Seventh Son

by SimplySwooningK

AU. Seventh Sons, born to protect their worlds. Ron Weasley is the first Seventh Son to be born in the British Isles for a thousand years. Or so he's been told Cursed with power, his journey is one of discovery and manipulation, trying to find his way through the path he's destined to walk. Rated M for violence, sexual content and language.

5. Chapter 4

Okay, I'm about week late with this update, but it is here finally. The Sorting Hat I felt I had to get right along with some other details that will soon become important. There's not enough Ron and Hermione in this chapter for my taste and I wrote it, there is some and it will ever increase as we're going forward. The last chapter and Epiloge for Prewett should be coming very, very soon. So without further adieu...

Four

It matters naught where one is born, as long as one discovers where one is truly meant to be.- Claire Delacroix

English West Country

Godric's Hollow

Late 10th Century A.D.

Godric Gryffindor knew, without having to be a Seer, that this night would not end well. He could feel it his bones, like a chill.

Despite the fact that this place, founded by his grandfather, was very much his land, he felt ill at ease. Salazar would appear soon. His desire for the wand and the secret it held the key to was far too great. No, it was far too desperate.

He thought of his old friend, who despite their marked differences, he could never truly hate. He thought of everything that they had shared and done together. They'd fought Dark Wizards together, quelled goblins and trolls alike.

Truly, he had never believed that their disagreement about blood purity (it had been oft spirited, but never truly vicious) would result in such a deep divide.

He pondered whether he would leave this place alive. He had no intention of his own death, and he was sure Salazar shared his sentiments entirely.

He had not brought the wand, just as he knew Salazar would not bring the boy. So, he waited. Waited to see what his old friend would do.

"Hello, old friend," called a smooth, confident voice.

Godric whirled around to see Salazar Slytherin, cloaked in a forest green robe, a smile on his face but cold steel in his eyes.

"Where is the boy, Salazar?" Godric asked, not wanting to waste time. He quickly aimed his wand at his old friend who returned in kind.

"Do you take me for a simpleton?" Salazar asked as his eyes narrowed. "Are you quite alone?" Salazar looked around the graveyard.

Godric huffed. "I am so, for I would not trick thou."

"Lie not to thee, brother. Have you brought the wand?"

"Bring forth first the boy."

"You do take me for a simpleton. I shall remedy that. The wand, bring for the wand, Godric. Delay not!"

"Never! Salzar, never! On my son's own grave, you shall never have the wand."

"The boy shall die, Godric."

"You shall strike him not! For you well knows that only he can grant what you seek! Alas, when my heir arrives, he shall grant it. But not to you, never to you."

"Your heir shall have to challenge the boy," Salazar said coldly. "Your heirs have challenged naught but death, and death has oft been the victor."

And with that, Salazar Slytherin took his leave. Godric Gryffindor knew, without having to be a Seer, that he would not see his old friend again.

Page Break

Welsh Coast

Dumbledore Estate

August 1991

Rufus Scrimengeour did not mind visiting Dumbledore at Hogwarts. Visiting him at his estate was an entirely different matter. For one could one only get in and out by a designated Portkey, Apparation was impossible, the whole bloody island was under a Disillusionment charm.

Of course, when you were widely considered as the greatest wizard who ever lived, one could not be too careful. Still, the whole thing made the Minister of Magic somewhat uncomfortable. Like death was lurking around every single corner.

Still, there were pressing matters that could not wait. Therefore, he made his way through the wholly inconvenient journey and then he made his way up the stairs and into Dumbledore's study.

The aged Headmaster was waiting for him and he did not appear ruffled. Then again, he never did. However dark things appeared to be in the Wizard's World, one could count on Albus Dumbledore to always appear calm.

"Rufus," he said warmly. "Have a seat. A sherbet lemon, perhaps? Firewhiskey?"

"It's a little early for me," Rufus said as he sat opposite him. Conversely, Rufus envied and was alarmed by the older man's unflappable demeanor. Tumultuous events were taking place and Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to break a sweat or bat an eye.

Dumbledore nodded with a smile. "Well, you may wonder why I requested your presence today."

"I'm assuming it has something to do with the Weasley boy."

Dumbledore nodded in the affirmative. "You have spoken to Ollivander?"

The Minister of Magic also nodded in the affirmative. "The wand chose him."

"You know what this means."

"Yes. But I can't help thinking that we're overreacting."

"That would be unwise, Rufus. The boy is to be at Hogwarts within in two weeks. The very air of that place is magic, Old Magic. His powers could grow exponentially. And the stronger he gets..."

"...the sooner he will find him. But are you quite certain we even need to worry about him? For all we know, he's dead."

"Which is probably exactly what he wants us to think. And don't forget, it's not only him we need to worry about."

"Gryffindor's descendants will not cause much of a stir."

"One never knows what men will do when power is the objective."

"The wand chose him, Albus. It's his to wield, his to keep."

"And therefore, his to lose. For years, we lived in peace, undisturbed. So undisturbed that we've believe it's a forgone conclusion, a right. It is not."

"Well, what if, after all this time, he's given up the quest?"

Dumbledore shook his head in immediate dismissal. "Rufus, that quest is the very reason for his existence and that wand is the key. Gryffindor knew what he was doing. As did Slytherin. The nets they cast are still there, lying in wait to trap anyone foolish enough to think otherwise."

Rufus sat back in his seat. "How much should his parents be told?"

"As little as possible," Dumbledore said with a sigh. "I must confess, I don't like keeping things from Arthur and Molly. Finer people I've never encountered, I'm sure. But if they knew all, one would not blame them for packing put their brood and disappearing. And Merlin knows, we can't have that."

"Aye, the boy must become what he is meant to become. Let's just hope that he turns out better than the one before."

"Well at the very least, we know he'll be safe at Hogwarts. There's no dark wizard lurking in the shadows to steal him out from under us."

