Chapter Seven: Glimpses Of The Future
12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London
August 4th, 1997
When Ron came out of his vision of the latest 'what might have been', the first thought to pass through his mind was, { Do I really have to be dosed with truth serum in order to be able to come up with ideas like that? } He vaguely recalled Percy saying something once that veritaserum effectively turned off a person's emotions, and that allowed the witch or wizard to –
{ Percy. } Ron immediately felt greatly conflicted about his older brother. For two years now, Percival Ignatius Weasley had effectively been cast out of the family, and yet – he was still a sibling, and so Ron couldn't help missing that annoying prat. Well, sometimes. { Maybe I can arrange to talk to Perce at some point? Maybe he can actually help Harry, Hermione and me, if he's not evil – }
Ron blinked, as he noticed Hermione rushing over towards him. "What-?"
WHAP!
"How dare you say all those rotten, nasty things about Professor Dumbledore?!" the enraged witch practically screamed, after slapping his face.
"Hermione, calm down! Keep in mind that Ron didn't actually say all that stuff, that was just what could have –" Harry managed to drag the young woman backwards, as she tried to slap Ron again.
"I don't care! He still insulted the memory of the finest wizard who ever lived! Ron Weasley, I'm not speaking to you anymore!" Still practically spitting fire, Hermione turned around and stormed off in the general direction of the kitchen.
"I... I should avoid her until Hermione calms down, right?" Ron said sheepishly. "Probably wisest, anyway."
"Yeah," Harry agreed, a little coldly. "Because after hearing all that? I need some time to calm down as well, truth be told."
"Hacked you off as well, did I? Not surprising, I suppose. Always seem to make things worse, don't I?" Ron shrugged.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, now sounding more surprised than annoyed.
"Come on, mate, think about it," Ron said musingly. "Other than McGonagall's chess set during our first year, what real help have I ever been to you? Honestly."
"You've helped lots of times –" Harry started to protest.
"Second year, I failed to notice what was wrong with Ginny, and you had to risk your own life in order to save hers," Ron cut him off. "Third year, Hermione stopped speaking to me for months because of how I reacted to that Firebolt and Scabbers – sorry, Pettigrew. Fourth year, I turned my back on you when you needed me the most, not to mention how I ruined the Yule Ball for a lot of people. Fifth year, that almighty cock-up in the Department of Mysteries – I was no help to anyone, both before and after I summoned that bloody brain and ended up with all those scars. Last year was the worst, though – I made Hermione cry for months after choosing Lavender instead of her, and then I nearly got myself killed with that poisoned mead! If it hadn't been for you giving me that bezoar –"
"Stop," Harry interrupted. "Honestly, Ron, you really need to do something about your inferiority complex! I mean, have you already forgotten what that Mirror showed us just now?" The Chosen One gestured over towards Mirror Draco, who was silently smirking at them. "You could have become special assistant to the Minister of Magic himself, just like your brother Percy! You could have –"
"Could have what, Harry? Been forced to constantly drink veritaserum, in order to actually be useful to someone?" Ron interrupted scornfully. "Scrimgeour didn't really want me, did he; he just wanted someone with my knowledge, and with my emotions switched off so that they wouldn't interfere with the job. And just how long would that job have lasted, anyway? Hermione was right to be angry about me sacrificing my education that way – because once the war was over, what reason would good old Rufus have had to keep someone on who'd only barely passed his O.W.L.s? Odds are I'd have been sacked and ended up the next Stan Shunpike on the Knight Bus, or maybe a dishwasher at the Hog's Head!"
"You always have to look at things in the worst possible way, don't you?" Harry sighed in annoyance. "Honestly, Ron. Can't you just, I dunno, think positive for once?"
"Why should he, Scarhead?" Mirror Draco suddenly spoke up, injecting himself into the conversation as both boys turned to look at the Mirror. "After all, it's the people who are realists in this world that actually prosper, long-term. Most of them are heartless bastards, sure – but then, the history of the world is the triumph of the heartless over the mindless, isn't it?"
"Yeah, well, I'm sure you'd think so," Ron growled, glancing at the Mirror of Infinite Possibilities in disgust. "Ugh. What else could happen?"
Before Harry could reply, there was a loud crashing noise from the direction of the kitchen. Ron winced, it sounded like Hermione was in a right foul temper!
"Be back in a minute or so," Harry said nervously, before turning around and quickly heading off.
