Author's Notes: Merry Christmas! Okay, okay…I know it's July…but this is the first of several chapters that take place over the Christmas holiday. The timing of the chapter couldn't be helped.

The Christmas holidays are usually the halfway point in the HARRY POTTER books, and the same is true for this story. From here, things will start to heat up, eventually leading to what I call "the Big Reveal" when many questions will start to get answered.

Thanks: Thanks to everyone who reviews; they keep me motivated. Special thanks, as always, to my beta CutewithAcapital-Q…she REALLY keeps me motivated…often with a cattleprod!

Disclaimer: JKR's stuff, not mine.

MIRROR, MIRROR

Chapter 25 – "Holiday Reflections"

Sixteen days had passed since Hermione had fled the hospital wing after she and Ron had almost kissed…and every one of those days had been like a nightmare for Ron.

It started for Ron when Madam Pomfrey had returned to the hospital wing with two sets of school robes only to find that one of her patients had run off. The nurse was angry with Hermione for leaving without permission, until Ron confessed to being the cause. Once she knew that he had upset Hermione and that's why she fled, Ron found himself on the receiving end of a stern lecture from the matron.

Once he'd been released from the infirmary, the rumors about the supposedly romantic broom-ride through the Forbidden Forest caught up with him, and he had to put up with a lot of teasing – some of it good-natured, some of it not – from almost everyone he encountered.

Worst of all was Malfoy.

"I don't know what's worse," Malfoy said loudly as Ron entered the Great Hall the morning after he was released, "Granger cheating on her famous Quidditch player boyfriend with a poverty-stricken blood-traitor, or the Weasel defiling a pure bloodline by getting off with a Mudblood."

If it hadn't been for Neville who'd entered the Great Hall with him, Ron would have been in yet more trouble as he fully intended to hex Malfoy to within an inch of his life. Instead, Neville grabbed Ron and frog-marched him to the Gryffindor table where they ate breakfast with Ginny.

As bad as the mocking he took from most of the students about the broom-ride was, it was nothing in comparison to what he had to deal with from Angelina Johnson when she heard the news that his broom had been destroyed.

It started with a stern talking-to about the importance of being a team player and how breaking one's broom a month into the Quidditch season was a poor example of team play. She then insisted that he practice every day with her, one-on-one, until he adjusted to the less-than-stellar school broom he'd be forced to use. The school brooms tended to be rather dodgy, so Ron wasn't exactly thrilled with his predicament. Luckily though, Gryffindor didn't play anyone until after the Christmas holiday.

And speaking of the Christmas holiday, Ron received an overwhelmingly bad piece of news concerning the Yule break from Professor McGonagall a week before the break.

"Mr. Weasley, I received an owl from Professor Dumbledore this morning," the Transfiguration teacher said after making him stay after class, "He is currently traveling, and he will not be returning before the end of term."

"Is he looking for information on those items from the Chamber of Secrets?" he asked, hoping the headmaster would find out what those things were soon.

"I believe so, yes," McGonagall nodded, "But the reason I called you up here is because Dumbledore is requesting that you go home for the Christmas break."

"What?" Ron exclaimed, unable to believe his ears.

"Mr. Weasley, please refrain from yelling," the teacher said with a stern frown on her face.

"Sorry, Professor," he replied, thoroughly chastened.

"According to Dumbledore's note," she continued, "Fred, George, and Ginny Weasley will all be going home for the holiday, and in order to keep up appearances, you are to go with them."

"But Dumbledore said he doesn't want me or Hermione leaving school grounds because we're in danger," Ron said, trying to make McGonagall understand why he couldn't go home, "If I go home, I'm just going to put all the Weasleys in danger!"

"Dumbledore says that there will be members of the Order guarding you and Miss Granger and your families at all times," the deputy headmistress explained, "You'll be perfectly safe."

"Yeah," Ron snorted, "Unless he lets 'Dung Fletcher guard one of us."

"Mundungus Fletcher will not be allowed to take part in the guard duty, Mr. Weasley," she replied, "You have my word on that."