Rufus sighed. He thought of all the people that had said being the Minister of Magic would be boring and how very wrong they all were. "Albus, perhaps it would be wise not to be sure of that."

The aged headmaster cocked his head briefly in contemplation.

"Perhaps it would."

Page Break

King's Cross Station

London, UK 1991

The week before school started was always a tremendously busy one at the Weasley House. There were things to buy, preparations to be made and always, always Arthur and Molly had to deal with the pain of parting with the majority of their children.

However, with Ron finally leaving for Hogwarts, they felt more anxiety than normal. For eleven years of his life, they had managed to shelter somewhat him from the fascination and the fame that surrounded him.

They couldn't do that any longer. The week of preparation was over. Ron was off to Hogwarts, and of course, they were glad of that, but they worried. Ron was still so young. Arthur, though he did his best to hide it, was growing weary of the constant presence of the Aurors and Scrimengeour.

It wasn't that he didn't trust them (though one could never be too careful), it was more the worry that their presence would soon be more of a necessity than an adornment.

The entire Weasley clan was gathered at King's Cross Station, saying their goodbyes.

Ginny, of course was even more sullen than usual. This was to be the first year where everyone went off to Hogwarts...without her. She would be stuck with Mrs. Diggleston, the elderly governess who held the Weasley children in her charge.

Ron felt nervous, more nervous than he wanted to let on. What if the Sorting Hat didn't place him in Gryffindor, or worse said he didn't belong at Hogwarts at all?

Part of him knew that being named the Heir of Gryffindor meant that at the very least, Hogwarts wouldn't magically eject him the second he stepped foot onto the grounds, but he wasn't feeling very rational at the moment.

His father had taken note of his discomfort and pulled him off to the side.

"You'll be fine, Ron. There's no need to be nervous."

Ron blushed furiously. Surely, he wasn't supposed to be that obvious. No ever knew what Duncan was thinking. It was the other way around.

Arthur smiled affectionately at his youngest son. "You come from a long line of proud, noble wizards, Ron. Hold your head high. You have much to learn, yes. And people will probably ask a lot of questions that you don't have the answer to yet. But remember, there is no shame in learning. You are a student, like the rest."

The train blew its final whistle and Ron knew there was no going back now.

"Come on, time to go," Arthur said as he gave his son one last hug.

Arthur led his son back to where the rest of the family was. He gave his parents a final parting hug and readied himself to enter the portal at 9 ¾ Quarters.

Percy had already gone through the portal and Fred and George were gearing up to head through. He heard the stories before, but now here it was. It was his turn.

On the other side of that platform was his future, his destiny and everything he'd heard about for his entire existence. He wished Harry was there, he wished Neville was there.

He wished he didn't have the sinking feeling that for the majority of his life, he was going to feel alone.

He watched Fred and George race each other to the platform and disappear as easy as the wind blowing through a grassy knoll.

He took one breath, looked back at his parents and sister and ran straight through. He barely felt himself passing through the wall, and it was over with before he even realized he'd done it, but there it was.

The Hogwarts Express. His eyes grew wide and filled with awe and excitement. He felt his nerves waning as his curiosity grew.

He looked at the massive train and he couldn't help the grin that broke out onto his face. It was finally, finally happening.

"Ron!" he heard a voice call his name. He looked up to see an equally delighted Harry beckoning him forward.

He dashed over to him. "Harry! There you are!"

The two handed off their luggage and headed for the door.

"I've been looking all over for you," Harry said as they made their way onto the train.

"Just got here," he explained. "Percy took forever. Apparently, he had more books to pack than everyone else."

"Shouldn't that be you with all the books? Hasn't Duncan given you a million to study before your first Potions class."

Ron laughed. "More like a million and one, mate, but he won't be here until next week. He had to go back to Finland."

"Did he say why?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Does he ever?"

They made their way through the train until they spotted an empty compartment. "Any sign of Neville yet?" Harry asked as they made their way in.

"No, haven't seen him. I'm sure he'll be on in a bit. He's more excited than anyone. Can't wait to try out for Quidditch."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, but first-years never make the team. And I'm not quite sure Neville's cut out for Quidditch anyway."

"Yeah, but let's not tell him that."

Ron settled into his seat with Harry next to him and looked out the window. In a couple of hours, they'd be at Hogwarts.

"Are you going to tell Neville about your wand?" Harry asked in a low whisper.

Ron shrugged. He hadn't really given it much thought. "I'm not supposed to broadcast it, but I guess there's no harm in telling Neville."

Before Harry could respond, the door to their compartment opened and in sauntered a beaming Hermione Granger.

Ron didn't know whether to run or scream. How in the world had she found them? Did seeing her in his vision mean he was going to have to deal with her for the rest of his life?

"Ron, Harry, there you are!" she said brightly. She had already changed into her Hogwarts robes and looked bright-eyed and eager. "I've been searching for you everywhere."

She made her into the carriage and got situated right across from Ron. "Did you two get your wands yet? I've been practicing for ages, only a few simple spells, but they've all worked so far."

Harry smiled. "I've gotten mine."

Ron didn't answer. He didn't know if he could. "What spells have you tried Hermione?" he said, trying to change the subject.

"Oh, a few basic ones, unlocking, summoning, floating. Have you been practicing?"

"All the time," he answered honestly. "I've got to."

"I've also been practicing Wizards' Chess. I'll get you yet."

"Don't bet on it, Hermione."

Hermione was about to issue a retort when there was another knock on the door. Neville Longbottom waived happily at his friends and proceeded to enter the carriage. Ron turned bright red. Neville had long forgiven Ron for the Qudditch incident in the forest, but that didn't mean that Ron had forgiven himself.

"Harry, Ron, there you are!" he said with a smile. "Can you believe it, Hogwarts? Finally! Hello," he said noticing Hermione as he sat down next to her. "I'm Neville Longbottom."

"Hermione Granger."