"Almost thought those two would never leave," Mirror Draco said triumphantly, as soon as Harry vanished from view. "Now, I assume you're ready to put the act aside, and use me for what I was actually designed for?"
Ron was momentarily stunned. { Act? What's this thing going on about now? } Deciding it would be better not to say anything, he just nodded silently.
"All right. How far ahead do you want to look and see what the most likely possibilities are?" Mirror Draco asked, suddenly all business. "And you should – wait, you do know that nobody who's not of Weasley blood is allowed to learn that I can actually do that, right? No idea yet how much Master Frugoldus's son told you, after all, what with you having to play the part of a clown in front of those outsiders."
"Grand-dad Septimus told me enough," Ron said automatically, still trying to think straight and understand what was going on. { Hang on, is this thing actually offering to let me look into the future? And here I failed Divination! Bloody hell, I need to – no, wait, I can't get the other two involved, can I? The Mirror will only do this for me, of all people... }
"Well?" Mirror Draco said impatiently.
"Early January," Ron said abruptly, picking a date off the top of his head – something not too far away, yet not too close to the present time. "Show me the most likely possibility of what me, Harry and Hermione are doing, say, January the third?"
The Mirror of Infinite Possibilities didn't bother to reply – instead, that blazing white light engulfed him, and then Ron saw and heard –
Near the edge of the Forest of Dean, Gloucestershire
January 3rd, 1998
He appeared out of nowhere in the darkness and gloom of the forest, clutching the Deluminator Dumbledore had bequeathed to him tightly. { This time, } Ron thought to himself hopefully, { maybe this time, I'll actually find them... }
It had been five weeks to the day since he'd last seen Harry and Hermione, which was his own fault, Ron admitted to himself shamefully. And all this time, he'd been getting three square meals a day staying with Bill and Fleur at Shell Cottage; but Merlin only knew what his best mates had been eating! Ron still remembered that argument after the poor excuse for dinner where Harry had screamed at him to get out of the wizarding tent they'd been forced to live in, after abandoning Number Twelve Grimmauld Place; to go home and pretend he'd gotten over the spattergroit, so that "Mummy'll be able to feed you up!"
{ Shite, but I made a complete balls-up of things. } It was tempting to blame Slytherin's locket for his decision to accept Harry's orders and leave, of course. And while it was true that he'd been more vulnerable to the Horcrux's mind-altering effects than both Harry and Hermione – Ron knew he had to shoulder most of the blame for walking out and disapparating that night.
Not to mention coping with the memory of Hermione screaming his name and begging him not to go, not to abandon her and Harry... that was like having to live with a knife embedded deep in his heart. If only he hadn't run into that pack of Snatchers, he'd have come back the very next minute –
Ron sighed. { What's done is done, no point in thinking about the past anymore. Concentrate on the present and future – namely, finding your friends and seeing if they still want you around any longer! }
He started walking, looking for any sign of the wizarding tent in question. Ron wasn't all that hopeful that he'd find it – Hermione's protection spells were a lot better than his ability to detect and penetrate them – but maybe this time...
He walked for hours, and just when he was about to give up, kip under a tree and wait for morning, the young wizard saw something. A dark shadow, vaguely human-shaped, moving between the trees.
{ Could be a trap, } Ron thought to himself, as he slowly moved off in that general direction. { Or maybe it's them. Not sure if – }
But at that moment, the patronus showed itself.
It was beautiful – a silver doe. She was moon-bright and dazzling, making her way over the ground, completely silent and leaving no hoofprints in the fine powdering of snow.
{ Harry! No, wait – his patronus is a stag, the antlers are missing, } Ron immediately dampened down his initial excitement. But then he thought to himself, { Whose patronus is this, then? Hang on, maybe it is Harry's – didn't Tonks's patronus change last year? And if hers did, why couldn't his? }
Deciding to follow the doe in the hope it would lead him to his friends, Ron slowly and carefully set off after the patronus, keeping an eye out for any potential ambush sites. Slowly, then, he followed it to a small, frozen pool of water, somewhere in the depths of forest – before the silver doe abruptly vanished.
Ron looked around, but no one else seemed to be present; neither friend nor enemy. Neither greeting nor Killing Curse awaited him here, it seemed.
{ So, then, why? } Ron asked himself, as he looked around carefully and pointed his wand skyward. "Lumos!"
