Harry could feel his wand against his chest, but he made no attempt to draw it. He knew that the snake was too well protected, knew that if he managed to point the wand at Nagini, fifty curses would hit him first. And still, Voldemort and Harry looked at each other, and now Voldemort tilted his head a little to the side, considering the boy standing before him, and a singularly mirthless smile curled the lipless mouth.

"Harry Potter," he said very softly. His voice might have been part of the spitting fire. "The Boy Who Lived."

None of the Death Eaters moved. They were waiting: Everything was waiting. Hagrid was struggling, and Bellatrix was panting, and Harry thought inexplicably of Ginny, and her blazing look, and the feel of her lips on his- Voldemort had raised his wand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded. Harry looked back into the red eyes, and wanted it to happen now, quickly, while he could still stand, before he lost control, before he betrayed fear-

He saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone.

Harry

He felt considerable pain, his entire body aching. The spot where the killing curse had hit felt like the victim of an iron clad punch. He felt something soft all around him. Was this what the afterlife felt like? He listened, but there was nothing, not a sound, no sign of Voldemort or his Death Eaters.

Then, a woman shrieked, and his eyes snapped open.

"RONALD WEASLEY! GET UP THIS INSTANT OR WE'RE GOING TO BE LATE!"

Harry was looking up at a familiar ceiling. It was the ceiling of Ron's bedroom, in the Burrow. Noticing this to be slightly odd, Harry sat up. He was lying in Ron's bed. How he had gotten there, he didn't know. Had it all been a dream?

He looked around for Ron, wondering where he was. He felt strangely short. When he looked around the room, there was no sign of Ron at all. In fact, there was no sign that anyone other than him had even slept in the room at all. There was, however, a trunk lying on the floor at the foot of the bed. He got out of Ron's bed and exited the room.

He traveled to the bathroom and turned on the light. When he looked in the mirror, he almost screamed.

He was Ron.

Or, more accurately, he was Ron from seven years ago, looking about the same age as when Harry had met him. Was this real? Was he dreaming?

He pinched himself, and flinched with pain. This was real all right.

Mrs. Weasley's voice sounded again. "RONALD! GET DOWN HERE OR WE'RE LEAVING WITHOUT YOU!" Harry went back to Ron's room and quickly got dressed, then went down to the kitchen of the Burrow. Fred, George, Percy, Mrs. Weasley, and Ginny we're all waiting for him, and they all had their trunks ready. Harry gave a bit of a start when he saw Ginny and Fred.

"About time!" said Mrs. Weasley. Fred muttered to George, "Wouldn't it have been great if we had just left him here?" Harry looked at Fred. It was shocking for him to just have died, and then seeing him alive and well again. With a huge effort he looked away again.

The six of them all piled into the Weasley's Ford Anglia and began the drive to King's Cross station. Harry was silent the entire way there. By the looks of things, he had been transported back in time to his first day at Hogwarts, but for some reason he had been placed inside Ron's body. Did that mean that Ron was in Harry's body? Where was he now? The Dursley's, thought Harry. Poor Ron…

When they reached King's Cross, he looked around wildly for some glimpse of himself… or Ron, anyway. He spotted Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley with someone who looked like his eleven-year-old self, with a luggage trolley that had books and a cage with Hedwig in it

"There you go," said Uncle Vernon. "Platform nine, platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, have they?"

Laughing, the Dursleys went off, leaving Harry- or Ron, he wasn't sure- looking confused and bewildered. Harry made his way to the other Harry- Ron- whatever. The other Harry looked at him and his eyes widened.

"Are- what- are you- Harry Poter?" he said.

"Ron…" said Harry. "I don't know what happened, but I can explain everything on the train," Harry said. "Just- act like you're me, okay?"

Ron was confused. "How do you know me?"

"Come on!" said Harry, and he dragged Ron toward the barrier, where the other Weasleys were also approaching. He heard Mrs. Weasley say, "Now what's the platform number?"

"Nine and three quarters!" said Ginny. "Mum, can't I go?"

"You're not old enough yet, now-" Mrs. Weasley had noticed Ron and Harry. "Ron? What are you doing with him?"

"This- this is Harry Potter," said Harry. Or I am, anyway, he thought to himself silently. Ron, who looked like Harry, gave a confused nod.

Mrs. Weasley looked at the scar on Ron's forehead a moment, and then said, "New? Ron's starting too."

Ron looked at Harry, as if he still couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Yes."

"Come on," said Harry. "The train's going to leave soon." He glanced up at the clock. It was 10:53 AM, seven minutes before the departure of the Hogwarts Express.

The Weasleys and Harry disappeared through the barrier one by one. Harry saw the scarlet steam engine billowing steam across platform nine and three quarters. Ron was behind him, looking a bit ill. Harry pulled him forward.

"Come on," he said, pulling Ron with him. "We need to get onto the train." And without another word, he pulled Ron with him onto the Hogwarts Express.