"Oh?" Neville said with a side glance at Harry who had given him a report of Ron's meeting with Hermione. "Lovely to meet you."

She doesn't seem so bad, Ron could've sworn he heard Neville say, but Neville was still silently shaking Hermione's hand.

Spend more than five minutes with her, mate, you'll change your tune.

Neville looked over at Ron with an alarmed look on his face. He said nothing, but Ron got the distinct feeling that he'd accidentally communicated telepathically with Neville. He flushed bright red and said nothing.

Harry, sensing something was amiss, proceeded to lead the group into a comfortable conversation about everything they couldn't wait to do when they arrived.

All was going well and Ron was just beginning to feel comfortable again when the door to their carriage opened once again to reveal the sneering face of Draco Malfoy.

"Weasley, Potter, Longbottom," he said in oily voice. "This carriage must be magically enhanced to handle extra levels of idiot."

Ron fought the urge to gag. "What do you want, Malfoy?" He'd known Draco since nursery days and had loathed him for about as much time.

"Nothing at all, Weasley," Draco said in a voice full of superiority. "I'm just surprised you're on the train at all. Shouldn't you be riding the Seventh Son Chariot or something?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry spat out.

"Oh look, Weasley's got a sidekick. You know, real Seventh Sons don't need help from anybody. I can't wait for everyone to see what a fraud you are."

Ron urged himself not to rise to Draco's baiting. And then Draco's eyes turned on Hermione. "And who might you be?"

Hermione didn't know a thing about Draco Malfoy. But she knew he was a cockroach. "I'm Hermione Granger," she said meeting his eyes unafraid.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Granger?" he asked. "Well, tell me Miss Granger, are you the first in your family to attend Hogwarts?"

Ron knew where this was going and he didn't like it and Hermione had no idea of what she was getting herself into.

"I am," she said proudly.

Draco's eyes widened and then he burst into a cackling laugh. "This is rich," he said after he'd stopped laughing. "Wait, 'til my father hears of this! Britain's one and only Seventh Son in the company of a mudblood!"

That did it. Ron leapt from his chair and was about to bull-rush Malfoy when he heard Harry's voice inside his head.

Ron, don't! You don't know what'll happen if you get upset!

Harry was right and Ron knew it. As much as he wanted to give Draco the black eye he so clearly deserved, but not if it meant other people getting hurt.

"Sod off, Malfoy," Harry said nudging Ron back into his seat. "You wouldn't want to get kicked out of Hogwarts your very first day. Not even your father has the money to pay for that."

Draco smiled rather nastily. "I wouldn't bet on it, Potter," he said with a scoff before turning on his heels and heading down the car.

"If I make it the whole term without ringing his neck, it'll be a miracle," Ron said sullenly.

"What's a mudblood?" Hermione asked, genuinely curious. She could tell it was meant to be an insult, but she had no idea of why.

"Nothing," Ron said firmly. "It doesn't mean a thing. Don't think on it." Something in Ron's tone made Hermione decide not to push the issue, but she had definitely not let it go.

Everyone was silent for a moment, trying to think of something to say. And then the Honeyduke's Express rolled by.

"Anything from the trolley, dears?" called Mrs. Pallathorpe, the trolley witch, who according to Molly Weasley, had been overseeing the trolley since Ron's grandmother went to Hogwarts.

"Six pumpkin pasties, four pumpkin juices, eight chocolate frogs s and a boatload of Bertie's," said Neville, happy for the distraction. He quickly pulled a stack of Galleons from his wallet and purchased it for everyone.

He passed around the treats and longed for a subject. "So, did everyone get new brooms this year? Dad ordered me a brand new CleansSweep Seven."

"Nimbus 2000," Ron said somewhat distractedly.

"Same," Harry said, before biting into a pumpkin pasty.

"Well, I've gotten a Comet 260, it's supposed to be great for a first broom," Hermione said. "But I suspect I won't have much time for flying with all the studying we'll be doing." Hermione paused and then sat straight up. "Oh, my god! You three better change into your robes. We'll be arriving soon. I'll be in the dining car.

She got up from her seat and left and Ron thought (though he could never be certain) that he felt a strong wave of determination coming from her.

"So," Neville said began after a pause. "That's Hermione Granger."

Harry nodded. "The very one. Somehow, I don't think we'll be able to get rid of her."

"Well, that's your own bloody fault, innit?" Ron retorted. "You're the one who invited her to Fortescue's."

"And your mother invited her to tea. I had nothing to do with that."

Neville shrugged. "She's not so bad. She's got an awful lot to say about...everything. But could be worse, couldn't it? And you were going to deck Malfoy for her."

Ron rolled his eyes. "I'd deck Malfoy for anyone, Neville."

"Ron," Neville said slowly. "Could you...I mean...can you hear my thoughts?"

Ron turned bright red. "I can...sometimes. I can't always control it."

Neville was awestruck. "Wicked."

"But it's getting stronger," Harry prodded. "Like happening all the time?"

Ron nodded. "It's not like the telekinesis," he said as he as wandlessly swirled around the chocolate frog card of Gilderoy Lockhart he'd just opened up. "But I think it's getting there."

"It's wicked," Neville repeated.

Ron wasn't inclined to agree with his friend, but he knew better than to argue. Everyone thought being a Seventh Son was wicked. Everyone that is, except him.

They soon heeded Hermione's advice and changed into their robes and then Neville remembered something. "I almost forgot, mates. Did you two get your wands? I've gotten mine," Neville said proudly pulling out it out from his robes. "Twelve inches, cherry and unicorn hair."

Harry reached to show his own. "Holly and Phoenix feather," he said briefly. And then he made a pointed glance towards his best mate. "Ron?"

Ron gave a nervous shrug. He slowly pulled it from his robes. "It's Elder, alder, cedar, and blackthorn."

Neville looked confused. "A wand with different types of wood? I didn't know that was possible. What's the core?"