And that was when he saw it. The ice reflected his distorted shadow and the beam of wandlight, but deep below in the water itself, something else glinted. A great silver cross, or so it seemed...
"It can't be," Ron muttered to himself, dropping to his knees and trying to illuminate the bottom of the pool as much as possible. "Surely not..."
No, he was right the first time. The Sword of Gryffindor was lying at the bottom of the forest pool. Ron knew the weapon; he had seen it before in his memories – when the Mirror of Infinite Possibilities had shown what might have happened, at the end of his second year at Hogwarts. Those rubies were unmistakable, if nothing else.
{ Still, who put it here? } he asked himself, looking around suspiciously. Ron hadn't forgotten that dark shadow he had spotted for a moment, before he'd started trailing after the doe patronus. Had that been an ally, or an enemy? Probably the latter, given the way his luck ran – but no, that didn't make any sense; why would an enemy hand over a weapon that could kill horcruxes, even indirectly like this?
"Bugger it," Ron muttered to himself, deciding that nothing ventured, nothing gained. He pointed his wand and chanted, "Accio Sword!"
Nothing happened.
{ Should've known it wouldn't be that simple, } the youth thought to himself wearily, briefly recalling all the stories he'd heard about Godric Gryffindor. { Bloke would've made sure no one could summon the sword away from him that way in battle, after all. Well, guess there's no help for it... }
Glancing around to make sure no one else was present, Ron quickly began to disrobe until he stood barefoot in the snow, wearing nothing but his underwear. Teeth chattering, he then pointed his wand at the ice, and cast the strongest Cutting charm he could: "Diffindo!"
It cracked apart instantly, chunks of ice floating away on the ruffled water. Grimacing, Ron quickly submerged himself into the pool, grabbed the Sword and then hauled himself out of the freezing water, shivering in agony. "GAAAH! Cold, cold, cold!" he cursed violently, before grabbing his wand and casting both drying and heating charms as quickly as he could.
{ Never doing that again, } Ron thought to himself firmly, as he quickly got dressed and moved away from the frozen pool of water, slinging his rucksack over one shoulder as he grasped his wand in one hand and the Sword in the other. { Never again – not for all the food at Hogwarts! }
{ Well, now what? } Ron asked himself, as he began to head back to where he'd started from. { I've got the Sword, but I don't have the locket Horcrux – and I don't have Harry and Hermione, either. And how the bloody hell do I get through Hermione's enchantments, once I do find them? }
"Ron..."
{ The Deluminator! } he thought excitedly, having just heard Hermione's voice come out of the device. The ginger quickly put his wand into one of the pockets of his robes, and brought it out. He clicked the Deluminator, and just like on Christmas morning, a ball of light appeared – pulsing and bluish.
The ball of light took off, and Ron quickly followed suit. Following the light through the forest, he tracked it to a circular-shaped hollow roughly seventy feet in diameter, which was blessedly free of trees – and then the ball of light abruptly extinguished itself.
{ Must have run into Hermione's protective enchantments, } Ron thought to himself, slowing down at once. He came to the edge of the hollow, contemplating his next move. { All right, let's try this... }
Ron retired the Deluminator, brought out his wand and apparated into roughly the middle of the hollow. Hopefully, he'd bypass the wards and wouldn't trigger an alarm –
Luck was apparently with him, for once; the wizarding tent appeared right in front of him, and the protections seemed to remain intact. He couldn't see or hear anything coming out of the tent, though, and so Ron cautiously made his way inside –
All rational thought instantly stopped dead.
Ron stood there in the dim blue illumination of the tent, the bluebell flames barely shimmering in a bowl on the floor, but – there was still enough light to see Harry and Hermione naked in Potter's bed, with Hermione's knickers and Harry's Y-fronts carelessly tossed onto the floor –
Standing there, Ron bore witness to every sigh, every moan, every gasp of pleasure from both of them as Harry buried himself deep within Hermione's innermost core –
Ron abruptly found himself standing outside the tent, even though he had no memory of turning around and ceasing to watch those two make love to one another. He didn't remember grabbing Slytherin's locket, either, but he must have done so – he was now holding it in his hand, after all...
