him through a recognizable path.

As they moved towards the boats, Ron saw plenty of familiar faces. That prat McLaggen was telling some story to his easily-impressed friends a few feet away. On the other side of the station, Ron thought he got a glimpse of Audrey — Percy's future wife — giggling in her way to the carriages with some other Hufflepuff girls. He tried to find his brothers as well, but without much luck. Many people were moving around hastily and the twins were probably by the thresthals already.

On the train, he had been too scared to go and look for Fred, even when the idea of seeing him alive excited him plenty. What could he even say to Fred? It was a barmy business. For years he had wished he could hear one of his brother's jokes just one more time but now that he was here he felt paralyzed at the possibility. As he had been paralyzed by Roger Malone.

How could so many things look as in some of his best memories and still feel foreign to him? How could the station sound and smell exactly as it was supposed to and at the same time not feel like the same one at all?

There was also Hermione. Ron couldn't keep out of his head the need to make peace with her, even if he wasn't supposed to. He noticed her in the station, walking not far away, not even looking back at him. It felt wrong.

Only hours ago, Ron had been fighting Death Eaters at the Ministry and his only thought had been going back to Hermione. The urge of looking at her at least one last time kept him alive. He yearned for the wife he left standing by the fireplace, worried and in a nightgown, her hair all messy. The eleven-year-old girl that he found instead wasn't what he had expected.

"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!" but Ron remained silent. He only stared at the castle with fascination.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry and Ron took one of those boats followed by Neville, Hermione came after. When the girl saw them, she frowned, as if considering looking for a different boat.

Hagrid noticed Hermione standing out of Ron's boat, "Wha's the problem? Need help to get in the boat, girl?" he asked her, Hermione shook her head and stepped in, sitting as far away from Harry and Ron as possible. "Right then - FORWARD!"

Ron's smile disappeared. It didn't matter if she was just a girl, that was his wife and it hurt him that he couldn't go and talk to her as naturally as he did with her older self. It was then that reality hit him. Hermione didn't know who he really was. Neither did his family. He was alone.

What could he do now? Who could help him if this was truly the past? Dumbledore? The idea didn't ease his worries. Something told him the old headmaster would just try to erase his memories, and Ron didn't want that.

With a soft rocking, the boats crossed the great lake in silence. The air was cold and crisp. The castle of Hogwarts extended before them, as splendid as ever. Hermione glared at Harry most of the way while Ron threw occasional glimpses at the girl. Neville was just confused.

Ron had already dismissed the idea of a dream, this was too detailed and magnificent. He never had any dream like this before, he wasn't that creative. The chilly gust and breeze in the lake felt quite real too.

Honestly, he was terrified. Much more scared of facing this reality than of fighting Death Eaters. At least that he could understand, he knew how to deal with Aster Prince and other attackers. This… this was too much.

If it wasn't a dream, then what did he need to do to return to his old life? Ron could cause so many problems just by being here and he didn't want to stay either way.

Soon they reached the harbour and continued their way, climbing the stone steps towards the castle. Neville found his toad there, exactly as last time. Once in front of the very familiar oak door, Hagrid turned to them.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

Ron took a deep breath. His heart was beating just as fast as it had been at the Ministry. He knew perfectly well what was coming and he was still properly confused about it, feeling more lost than the very first time he stood before those heavy doors.