"It's braided. It's dragon heartstring, thestral hair, unicorn hair and phoenix tailfeather."

Now Neville was astonished. Both his parents were Aurors so he knew a little about powerful wands. "That has to be the most powerful wand ever," he said more than a little awestruck.

Harry smiled. "Well, it should be. Apparently, Gryffindor himself made it."

Neville's jaw dropped. "Really?"

Ron felt his cheeks heating up at his best mate's words. "Apparently so," he said somewhat shyly.

Neville looked impressed. "Ron, can I hold it?"

Ron hesitated. But then he remembered what Duncan said about knowing who you could trust. He may not have had this whole Seventh Son thing worked out, but he knew he could trust Neville.

"Go on, mate."

Neville's hand shook slightly as he held the wand. He could tell it was an exceptionally powerful wand, he felt absolutely no connection to it. It felt like holding a very heavy rock.

"Whoa," he said as he quickly handed it back to Ron. "It's so heavy."

"Not to me," Ron said as he balanced it between his forefingers. "To me, it's like..."

"A part of your arm?" asked Hermione as she sauntered back in. She was clad in her robes and looked ever the perfect and proper student. Ron hadn't even heard her come in. Her eyes fell towards Ron's wand and they narrowed. She stared intensely for a moment. "Is that your wand, Ron? It looks...familiar."

"Oh no, can't be," Ron said quickly. He wanted to tuck it back into his robes, but Hermione had already started towards him.

"I'm certain I've seen it before. Can I have a look?"

Ron hesitated but he couldn't think of a reason to say no. Besides, Hermione was muggle-born. It was doubtful she knew anything about the stories of that wand.

She looked at the wand intently, testing it out in her hands. It was heavy and strong and she felt something like a connection to it, but nothing as to what she felt when she'd gotten her own wand. She knew she'd seen it before. If only she could remember where. And then it dawned on her.

"I read about it!" she exclaimed. "In a book I got from the Alley two weeks ago: Legendary Wands of Europe Volume II. There was a drawing of a wand that looked just like this one. It was said to be made by Gryffindor himself for his heir. It's supposed to be pure legend. But this one looks just like it!"

Ron's jaw dropped and Harry and Neville wore looks of pure astonishment on their faces.

For a moment, no one said anything and then Harry and Neville turned to Ron with pointed looks.

Do we tell her? Ron heard Neville's voice in his head.

Tell her what, came Harry's voice. She bloody knows everything!

The three exchanged quick glances, aware that they were having a telepathic conversation, which had never happened. Thankfully, Hermione was too engrossed in the wand to notice that they'd fallen silent.

Of course, that didn't last long. "Ron, what's it made of?" she asked, bright brown eyes brimming with curiosity. "It's quite heavy, isn't it Heavier than any of the ones I tried at Ollivander's."

"Uh..." Ron fought for words. He glanced at Neville and Harry who looked equally flustered and tight-lipped.

Hermione turned the wand upside down and her eyes got even bigger. There was a small inscription burned into the base of the wand.

"G.G?" she asked looking up at the wand. "G.G.?" she nearly screamed.

"Shhh!" Ron said quickly, not even noticing that he'd telekinetically shut the door.

"This is...this is—," she could barely make the words out.

"Hermione, please be quiet!" Harry said urgently.

Ron sat down next to her clasping his own had over the one of hers that held the wand.

"Yes," he said finally. "Yes. It's Gryffindor's wand. But you can't tell anyone. No one can know. If they do, it could be dangerous. You have to promise you won't say a word."

Ron's eyes bore into hers and she nodded quickly. "Yes, of course. I won't say a thing, I swear. I swear, Ron."

Ron nodded brightly, relief washing over him. He couldn't quite read Hermione's thoughts, but he thought he could sense that she was feeling rather nervous and rather curious. "Thanks," he said finally. And then he realized that he was still holding her hand. He lifted his off quickly and sat back in the chair, away from her.

She wordlessly handed him back his wand and an awkward silence settled over them.

Hermion ventured conversation first. "So..." she said slowly, her voice now a whisper. "If this wand chose you, does that mean that you're Gryffindor's heir?"

Neville's head cocked up at that. Ron hadn't mentioned that to him.

Ron shifted in his seat; he was still uncomfortable about the subject. "Yes, yes it does," he said quickly. "But no one can know that either!" he said looking at Hermione, then Neville and Harry earnestly.

"Well, I won't say a word," Neville said quickly. "You know I won't."

Ron nodded, appreciative of his friends. But he could only imagine how Duncan would react. He hadn't even made it to Hogwarts yet and already more than were supposed to knew about the wand.

"You know, Ron," said Hermione thoughtfully after a moment had passed. "You might want to consider charming the wand."

Ron looked at her, perplexed. "Charm the wand?"

"You know, transfigure it...after all if I recognized it, someone else may too. If it really is dangerous, you may want to transfigure it to look ordinary."

"Hermione, I doubt anyone else is reading books about ancient wands," Harry countered reasonably.

Hermione was undeterred. "Maybe not, but even if they didn't read about it in a book, they may recognize it simply because they know what to look for."

She's got a point mate, Harry said to Ron telepathically. He wasn't quite sure how he managed to do that, only that he did. She's smart. Might not be so bad to have around.

Ron knew Harry was right, just like he knew Hermione was right. "Right," he said slowly.

He put his wand on his lap and stared down at it for a few moments. He needed it to look ordinary. He thought of one of the wands he had tried out at Ollivander's. It had been 10 inches ash and unicorn hair.

Within moments his wand started to glow, turning from the painted yellow to a darker brown. The rubies disappeared and the surface smoothed out.

"There," he said. "If anyone asks, it's ash and unicorn hair."