{ Harry and Hermione are shagging nowadays, } was the first coherent thought that went through Ron's confused and discomfited brain, as he made his way over to a nearby log and sat down, almost collapsing upon it. { Well – that's rather unexpected, isn't it? }
The urge to laugh wildly like a madman suddenly hit him like a tidal wave. But after getting a better grip on his emotions, Ron slowly thought to himself, { No, actually... it isn't unexpected at all, is it? Let's face it, mate; deep down, you've been waiting for this to happen for a long time now. Ever since – when? Back at the start of sixth year, when Hermione said Harry had never been more fanciable? Or maybe even before that... }
A lone tear began to roll down his right cheek, before Ron angrily wiped it away. { Get ahold of yourself, you berk – you always suspected that Hermione would choose him instead of you, didn't you? What was it that Dean Thomas once said, about like calling to like? You've always known that you're nothing special, just another Weasley son – while he's the effing Chosen One, and she's the most brilliant witch since Rowena Ravenclaw herself. So who else would they choose, except each other? }
Slowly, Ron got the lead ball in his chest that was threatening to drown him under control. It could have taken a minute, or an hour – time had lost pretty much all meaning for him, by this point – but eventually, the ginger could think clearly and strategically again. And the first thought to cross his mind as the dawn arrived was –
{ Get rid of the Horcrux. }
Yes. That was the right thing to do. There was still a war on, regardless of what was happening here in the Forest of Dean – the locket definitely needed to be destroyed, and as soon as possible. And the other horcruxes as well, whatever and wherever they were.
Making his mind up, Ron slowly moved his rucksack to the side and placed the locket on top of the log, giving himself plenty of room and waiting until he'd gotten his emotions completely under control. He then raised the Sword of Gryffindor, and –
The locket rattled once, before the golden doors swung open with a soft 'click'. Behind both of the glass windows within blinked a living eye, dark and human as Tom Riddle's eyes had once been – before they'd become scarlet and slit-pupiled, according to his best friend.
Former best friend, now.
Then a high, cold voice hissed from out of the Horcrux, like a snake mimicking human speech.
"I have seen your heart, Ronald Bilius Weasley, and it is mine."
"Really?" Ron replied, lowering the sword slightly. "That's odd, I don't recall selling it to you. You probably tried to cheat me on the price, though, even if I did."
Voldemort's voice continued, although it now sounded less certain of itself. "I have seen all your worst fears come to life, little wizard. Betrayal, rejection... Least loved, always, by the mother who craved a daughter... unloved, now, by the girl who prefers your former friend... second best, always, eternally overshadowed..."
"Tell me something I don't already know, mate. No, don't bother; this conversation is completely pointless," Ron said simply, as he began to swing the sword downwards.
"WAIT!" the voice said urgently, and then a head began to extend out of the glass surface of the locket before it was joined by a physical form. It was an older Tom Riddle than the Diary Horcrux; he was no longer a teenager, and Riddle's skin was much paler, and his eyes had a red tint that was rather disturbing; but for all that, he still looked human enough.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle. Son of a muggle and a near-squib," Ron said facetiously, ignoring the evil scowl immediately sent in his direction.
"Ron Weasley. Son of a family of blood traitors," Riddle hissed, sounding more like a snake than ever. "You dare presume to kill me?"
"Got to be done. And it's not like you're the real You-Know-Who, you know," Ron shrugged casually. Deep down, he was amazed at how disrespectfully flippant he was being towards the British wizarding world's bogeyman – but then again, after seeing Harry and Hermione shag right in front of him? Ron suspected he probably wasn't all there in the head, right now. "So, was there a point to this, or are you just wasting my time?"
"I have seen and felt the treachery of your so-called friends," Riddle said slowly, as an evil smile appeared on his lips. "We could come to an agreement, mutually beneficial to us both..."
"What, are you actually trying to convince me to return you back to your creator? Oh, sure, that'd work – right up until the point You-Know-Who kills me," Ron shook his head in disbelief. "Goodbye."
"WAIT!" Riddle shouted again, starting to look – not worried, exactly, but... concerned. "There is another piece of information I can offer in trade, if you were to spare me."
"Not interested, sorry."
"Not even in the location of another Horcrux?"
Pausing in mid-swing yet again, Ron narrowed his eyes. "Where?"
"It is – close by," Riddle abruptly smiled again, as if now sensing an advantage and considering how to leverage it successfully.
"Pull the other one, Riddle, it's got bells on. As if the real you would have buried a Horcrux somewhere in this forest," Ron semi-sneered, raising the Sword again.