And just like that, Ron was being forced to spend the Christmas holiday with the Weasleys. It was going to be Hell and he knew it. Ginny and the twins had come to accept him, but it had taken time…time the rest of the Weasleys would not have before he was thrown into their midst. Christmas break, which he had looked forward to, once upon a time, was shaping up to be the worst two weeks of his life.

And as bad as all that was, it wasn't even the worst part of his sixteen day nightmare. No, that title was held by Hermione. Ever since they had almost kissed, and she had clearly rejected him for Viktor-sodding-Krum, she had been avoiding him.

She would eat at the far end of the Gryffindor table, she would sit as far away from him in class as possible, she would study and do her homework up in her dorm, and she had even arranged for one of the Ravenclaw prefects to patrol with him each week just so she wouldn't be alone with him.

Ron Weasley was well-known for being thick, but he got the message loud-and-clear: Hermione Granger wanted nothing to do with him anymore. And as if she didn't think he'd gotten the message clear enough, Viktor Krum paid her a visit at the castle.

He didn't actually see Krum with his own two eyes, since he had been up in the common room trying his best to finish a Potions essay that was due the following day. However, a group of excited first and second years told the tale of Viktor Krum and Hermione Granger taking a walk around the castle grounds.

He felt like a complete arse. Not only did he alienate Hermione and ruin their friendship, but he drove her full-steam into the arms of Krum.

He heaved a great mournful sigh as he watched the scenery whiz past the window of the Hogwarts Express. Ginny and Neville had tried to cheer him up, but he was too far gone. Everything was weighing down on him and there was nothing and nobody who could get him out of his funk.

When the Hogwarts Express pulled into King's Cross Station, Ron made a point of dragging his feet and moving as slowly as possible, so he'd be the last one off the train. Meeting the rest of the Weasleys was something he was not looking forward to.

He didn't want to be a source of pain for his…for the other Ron's…family, but he knew that seeing him was going to be like pouring salt into an open wound. Ginny and the twins had come to accept him, but it hadn't happened right away, and he'd been able to give them the space they needed…but with everyone staying at the Burrow, practically living on top of each other, space would be the last thing available to anyone.

Heaving a great sigh, Ron finally made his way off the train. Ginny had kept Pig with her, so all he had to deal with was his trunk. Shoving it haphazardly onto a baggage trolley, Ron took a look around for his "family".

The magical platform had all-but emptied out, and Ron was a bit surprised when he didn't see a single head of Weasley red hair. They had most certainly come to pick up Fred, George, and Ginny…did they decide to leave him behind?

"Wouldn't blame 'em if they did," he thought as he approached the portal leading away from Platform 9¾ into the Muggle portion of the train station.

With a heavy heart, Ron stepped through the portal, pushing his trolley before him into the busy train station full of Muggles. Not knowing what else to do in the event that he had been left behind, Ron pushed his trolley towards the station's exit, figuring that if worse-came-to-worst he could always hop a ride on the Knight Bus and take it…somewhere.

The fact that the exterior of the train station was well-lit did little to lighten Ron's mood…which was as dark as the December night surrounding him. Snow was falling heavily and he huddled the old Muggle-style coat he wore tighter around himself, though he wasn't entirely sure the chill he felt was from the fluffy white flakes falling all around him.

"Hi."

The soft, unsure voice behind him yanked Ron out of his reverie, startling him. Turning around, Ron's eyes widened at the sight before him. Hermione stood there, bundled up against the cold and snow in posh Muggle clothing, next to a luggage trolley piled high with her belongings. She was looking shyly at the ground, her gloved fingers fidgeting nervously.

"Oh…err…hi," Ron replied, his voice cracking slightly. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets to keep from fidgeting like she was. He hadn't expected to run into Hermione, and considering how she'd been avoiding him, he certainly didn't expect her to strike up a conversation with him. "Didn't see you there."

"Yes, well…you looked lost in thought…I'm sorry if I'm bothering you," she quickly looked away; her cheeks were rosy, but he wasn't entirely sure it was from the cold.