Hermione was astonished. "You did that without a wand, without a spell, that's amazing." Part of her felt a twinge of jealousy. After all, she'd been working to memorize the entirety of the Standard Book of Spells and Ron didn't appear to need any. She wanted to know how he did that and if, by chance, she would ever be able to do the same.

But there was little time for them to ponder anything else. The whistle was sounding. The train was slowing. They had arrived. Hogwarts was waiting to welcome them.

7th

Over the years, Ron had heard many stories about what the first-year boat ride to Hogwarts was like. He was pretty sure that the stories he'd heard from his father and Bill were probably the most accurate.

He knew George and Fred couldn't be trusted, Charlie had gone on and on about the giant squid and Percy hadn't noticed a thing as he'd been too busy reading.

Still, hearing about it was one thing. Seeing was quite another. As they disembarked from the train, Ron felt his excitement growing.

And then he realized, he could sense it in the crowd. Waves upon waves of excitement and nerves mainly from the new students. But eagerness and the anticipation of seeing old friends from the returning students.

This was new. He was used to hearing random thoughts from time to time, but to feel emotions, feelings and to feel as if they were coupling with his own was something else entirely.

It unnerved him and it intrigued him. He knew his powers were intensifying, evolving and adapting. He might have powers that he still wasn't aware of. But Duncan had told him that Hogwarts was the place to test his limits.

He tried, for the time ever to actually listen for people's thoughts. Usually, he caught random soundbites here and there which he constantly attempted to block out. But now, he was going to try to listen. Try to hear the thoughts of the crowd around him.

He instantly regretted it. Hundreds, thousands of voices entered his head at once. He could hardly make any sense of what he was hearing. Butterbeer...double potions this semester...Quidditch tryouts...Madam Rosmerta...The Boy...

His ached and for a moment, he thought he might actually pass out.

"First-years!" called a bellowing voice, interrupting Ron's telepathic waterfall. He opened his eyes, shutting out the noise and receiving a pummeling headache in return.

Right then, he thought. Won't be trying that for a while.

Ron looked up to where the voice had come from and there stood what had to be the tallest man he'd ever seen. He was tall and burly with a long, full dark colored beard and unkempt hair to match. "Whoa," he said as he approached him, flanked by Harry and Neville.

"Hi Hagrid," Harry said with a voice that oozed familiarity. "This is Ron and Neville," Harry said nodding to his friends. "And that's Hermione. Everyone, this is Hagrid. He works with Dad and Sirius sometimes."

"Harry," said the giant man. "Don't go broadcasting that. That's Ministry business, that is. Here, I'm the groundskeeper, and the Care of Magical Creatures professor, nothing more. Now come on, you and all the rest of the first years, follow me."

The sun was beginning to set over Hogsmeade village and Hermione had to admit: she was nervous. More nervous than she had ever been. For once, she had a chance of belonging. For once, she wouldn't be the freak, the weirdo, the nightmare.

She looked over at Neville and Harry and Ron. For once, there was a chance she might have friends. Who cared if they were all a bunch of boys with hygiene practices that were likely more than likely questionable?

They hadn't conspired to get rid of her yet, hadn't called her a freak. Ron had even defended her. Although from what she was unsure. As she followed the rest of the first-years to the boats, a pang of doubt hit her. Everything she wanted (acceptance, friendship, a magical education) had been laid out in front of her.

She couldn't help but worry that someway, somehow it was all going to be taken away from her.

The Black Lake looked more daunting as darkness settled into Hogsmeade. Lanterns lit up the boats as the eager first years climbed, most ready, if a little apprehensive to begin their education. Harry and Neville raced into a boat, urging Ron and Hermione on.

Ron settled into the boat and looked out at the castle in the distance. There it was. Hogwarts. His family had been attending Hogwarts for thousands of years. He was the latest in a proud, noble Gryffindorian lineage.

He felt proud about everything that had happened to him, even if it scared the living hell out of him. He wanted to make his family proud. He wanted to make Gryffindor proud.

Too soon for his own tastes, the boat ride was over and the first years were being ushered through the front door and up the grand staircase.

They were greeted at the top of the staircase by a tall, older witch dressed in forest green robes who Ron could've sworn was staring right at him. Did she know? If she did, she gave nothing away, for he could not read anything from her, thoughts or emotions.

She turned her eyes over the first years and there was the beginning of a smile tugging at her lips, but as they could all tell, she meant business.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House. Soon, the Great Feast shall commence. But first, you must be sorted into your Houses. The houses of Hogwarts are Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Each of these houses have produced exceptional wizards for thousands of years. During your time at Hogwarts, your house will be like your family. You will live in your house dormitory, play for your House Teams and compete for the House Cup. Any exceptional work will earn your House Points, any rule-breaking shall detract. At the end of the year, the House with the most points will be awarded the House Cup." She paused and Ron again thought she was looking quite at him. "I hope each one of you will be a credit to your House. Now, let us begin. Form a line. Come!"

The aged witch turned on her heels beckoning the students to follow her.

Ron dismissed the heavy feeling in his stomach as nerves. Yes, that was why his heart was pounding. That was why his feet felt leaden and all of a sudden, he felt very, very hot. He was nervous. That was all it was. Nerves.

But something in the deep pit of his stomach told him otherwise. Ollivander had told him to trust his instinct. He knew something was amiss. He just had no idea what.

He entered the Great Hall. He'd seen pictures, of course. But they didn't compare to the real thing. The ceiling that seemed to open up to the heavens, the rows and rows of tables that seemed to go only endlessly. The golden plates and goblets adorning each table, almost forming a gilded path to the teacher's table.

He recognized some of them. There was Remus Lupin, who was known as Uncle Remus to Harry. There was Professor Flitwick who Ron knew was Fred and George's favorite. There were a few other teachers he didn't recognize, an older woman with a kind face, a man with stringy black hair that Ron was certain he'd seen before. A woman with bright blue eyes and a faraway expression. And then there was Dumbledore. He sat there, cloaked in purple, eyes roving around the place. His eyes met Ron's and he smiled.