"I didn't say that," the locket Horcrux said hurriedly. "Nonetheless there is another Horcrux nearby, we can sense each other – indeed, I have been sensing its presence for months now. Swear on your life and magic not to destroy me, and I will relinquish that secret. How say you?"
For one timeless moment, wizard and Horcrux stared at one another –
The Sword flashed in the morning light, and plunged down; there was a clang of metal on metal, and then a loud, agonized scream as the locket died. Not to mention, there was a blaze of purple light as it exploded – and then all that was left was two shattered pieces of metal, that had once been Salazar Slytherin's golden locket.
{ Well... guess that's done, then, } Ron thought to himself tiredly as he rested the tip of the Sword in the snow at his feet, holding the handle with both hands as he contemplated his next move. { Now what? Maybe I should just leave, let those two enjoy their time together-? }
"RON?! You're back!" Harry's voice was both amazed and confused, as he came running out of the tent with nothing but his underwear on.
"So he is – wait, is that the Horcrux? Goodness, did he actually kill it?" Hermione's voice, initially full of disdain, was suddenly full of astonishment and disbelief as she came out of the tent as well, wearing nothing but a thin robe to guard her against the cold of the forest hollow.
Ron ignored her, though, focusing totally on Harry. The way he was rubbing his forehead, the lightning bolt scar to be precise.
Then Ron remembered what the locket Horcrux had just said –
{ The location of another Horcrux. It is – close by. }
{ We can sense each other. }
{ Indeed, I have been sensing its presence for months now. }
Ron's eyes widened in horror, as his brain made an intuitive leap and he abruptly figured out precisely what Harry Potter was, and who exactly the locket had been referring to. And the ginger was sure that the Horcrux hadn't been lying – it had been desperate, trying to survive after it couldn't attack him mentally anymore... and the locket had to have known that lies were useless at that point, that would just be delaying the inevitable...
"Ron? Why are you looking at me that way?" Harry asked in confusion, as the Sword slipped from Ron's grasp and fell to the snow-covered ground.
12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London
August 4th, 1997
Ron blinked repeatedly, as the white light vanished and he came out of the latest vision the Mirror had provided. Unfortunately for him, his mind simply couldn't cope with everything he'd just seen and heard, as his mouth opened and closed repeatedly...
Abandoning Grimmauld Place. Abandoning his friends. Seeing Harry and Hermione making love, like there was no tomorrow...
Learning that Harry Potter – was a Horcrux?
{ It can't be true, } Ron thought to himself desperately, focusing only on the Horcrux thing right now – because trying to think about all the rest of it would leave him a complete, gibbering mess. "No. NO! Harry can't be a Horcrux!"
"Don't be daft, of course Scarhead's a Horcrux – an unintentional one, yeah, but still," Mirror Draco said uncaringly, and Ron had never before wanted to smash that Mirror as much as he did at that moment. "Snake-face's soul was so fragile by then, a piece of it was ripped off thanks to the Killing Curse that night, and attached itself to the only living thing in that bedroom – Potter the rotter, himself. Why else did you think Dumbledore always protected the Pot-head, like a prize pig being raised for slaughter? The same brilliant, manipulative poof who always followed the ideals of the so-called Greater Good, ever since he met Gellert Grindelwald?"
"So You-Know... V-Voldemort's already won?" Ron forced himself to finally say the word, despair completely covering him like a shroud. "I mean, if the prophecy's right and it all comes down to one of them killing the other, and Harry's a Horcrux who needs to die... then he wins, right?"
"No, of course not," Mirror Draco frowned at him, as if surprised by his choice of words. "There are plenty of possibilities where Snake-face ultimately loses –"
"Then show me the one where our side – that is, the Order of the Phoenix – wins, with the least amount of life lost," Ron interrupted, hope quickly rekindling in his heart – even though the situation was such that even if the enemy lost the war, he himself had already lost everything that mattered to him now... apart from his family.
For the first time, Mirror Draco actually looked alarmed. "No, you don't understand; I mustn't do that!"
"Why not?"
"Because if I do, I'll attract the attention of a certain – entity. And that thing will utterly destroy me, for going somewhere I shouldn't," Mirror Draco shook his head vehemently. "Likes its privacy, it does!"
"I don't care. Show me," Ron ordered the Mirror of Infinite Possibilities in no uncertain terms.
