Your Life is Laid Before You – Harry Potter Bad Ends

A.N. – This first chapter is set in the movie-verse, because it's the one that got me thinking about other scenarios to tweak. The rest of the chapters will be book-canon, as I far prefer it. The chapters will not be in any chronological order or connected unless otherwise specified. As one should expect in a story of this subject matter, there will be violence, strong language, and little warning for the impending brutalities. I don't own HP; Jo Rowling and corporations too numerous to list do. I do not profit monetarily from this work in any way. Now, on to the main act.

Moment 1

Bill and Fleur's wedding was, to Ron Weasley, already an exercise in torture.

Adding Death Eaters to the mix didn't change things, much, in his mind.

He'd endured the fawning over the bride, put up with the acerbic comments from his Aunt Muriel, and quietly seethed at Krum and Hermione. So, really, the patronus bearing bad news and the subsequent arrival of hooded hoodlums fit. Ron found himself isolated amongst the fleeing party-goers, looking for an escape. One appeared in the form of Hermione, dragging along Harry. Before he knew it, they were being squeezed in the customary experience of apparition.

They'd barely landed before stunningly bright light overtook them. Ron shook his head, more dazed than usual coming out of an apparition. Light wasn't supposed to be a side-effect, was it? He didn't register Hermione's shrill shriek of warning, nor Harry's valiant (but vain) attempt to shield him. Suddenly, the oncoming glow was drawn dark.

There, in the middle of Tottenham Court Road, two shell-shocked teens watched as their best mate made the acquaintance of a red London double-decker bus. The screech of brakes and the empty thud of human meeting metal were background noise dwarfed by the look of absolute astonishment on Ron's face. He gracefully, bonelessly, flew across the road at the collision and crumpled against a wrought-iron fence. Only when the bent and bruised body stilled did Hermione and Harry find it in themselves to finally move.

The breath escapes Ron's body before he even realizes he misses it. His whole existence is overwhelming pain, a crushing ache encapsulating his torso and head. In light of that, the lack of oxygen seems trivial.

It doesn't stop him, however, from greedily sucking it in after the pain has abated and he's allowed to regain himself. From what, he isn't certain; before the massive trauma is a blank. Given the immense hurt associated with that blank, Ron's certain he doesn't want to know.

Intrinsically, he has been altered. He feels it in his center. It goes beyond the mangling of flesh and the lackluster heartbeat. What Ron Weasley once was, he no longer is. In the instant of impact, he was forced to undergo a metamorphosis. And still, into what, he does not know.

Dimly, Ron's aware that he's not in this alone, but the inky edges of his vision and the low-level buzz in his ears preclude further investigation. There are what he assumes are tears soaking his stomach, and wails of agony are felt more than heard. Only now does he remember the friends who were with him, and attempts to pivot his head to look at them.

Instead, Ron in faced with the sight of his badly broken body, shoved under the wheels of a massive Muggle machine. His blood is hard to detect against the paint, but it lays puddling on the pavement and soaking through his clothes and splattered over Hermione's finery and Harry's shirt. Still, though, Ron is uncertain as to what caused this. He remembers the reception, the forced evacuation, then…bam, nothing.

Ron takes another look at his friends, noticing the unending tracks of tears on Hermione's cheeks and the wand gripped limply by Harry's side. Pieces slowly start to fall into place. They'd be helping them, if they could. They'd be trying to cover up the signs of magic, if they could. He'd be right in between them, if he could.

But he couldn't.

Because he was dead.

With that final realization, the floating entity that was Ronald Bilius Weasley passed from his current plane of existence to the next. Hermione lifted her head as she thought she saw an ethereal flicker by the crash site. Ever so briefly, a familiar outline emerged, gently nodding its head at her, before dispersing into the night. Hermione clutched her hands around her midsection and sobbed with the blame she felt, while Harry looked torn between consoling her and wondering why his people-saving thing hadn't done a damn bit of good. And Ron, at last, was at rest. But the Golden Trio was forever tarnished.