Ron finally broke the old headmaster's gaze and looked around; the rest of the students were already at their respective House Tables. He could tell that a lot of them were looking at him. He gulped a bit but pressed on.

Professor McGonagall had conjured up a stool. Harry, who had been wrapped up in the excitement of the day had paid no attention to his own nerves, felt them rising as Professor McGonagall explained the Sorting Process.

"The Sorting Hall shall determine your house and, in a way, your family for all your years at Hogwarts. I shall call your name, place the hat on your head and be sorted. Aarons, Elizabeth!"

Hermione watched with eagerness as a young honey-blond girl approached the Sorting Hat. She'd read as much as she could about it, but it was a magical object to which very little research had been done. It had once been Gryffindor's and the magic used to enchant it was said to be very, very powerful.

The young girl sat down on the stool and the Hat lingered over her head for only a few moments. "Hufflepuff!" it called out resoundingly. The girl smiled brightly and the Hufflepuff table cheered.

Ron smiled, sensing the excitement rising in the crowd. For a moment, he was at ease. And then he blinked.

And when he opened his eyes, he wasn't in the Great Hall any longer. He was in a forest, one he was certain he'd never seen before. There was sunlight poking through the trees. He wasn't dressed in his robes. He was standing on what looked like a large rock.

And all of sudden he was aware of something coming towards him. Something that looked like a horse, but wasn't. For starters, it was blacker and scrawnier than any horse Ron had ever seen. He could see it's ribcage and it had wings and a face that reminded him of a lizard.

The horselike thing approached him slowly, taking measured steps. Ron was startled, but something told him to be unafraid. It approached the rock which made it just about eye-level with Ron.

He reached out gently, touching its nose. In return, the creature opened its mouth and dropped something into Ron's hands. He looked down to see a pair of round spectacles that reminded him eerily of Harry's in his hand.

He didn't recognize what the creature was, although Seven Sons were said to be especially in tune with magical creatures. He'd been reading up on them, of course, but it hadn't been a focal point of his studies thus far

"What are you?" he asked as he looked up at the creature.

The creature let out a soft neighing sound before he spoke. "It is not what I am. It is that which goes before me."

Before Ron could respond, there was a noise, like the rustling of leaves. Ron turned to look and thought he saw a centaur fleeing in the distance. He couldn't be quite certain and when he turned, the creature, whatever it had been, was gone.

He looked around for it and suddenly he found himself back in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, moving his head from side to side frantically.

"Ron, are you all right?" Harry asked in a whisper.

"What?" he said suddenly as he once again became aware of his surroundings.

"Are you all right?"

"Oh," he said, his cheeks turning redder than his hair. "Fine...just nervous."

Ron, trying not to think of his vision, turned his attention back to Professor McGonagall. As he did, he noticed the Headmaster and one of the other teachers, a tall man with stringy black hair staring right at him. He decided quickly to think nothing of it.

Professor McGonagall looked down at her list. "Granger, Hermione!" she called.

He looked over at Hermione who was quickly scurrying towards the stool. She was nervous, she had to admit. This was the moment she'd been waiting for since she'd discovered there was such a thing as Hogwarts.

She plopped down on the stool. She heard the voice of the Sorting Hat before it seemed it was fully on her head.

"Well, well what have we here?" the deep, clipped voice whispered, almost directly into Hermione's brain. "Clever, very clever. Good fit for a Ravenclaw, perhaps? What else? Single-mindedly logical, perhaps too much so, but highly determined. Brave and loyal. You want very much to prove yourself. You want very much to be the best. And there's a will here that will not easily be bent, let alone broken. With all that, better be..." Hermione held her breath in anticipation.

"Gryffindor!" Whoops and cheers and applause burst forth from the Gryffindor table as Hermione grinned broadly as she approached the table, relief and excitement filling her every pore. She gave a passing smile to Ron and Harry and sat down next to Percy.

Ron wanted very much to focus on the Sorting Ceremony. But his mind kept going back to his vision. Were those Harry's glasses? And why did that thing have them in its mouth? What was that thing?

He longed to ask Duncan, but he somehow knew what he would say, something along the lines of that it was something he'd have to work out for himself. Bloody hell. He was tired of working things out for himself. He didn't seem to be getting anywhere.

His thoughts were interrupted again when loud cheering was heard from the Slytherin table. Apparently, Malfoy had just joined the ranks of the Snakeheads. Ron and Harry both rolled their eyes. Neither of them had to be a Seer to have seen that one coming.

He was about to lose focus again when Professor McGonagall called out Neville's name. Harry and Ron both knew that Neville had a fear of the Sorting Hat rejecting him. After all, Neville' s magic hadn't manifested until he was six. His grandmother, Augusta had personally contacted Dumbledore to ensure his name was listed on that of magical children. Frank and Alice weren't the sort of purebloods to disown a Squib child, but the rest of the family may have disowned them.

Needless to say, Neville had good reason for being nervous. This moment he'd been simultaneously waiting for and dreading since the moment he'd learned what a wizard was.

He approached the stool and sat on it slowly, hoping and praying that it wouldn't tell him to board the first train home.

"Interesting...interesting," the voice whispered in his head. "Well, there's immense and I do mean immense potential. A degree of self-doubt that's alarming. But there's heart, lots and lots of heart. An unwillingness to give up. Fiercely loyal and a quiet strength about you. That'll definitely come in handy in..."

"Gryffindor!" The smile on Neville's face was irrepressible as he hopped down off the stool and gleefully joined Hermione at the Gryffindor table. Ron was happy for his friends, or at least he hoped he looked happy.

Between his vision and his growing nerves, he could barely focus on anything. Why in Merlin's name did his last name have to start with a "W"?

He looked over at Neville who looked equal parts relieved and thrilled. He looked over at his brothers, greeting the newcomer with big smiles. He wondered if they'd still be smiling when the Sorting Hat placed him.