A number of expressions appeared to run across Mirror Draco's face – shock, then horror, and then finally hatred – before the blazing white light appeared, one last time.
Ron braced himself, as he saw and heard –
Not far from the Room of Requirement, seventh floor corridor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
May 2nd, 1998
"Hello, Minister!" Percy bellowed, sending a neat jinx straight at Scrimgeour's successor, Pius Thicknesse – who dropped his wand and clawed at the front of his robes, apparently in awful discomfort. "Did I mention I'm resigning?"
"You're joking, Perce!" Fred shouted, as the Death Eater he was battling collapsed under the weight of three separate Stunning Spells. George's other half then saw how Thicknesse had fallen to the ground with tiny spikes erupting all over him; the man seemed to be turning into some form of sea urchin, bizarre as the comparison seemed to be right now.
Fred looked at Percy with glee. "You actually are joking, Perce... I don't think I've heard you joke since you were –"
They were all grouped together; Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, Percy, the two Death Eaters at their feet – one stunned, the other transfigured – and at that moment, when danger seemed temporarily at bay...
Ron's head snapped up and he dived on top of Fred, apparently ignoring his older brother's squawk of surprise.
The next moment the air exploded, the world was rent apart, and Harry felt himself flying through the air. All he could do was hold as tightly as possible to that thin stick of wood that was his one and only weapon, and shield his head in his arms. He heard the screams and yells of his companions, but at that moment, he had no idea what had happened to them –
And then the world resolved itself into pain and semi-darkness, and Harry found himself half-buried in the wreckage of a corridor that had been subjected to a terrible attack. { Ow. What the bloody hell was that? Hang on, get your bearings first... }
Cold air caressing the back of his neck told Harry that the outer wall of this section of the castle had been blown apart, and the hot stickiness on his cheek told him that he was also bleeding copiously. Then he heard a terrible cry that pulled at his insides, a cry that expressed agony of a kind neither flame nor curse could cause. So he stood up, swaying, more frightened than he had been that entire day – more frightened, perhaps, than he had ever been in his entire life...
Harry saw that Hermione was struggling to her feet in the wreckage, and the three redheads were grouped on the ground where the wall had been blasted apart. Harry grabbed Hermione's hand and helped her up, as they started to stagger and stumble over stone and wood towards their comrades.
"No, no, no!" Percy started screaming. "No! Ron! No!"
Percy was desperately shaking his younger brother, and Fred was kneeling beside him, and at first Harry did not understand – but then he saw how Ron's eyes were staring upwards without seeing, a look of surprise etched upon his best mate's face.
"Don't you dare do this, Ronnie!" Fred – usually so strong, witty and even a tiny bit cruel – yelled out, reduced now to a sobbing mess of denial. "If this is a fucked-up joke of some sort, I swear I'm going to-!"
Hermione suddenly erupted into incoherent screams, before grabbing the cold dead head of the ginger on the floor and begging Ron to snap out of it. Harry had never before witnessed such an emotional display on Hermione's part as she wailed, "RON! NOOOO!"
Another loud boom! pierced the air before Harry snapped out of it. "Fred, Percy, Hermione... we've got to go, we can't stay here. We can't do anything for Ron, at least not right now –"
"NO! We're not leaving him!" Percy yelled, and Harry was willing to bet Ron's brother had gone somewhat mental, from the semi-deranged look in Percy's eyes. "Ronnie, oh Merlin, Ronnie, please-!"
"Arania exumai!" Harry shouted, sending the spider-repelling spell at an acromantula – one which was starting to climb in through the newly-created hole in the castle's defenses.
"MOVE, NOW!" Harry subsequently yelled, shoving Hermione out of the way as he dragged Ron's body away by the armpits, away from the rubble and the bodies of the two forgotten Death Eaters they'd been fighting. Fred and Percy started casting spells at the other giant spiders that had followed in the footsteps of the first one, before retreating to the nearby alcove where Harry had moved Ron's corpse. Fred grabbed Hermione by the arm and dragged her along with him, the brightest witch of her generation unable to put up any form of struggle while Percy brought up the rear...
Harry didn't know what to say, what to do as Hermione threw herself on the body and started to viciously curse Ron for leaving her like this, thumping away at the dead man's chest with cries of "How could you?!" and "You bloody idiot!" and the like. Fred and Percy didn't look like they knew what to say or do either, before glancing at one another – and then, with the look of an enraged berserker, the two brothers began seeking a viable target to vent their feelings of anger and helplessness upon.