"No, you're not…it's okay," he said, kicking at the sidewalk beneath his feet, "I was just trying to figure out where the…err…where my family…had gotten to." It felt strange, talking to her like this after her rejection and avoidance of him. He honestly didn't know where he stood with her anymore.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, suddenly looking surprised and a bit worried, "I saw your family leave about ten minutes ago. Your mother looked awfully distraught."

Ron sighed. Of course she looked distraught…she was going to have to watch the spitting image of her dead son walking around like the other Ron Weasley…her Ron Weasley…had never even existed.

"I reckon I got left behind," he said glumly.

"How will you get home?" she asked, concerned, "Ottery St. Catchpole is too far to walk and – oh! What about what Dumbledore said about us being in danger? Potter could show up here and try to finish what he started!"

Ron shrugged. That did seem to be a huge flaw in Dumbledore's plan. Yes, going home to spend Christmas with the other Weasleys would keep up appearances, but if the headmaster really thought they were in danger from Harry, letting them go home for Christmas…or forcing, in his case…seemed to be a stupid move. Of course, Ron was told that members of the Order would be guarding him and Hermione, but he didn't see anyone from the Order. And if he was left behind, he could very easily be a sitting duck; unless, of course, Dumbledore was using them as bait to try and get Harry to show himself. Ron's stomach sank and his face paled at the possibility. Did Dumbledore really have it in him to use Ron as a lure to draw Harry out into the open?

"Ron, listen…" Hermione's voice brought him out of his thoughts once again. She was changing the subject, and looked very uncomfortable about it; she wouldn't make eye contact with him as she spoke, "About what happened in the hospital wing…"

Ron held his breath, not certain he wanted to hear this. She had rejected him in favor of Viktor Krum, plain and simple. She didn't need to rub it in by talking about it.

"Ron, I –"

"Hermione!"

Hermione and Ron turned simultaneously to see her parents rushing towards them across the car park. Red-nosed and rosy-cheeked, the Grangers hurried over and each gave their daughter a massive hug.

"So sorry we're late, poppet," her father said, pulling back to take a good long look at her, "Your mother wanted to finish up some last minute shopping for our ski holiday and it took loner than she thought it would."

"And who was it, John Granger, who caused us to have such a late start on our shopping because he couldn't pull himself away from the telly?" Mrs. Granger asked in a mock-scolding tone. She exchanged a teasing scowl with her husband before planting a kiss on Hermione's cheek, "I am sorry, though, dear. Look at you…you must be frozen!"

"Mum, Dad, it's fine, really," Hermione said, rolling her eyes as her parents let go of her, "I haven't been waiting long, and –"

"And I see you've got company," her mother said excitedly as she spotted Ron standing a few feet away, awkwardly trying not to intrude on the family reunion, "Introduce us to your friend, Hermione."

"Err…right," Hermione said, blushing, "This is Ronald…err…Ron…Weasley…Ron Weasley; he's a boy."

"Well-spotted, poppet," Mr. Granger joked, patting her on the back.

"We can see that he's a boy, Hermione," Mrs. Granger said softly, as if talking to a small child.

"In my class, I mean," Hermione nervously explained, "His name is Ron Weasley and he's a boy in my class."

Ron bit back a smirk at the way Hermione was so flustered. He didn't get to see her like this very often, and it amused him greatly.

"It's very nice to meet you, Ron," Mrs. Granger said, reaching out and shaking his hand, "Hermione has never introduced us to any of her friends before."

"None of her age-appropriate friends, anyway," Mr. Granger added as he, too, reached out and shook Ron's hand, "She's introduced us to plenty of Bulgarian men, though."

Ron arched an eyebrow in curiosity. Hermione's father definitely did not sound as though he was a big fan of his daughter's boyfriend. If that was the case, Ron could definitely see himself becoming fast friends with John Granger.

"Daddy, it was one Bulgarian, and Viktor is a nice boy," Hermione replied. She looked nervously at Ron and he scowled, not needing to be reminded that she had rejected him for Krum, "You just never gave him a chance."