He suddenly got the feeling that someone was watching him. His eyes darted towards the teachers' table but when he looked, he found that they were all focused on the newest student approaching the stool.

Great, he thought. I'm turning to a paranoid freak already.

He shook his head and willed himself to focus. It didn't prove particularly difficult as McGonagall had just called out Harry's name.

Harry looked over at him and in one glance Ron knew that his best friend was nervous, scared, excited, worried and eager all at the same time. He wondered if he'd ever be able to read anyone as well as he read Harry.

Harry walked purposefully to the stool, trying to suppress his nerves. Both his parents had been in Gryffindor, his grandfather Fleamont had also been in Gryffindor and on it went. He couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

Still, it wasn't his decision to make. His parents had reassured him that he was a shoo-in for Gryffindor. But what else were they supposed to say? They were his parents. It was their job to be encouraging and supportive.

Sirius, too, had assured him, saying "No godson of mine is going to be anywhere but Gryffindor. No one wants to be in Hufflepuff. I mean bless Professor Sprout and all, but no wizard of serious note ever came from Hufflepuff. Ravenclaw is so utterly dull. Oh, you can work out riddles, can you? When was the last time they gave an Order of Merlin for that? And Slytherin—Merlin forbid! Breeding ground for psychopaths, that house is!"

Lily had scolded him, telling Harry that there was merit to be found in all of the Hogwarts Houses. James had voiced his agreement with Lily but Harry had seen the side glance his father had given his best friend and inferred he probably agreed more with Sirius than he let on.

Still, Harry didn't know what the hat would see in him. He was, in his opinion, rather average. He hoped and wished the Hat would see something more.

As he sat on the stool, he heard the hat before he felt it. "What's this? A Potter? Well, let's take a look, shall we? Talented, yes. Trustworthy, tremendously so. A bit the center of your own universe, but unfailingly loyal. It seems you'd take a Killing Curse for those you'd love if need be. Troublemaker...doubtlessly. Your bravery is bordering on recklessness. An inherited trait, I'm afraid. Well, I know just what to do with you..."

"Gryffindor!"

Harry beamed as Professor McGonagall lifted the hat from his head and he dashed over to the table. He received high-fives from all the Weasleys present and Neville. This was it, he was where he belonged. And he couldn't wait to write his parents and Sirius.

Anxiety reached an all-time high for Ron as he watched his closest friend settle in with three of his brothers. They were soon to be emblazoned with red and gold. The only remaining question was, would he?

Several more students were called and sorted. Ron barely heard a word. He was certain that the whole experience would never end until Professor McGonagall looked right at him and called "Weasley, Ronald!"

He gulped. No one ever used his full name. The hush that settled over the Great Hall was instant. Every eye, every mind was turned to him, the Seventh Son, the one marked for greatness, or so everyone believed.

Ron hoped that they were right. The walk up to the Sorting Hat was the longest Ron had known. He was nervous, he was excited, he was bloody scared out of his fucking mind and he knew it.

He could feel every bone in his body. And he could sense the anticipation of everyone in the room. He wouldn't let himself go near hearing thoughts. He was too preoccupied with his own.

He sat on the stool, closed his eyes and waited, as did everyone else.

"Hmm...hmm...," said the Sorting Hat. "Interesting...very interesting. Another Weasley...but different from the rest. A Seventh Son...quite powerful...extremely powerful. Talent just waiting to be harnessed. Courageous, yes? Brash, yes. A slight tendency towards show-boating when pushed and not afraid of violence when provoked. That'll do for a Gryffindor. Unsure to be certain, but willing to work hard to prove yourself. Hufflepuff delights in that kind of eagerness. It's all there, isn't it? There's a mind as well. Cleverer than you give yourself credit for. Highly strategic with an ability to plan ahead and an instinct people would kill for. More in tune with magic than you realize. Now that's the markings of a good Ravenclaw, or perhaps even a Slytherin."

"NO!" Ron shot back. "Not Slytherin!"

"Calm yourself, my good son. With the wand in your robes there's only really one place you're meant for, but you'd do well in them all. You'd bring glory to them all. Or disgrace if you chose it. Your potential is unlimited. Don't be afraid of yourself, but do be afraid of what you could do."

"What does that even mean?"

"It means trust your instincts, Ron. I can say no more. And in fact, we've kept them waiting long enough..."

"Gryffindor!"

Ron's relief was immense. So was his confusion. When he opened his eyes, for a moment there was no applause, no cheers, no anything just a sea of blank stares. Had he heard the Hat wrong?

And then Harry and Neville were leaping to their feet, shouting and clapping.

Fred and George stood up and started shouting "Weasley! Weasley! Weasley!"

Even Percy, never for one joyous celebration, even got up and whistled loudly.

Ron hopped off the stool, and raced over to the Gryffindor table. Harry greeted him with a warm hug, before they remembered that they were boys and awkwardly sprang apart.

"Well done, Ron!" Percy said with a grin as he and Neville eagerly high-five and Hermione smiled broadly at him.

Two more students were sorted and the Sorting Ceremony officially ended. Then the aged Headmaster rose to his feet and walked to the podium.

"Welcome to Hogwarts!" he said warmly. "It is to be, I feel, a momentous year. First, a few rules to our first years: The Dark Forest is absolutely, positively, and unconditionally forbidden. Curfew is to be strictly adhered to. No exceptions. And lastly, good luck. For your time here is to be some of the most special of your young lives. And please everyone at Hogwarts, do give a warm welcome to our new Astromony teacher, Ms. Leah Grandelfleu."

The woman with the large blue eyes who Ron hadn't recognized immediately stood, nodded towards Dumbledore, smiled and reclaimed her seat. Dumbledore returned her smile and faced the students once again.