It only took a few brief seconds for them to locate one...
"ROOKWOOD!" Percy roared in his rage and grief, running off in the direction of the Death Eater in question, Fred following him not a moment later.
"NO! Damn it, Percy, Fred – come back!" Harry shouted after them, but of course, the two Weasleys ignored him completely.
The Chosen One then found himself distracted by Hermione hurling herself into his arms, still crying and babbling semi-incoherently, before the reality of the situation suddenly hit the Boy-Who-Had-Lost-Too-Much like a ton of bricks.
The closest thing he'd ever had to a brother, Ron Weasley, was dead.
Harry had never felt so devoid of hope in his entire life.
A place incomprehensible to the human mind
A time outside normal space-time
The entity known as Death to the inhabitants of the wizarding world frowned, his skeletal features hidden by the robe's hood which he wore.
Existing as he did outside of space and time as the mortals understood it, Death held no silly misunderstandings about the 'future' and the 'past'; to him, existence was just one big, long now. But that sort of world-view didn't mean he was incapable of knowing when things went wrong in the mortal realm.
Focusing his attention on one tiny aspect of the tangled skein that the mortals called 'reality', Death witnessed the passing of a human soul, which was – unscheduled. After all, it was the wizard's jokester sibling who was supposed to have died. And yet...
He hadn't. How bizarre. Quite bizarre.
Already, the ripples from this unexpected act were beginning to affect the skein in unwelcome ways.
That descendant of an amusing wizard whom he had gifted a fragment of his Invisibility Cloak – he died in a nearby forest, as expected. The prophecy concerning those events had been fulfilled, and that was as it should be. But –
The Granger witch. She was not supposed to be there. And she shouldn't have used some Exploding Fluid from an Erumpent, and killed both herself and all her enemies in the form of a suicide bomber attack.
Death disliked suicides. A waste of the Creator's gift...
The ripples continued to spread out, affecting more and more events in the mortal realm.
Death witnessed how, during what mortals would consider twenty-two years into the future, a young wizard named Malfoy lacking both his best friend and the woman who would have become his wife (thanks to the Potter wizard not resurrecting himself, and the unexpected deaths of both the Granger-Weasley witch's parents) was easy prey for his first cousin once removed. First, the daughter of the Lestrange witch seduced him, and then she –
Time travel. Death hated that.
Not to mention how the Malfoy wizard and his incestuous cousin attempted to prevent that so-called Dark Lord from fulfilling his part of that now-annoying prophecy, and creating the adversary who would eventually be killed in that forest.
"No." This simply would not do.
Death put forth His will, and history as the mortal realm knew it – lurched wildly in a completely unexpected direction.
The Hog's Head Inn, Hogsmeade
January 10th, 1980
Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was feeling more than a little surprised. He had just been about to (courteously, he hoped) dismiss Sybill Trelawney's application for the post of Divination teacher, when the woman's normal breathy, dreamy tone had turned harsh and guttural – and she had delivered a true prophecy about the future. One she'd been unable to remember, once the prophecy had been delivered.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."
{ Whoever this unborn child is, he could – but not necessarily will – defeat Tom, somehow, } Albus cogitated to himself rapidly. { Well, so be it. It seems I will have to reconsider my plans, and find out who this new savior of the wizarding world will be – and make sure that come the day, if he loses, I am there to finish off Voldemort in his stead... }
At that moment, Albus would have offered the Seer the teaching position she'd applied for and begun making elaborately complicated plans within plans – but then Trelawney opened her mouth, and started speaking again. And Albus was stunned to hear the woman deliver her second true prophecy of the night –
"The sixth son of the Blood Traitor approaches... born as the third month is born, and marked in both love and death... love for a sibling will be his undoing, and his death will spell doom for the witch who loves him, and the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord... and also the British wizarding world, there shall be complete chaos and destruction in their absence... the sixth son of the Blood Traitor approaches..."
The Death Chamber within the Department of Mysteries, Ministry of Magic, London
March 2nd, 1980 (Early A.M.)
Dumbledore was feeling every moment of his 99 long years of life, his old bones buckling under the weight of the burden of all that he had done – and all he was about to do.
"Are you prepared?" the voice of Saul Croaker, the head Unspeakable quickly brought Albus out of his thoughts.