"Hermione," Mr. Granger argued, "When a man who's nearly twenty wants to take your fifteen-year-old daughter to another country for the summer, he's not a 'nice boy'…he's a predatory paedophile! He's lucky I didn't have him arrested last summer when he –"

"This is not the time or place for this discussion," Mrs. Granger interrupted, giving Ron an uncomfortable smile the he awkwardly returned.

"It doesn't matter anyway," Hermione sighed; she suddenly looked Ron straight in the eye, "I broke up with Viktor."

"You did?" Ron and Mr. Granger spoke at the same time, both of them thoroughly pleased with this turn of events. Ron blushed when Hermione arched her eyebrow at him for his excitement at Viktor's misfortune.

"Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry," Mrs. Granger said, pulling her daughter into a sympathetic hug, "I know how hard it can be to break up with your first boyfriend. I was a little older than you are when it happened to me…"

"Simon Skinner," Mr. Granger snorted derisively, "Didn't he kill someone?"

"That is an unfounded rumor, John, and you know it," Mrs. Granger replied curtly, "He runs a very successful supermarket in a village up north."

"You're well-rid of him, is what I'm saying, Lizzie," Mr. Granger replied, rolling his eyes in a manner very reminiscent of his daughter, "And Hermione is well-rid of Viktor."

"John!" Elizabeth Granger looked fairly exasperated with her husband.

"What? I'm just saying that if Hermione must date a boy – and I'm totally fine if you never want to date again, poppet – not only should he be a boy, but he should live in the same ruddy country," John Granger blustered on, "Ron! How old are you?"

"What…?" Ron was caught completely by surprise when the ranting Mr. Granger addressed him, "Err…fifteen…"

"And where do you live?"

"Err…Devon…"

"There!" Mr. Granger exclaimed as if his point had just been made for him, "Fifteen, living in Devon. There are age-appropriate boys out there."

"Daddy, please stop!" Hermione pleaded, "You're embarrassing me, and I think you're probably scaring Ron! Besides, Viktor is out of the picture now, so you can relax."

"We should really be going," Mrs. Granger said, once her husband and daughter had stopped their verbal jousting, "The snow's really coming down and the roads are getting worse by the minute. Will your family be arriving soon, Ron?"

"Oh no!" Hermione exclaimed, seeming to have suddenly remembered her earlier conversation with Ron, "Mum, Dad, Ron's parents have left him stranded. We need to give him a lift."

"All the way to Devon?" John Granger exclaimed incredulously, "Hermione, I'd like to help your friend, but Devon's more than two hundred kilometers from here!"

"But, Dad…!"

"John, we can't just leave the boy stranded…"

"No worries," Ron said, not wanting to inconvenience Hermione's family, "I'll just catch the Knight Bus."

"You'll do no such thing!"

Ron and the Grangers turned at the sound of the new voice joining their conversation, just in time to see Arthur Weasley approaching from out of the darkness. Ron's stomach clenched at the sight of a face that should familiar, but instead looked completely alien to him.

Ron's father was in his early forties, but the man who appeared before him looked significantly older. His blue eyes looked tired and no longer held the spark of joy Ron had seen in them so many times before. There were more lines on the man's face than Ron remembered as less hair atop the man's balding head. This was the look of a man who'd had to bury his own child.

"There will be no more talk of taking the Knight Bus…son," Arthur said, hesitating before saying the last word, "Molly's upset enough with all that's going on; she doesn't need you adding to it by wandering off on the Knight Bus."

"Right…well…we'll just be going, then," Mr. Granger said, sounding a bit uncomfortable with the tension that filled the air upon Mr. Weasley's arrival, "You ladies wait here while I pull the car around. Nice meeting you, Ron."

Ron was a bit too stunned to speak, so he nodded numbly as Mr. Granger left. Arthur seemed angry with him, and while Ron understood why his 'father' was upset with him, it didn't make it any easier to take. Why couldn't Dumbledore have just let him stay at the castle for the holiday?

"Say goodbye to your friend and let's be off," Arthur said curtly, moving away from Ron and the Granger women as if to give them a modicum of privacy.

"Err…bye, Hermione," Ron said, waving lamely. He felt incredibly awkward talking to her with their parents around.