"Now, I think we've all worked up quite the appetite. Let the feast commence!" Dumbledore flourished his hands and the once bare plates filled up with every delectable and delicious food anyone could think of.

For a moment, Ron forgot all of his anxiety and fears and the vision and the cryptic words of the Sorting Hat. For a moment, there was nothing to do but be in the moment.

7th

Later that evening, after Percy had led the new Gryffindor students to their common room in Gryffindor tower and they'd met the Fat Lady, the infamous and tone-deaf portrait guard of the Tower, Ron, Harry and Neville had met the other Gryffindor boys in their year. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan.

Hermione had also met the other Gryffindor girls and had decided that she absolutely nothing in common with Lavender Brown, Pavarti Patil or Nicola Barker. The three of them were in the corner, promptly talking about how cute they thought the Ravenclaw prefect was. Hermione wanted to gag.

How could they possibly think of boys when there were subjects to study for? She was genuinely shocked.

As it was rather late and everyone was rather full, conversation was forgone in favor of sleep.

But Ron didn't sleep long. In fact, he couldn't say how long he was asleep.

All he knew was that he awoke, and he was not in Gryffindor tower when he did so. In fact, he wasn't even on the ground. His eyes opened to a brilliant, star-filled night sky.

A scream caught in his throat when he realized that the Black Lake was beneath him.

For an instant, he started to fall, descending quickly toward the water below. And then it dawned on him: he could fly. It had been so long since he'd flown in his sleep that he'd rather forgotten about it. He'd been control of it for quite some time.

He got his wits about him and floated right before he went splat into the lake. Grinning broadly, something told him to explore. He raced above the Black Lake, spotting creatures he didn't recognize in the water below. As the wind raced through his hair, he felt stronger, more alive. As if somehow, it was the grounds of Hogwarts that would give him strength.

He didn't know if he was being barmy, but it was a nice thought.

He changed courses and flew over the greenhouses, the Forbidden Forest, and Hogsmeade. It was the longest he could ever remember flying.

Finally, he circled around the entire castle. He hovered above and thinking about the earlier morning, he decided he wanted to try something.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and listened.

There were much fewer voices than before as the majority of the castle was sound asleep.

I can't wait for flying lessons, from a female voice he didn't recognize, but clearly a fellow first year.

I wonder if Alice Blander going to make Quidditch Captain again this year, from an older male voice.

If I study for another hour, I'll have just enough time to start on my Potions experiment, this from a voice which Ron immediately recognized as Percy's. He rolled his eyes and chuckled. Only Percy would be up in the middle of the night, studying.

Just as Ron was about to see if he could focus it, to maybe seek out the thoughts of a specific person, he felt the strange sensation again: that he was being watched.

Obviously, he didn't expect to see someone else in the sky. He glanced around just to be sure, and found no one. Still, the feeling unnerved him enough that he decided it was time to be back in bed.

It then occurred to him that he had no idea how he was going to get back into the castle. The only way he knew to Gryffindor tower was through the front door. He couldn't just fly the Gryffindor tower window, that was sure to cause a scene, and he didn't want to go losing House Points right away.

He brought himself down to right outside the front door. He knew that the door was locked and probably had a hundred enchantments on it that he couldn't hope to break.

For a second he thought about trying to telepathically communicate with Harry but then he realized that most likely get them both in trouble.

He groaned in frustration trying to figure out how he was going to get inside of the building.

A moment later, he found himself inside the building, on the other side of the front door.

He didn't know how he'd done that, but he grinned in spite of his ignorance. Sometimes being a Seventh Son was wicked.

He was about to head to the staircases when he paused. There at the front entrance stood the towering bronze statues of the Four Founders. They were said to be enchanted, that every once in a while, they would speak.

He looked up at the statue of Gryffindor, and could sense fire and fury in his frozen gaze.

"I don't know why the wand chose me, sir," Ron said in a whisper. "But I'll try not to let you down."

And with that he scurried to the staircases, praying that the Fat Lady wouldn't rat him out.

7th

If Ron worried about the Fat Lady informing the Headmaster that he was out of bed after hours, he had no need to do so. For Albus Dumbledore knew very well that young Ronald was out of bed and indeed out of the castle, after hours.

Under normal circumstances, that was cause for points to be removed from Gryffindor, but the Headmaster found himself in a forgiving mood. After all, he knew perfectly well it wasn't the young man's fault.

Although, he would make it a point to remind Ronald that perhaps he ought to take a small dose of the sleeping draught. After all, he couldn't have him buzzing about the grounds at all hours of the night. That would be...unwise.

He took his tea, as he always did on the night of a new school year, with the Sorting Hat, whose name was actually Cato.

"A good crop this year, Cato, do you think?"

The Hat grunted somewhat noncommittally. "There's talent to be sure, Albus. Right now, they're all unpolished lumps. But with a little heat, I'm sure you'll discover diamonds."

"And what of our young Ronald?"

"It has been many, many moons since I've been placed on a Seventh Son. Nothing quite like it, I'm quite certain. He is powerful, to be sure. He will need guidance."

"His mentor is set to arrive within the week. He's quite a capable wizard, I'm sure he will do all he can to help him."

"Albus, do me a favor, if you will."

"Anything, Cato."

"Whatever it is you are planning, whatever wholly noble, but thoroughly convoluted scheme you have woven to ensure that the boy fulfills his destiny and that the secret of that wand remains secret, do try not to bungle it up. The consequences of an error on your part in either regard would be...rather unpleasant."

The Headmaster smiled. "You have my word, Cato, I shall make every endeavor to not bungle it up. However, matter such as these are not always easily controlled."

Cato shook his pointed tip. "On that, old friend, we agree."

The Headmaster watched as Ron entered Gryffindor tower and flung himself into bed. He didn't have it in his heart to admit to Cato, though truthfully speaking, he probably knew anyway, that there was so much already out of his control.

Please read and review and I promise I'll try not to keep you waiitng for too long! XOXO