"Nearly." Albus then gestured towards a sphere of golden light, within which a naked male infant – Ronald Bilius Weasley – was asleep, the newborn having been abducted yesterday mere moments after his birth. A Transfigured homunculus had been substituted in his place, for the grieving parents to bury after being obliviated and led into believing their child had been stillborn. "I still need the last two ingredients for the ritual."
"Of course." Croaker then placed two vials onto the nearby altar, one containing a sample of his blood and the other a sample of his bone marrow. "You can use the Gemino Charm to create as much as you need. I will return later to claim the leftovers. I trust I do not need to warn you not to try to keep any of my blood and bone for any future use?"
"Of course not," Albus replied, feeling somewhat insulted by the other wizard's words. Then he remembered what he had just done to the Weasley family, and his annoyance quickly vanished. After all, Croaker had every right to suspect him.
Just like Arthur and Molly would have the right to try to kill him, if they ever found out what he'd done...
"If I may ask, why have you agreed to help me?" Dumbledore suddenly blurted out, staring at his hooded, faceless companion.
"In the entire history of the Department of Mysteries, Unspeakables have been made, not born. You offer an opportunity to finally correct that; to create a true Unspeakable from birth, one uncontaminated by the wizarding world's cultural imprinting," the Head of the Department replied with perfect equanimity.
"You would raise the boy in complete isolation, then, other than your fellow Unspeakables? Do you not fear creating a monster even worse than the current Dark Lord?" Albus asked in surprise.
"Monsters like Tom Riddle are born, not made," Croaker said dismissively, before he gestured in the direction of the room's door. "Here in the Department, we study love, time, thought, as well as life and death. The boy will be taught the difference between right and wrong, and want for nothing until he comes of age and chooses his own path."
"Just make sure he never goes to Hogwarts for his education," Albus said warningly. "Send young Ronald to Beauxbatons, or Durmstrang, or even Ilvermorny if you must. The prophecy which I shared with you was quite clear on what will happen, if he ever joins with the other two mentioned by Trelawney."
Saul Croaker said nothing; he merely inclined his hooded head, before he turned around and exited out of the Death Chamber. Dismissing his co-conspirator, Albus then turned his attention to the baby floating not far away.
{ For the Greater Good, this must be done, } Albus told himself firmly, still trying to convince himself of that. { The sixth son of Arthur and Molly Weasley needs to be erased from existence completely. It is not enough for young Ronald to be raised by Saul and his colleagues, here at the Ministry; there must be no traces left in him of the one Sybill spoke of in her prophecy. It is a terrible thing I'm about to do, there can be no denying that; but the British wizarding world is already at war, and if there is any hope for it not to be torn asunder thanks to Tom and his followers, then sacrifice – even the sacrifice of an innocent – is unavoidable. As the muggles like to say... needs must, when the devil drives. }
Straightening his spine, Dumbledore then began his ritual. It was a good thing the youngest Weasley infant was trapped in a dreamless sleep, because –
All of Ronald's blood and bone marrow vanished from his body, leaving the baby looking like a mummified corpse for the briefest instant, as Dumbledore used Croaker's vials to replace what had been stolen – creating a new magical child in the place of the old, who was fortunately still trapped in stasis and had no idea what had been done to him.
Not even a Gringotts blood test would be able to reveal Ronald Croaker's true origins, now.
Far away in Crawley, the infant girl named Hermione Granger began to shriek incoherently within her crib, as her worried parents frantically tried to find out what was wrong with her – while in Godric's Hollow, Lily Potter began to scream in agony as her unborn son, Harry James Potter, thrashed around inside his mother's womb.
All thanks to the destiny shared by the members of the Golden Trio being destroyed, before it had ever truly formed.
Albus Dumbledore had adequately understood one prophecy, if not the other one...
But at least things were looking up for the Order of the Phoenix, as a whole.
A/N: Just wanted to say thanks to everyone for their reviews and feedback – and a particular thank you to Guest, for his/her lengthy review with all the various plot ideas: some of them were brilliant, I'll definitely keep them in mind! Anyway, the two 'might have been's in this chapter – one which initially begins near the start of chapter 19 (p. 366) of JKR's 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows', and the other based on chapters 31 and 32 of the same book – nothing from therein belongs to me. As always, I hope you keep reading and reviewing this fanfic – things will get more interesting from here!