"Have a happy Christmas, Ron," Hermione replied, waving back. From the look on her face, she felt awkward as well; oddly enough, it made him feel better to know it wasn't just him.

Mr. Granger pulled up in a sleek, silver saloon and as he got out to load Hermione's trunk and cat carrier into the car, strains of Muggle Christmas music issued forth from within. The Grangers waved goodbye to Ron and Arthur and drove off into the night. Once the Grangers were out of sight, Ron grabbed his trunk and began following Arthur away from the train station.

"How're we getting home, Da-…err…Mr. Weasley?" Ron asked after walking in silence for five minutes with on the soft shush of falling snow and the grating scrape of his trunk dragging along the pavement to break up the quiet.

Arthur stiffened visibly at the sound of Ron's voice. He answered without looking back, his voice devoid of emotion.

"We're walking."

"Walking?" Ron exclaimed, stopping in his tracks and dropping his trunk, "All the way back to the Burrow? That's mental!"

"We're not going to the Burrow," Mr. Weasley replied in the same emotionless tone without breaking his stride, "We'll be staying somewhere secret, safe and secure."

"Oh," Ron had a pretty good idea where they were headed now, but he didn't say anything more. He'd gotten the distinct impression that his 'father' didn't feel much like talking with him.

Twenty minutes later, they were standing outside Number Twelve Grimauld Place. Ron was freezing and he was exhausted; all he wanted to do was crawl into a nice warm bed and sleep for a week. Unfortunately, there seemed to be a problem, as Arthur just stood outside, not making any effort to go inside.

"What're we waiting for?" Ron asked grumpily, not wanting to stand around in the snow all night.

Arthur sighed and fished around in his coat pocket before pulling out a slip of paper, "The house in unplottable; in order to see it, you must read what's on this slip of paper, memorize it, then destroy it."

"I can already see the house," Ron replied impatiently, "Can we just go in already? I'm nearly frozen through!"

"What do you mean you can see the house?" Arthur asked hotly, pulling out his wand, "How do you know about this place? Who told you?"

"We spent the whole summer here," Ron said quickly, unsure if he was in danger of being hexed or not, "We moved in and started getting the place set up as headquarters after You-Know-Who came back."

Arthur eyed him warily. Ron could see the conflict going on inside the man through his eyes. He wanted to believe Ron, but he also wanted to keep the remainder of his family safe.

Finally, Arthur touched his wand to the piece of paper and it burst into flames; a second later the scrap of paper was a small pile of ash that Arthur vanished a moment later.

"Let's get in out of the cold, then," Arthur said, moving towards the steps of Number Twelve. He tapped his wand on the shabby-looking black door, just below the tarnished silver knocker in the shape of a twisted serpent. A series of loud metallic clicks and the clatter of a chain could be heard from within. The door creaked open and Arthur pushed his way inside.

"Come on, if you're coming; and be mindful of –"

"Mrs. Black's portrait," Ron said, interrupting him, "I know, I know."

Ron followed Arthur inside Number Twelve, dragging his trunk along behind him. The house looked a lot like Ron expected it to look, though it was definitely a lot cleaner than the one he'd spent the summer in.

"Your room's on the second floor," Arthur said, waving towards the dark staircase, "Second door on the right."

"Right…thanks," Ron said, dragging his trunk toward the stairs. As he passed Arthur, Ron turned to face the elder Weasley, "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I know having me around isn't easy…it must hurt something awful, and I'm sorry. I know Dumbledore is forcing you and your family to put me up for the holiday…but I'll do what I can to keep out of your hair as much as possible."

With that said, Ron made his way up the stairs, following the familiar path he'd walked for the majority of the summer, up to the second landing and stopping at the first door on the right. He wondered if it was in any better condition than it was when he shared it with Harry.

"Only one way to find out," he thought, turning the snakehead-shaped doorknob and opening the door.

He entered the high-ceilinged room and his eyes widened and in surprise. Instead of the two single beds he and Harry occupied over the summer, the room was dominated by one large bed with tattered linens. That wasn't the surprising bit, however. The occupants of the bed are what surprised him.

Lying atop the bed, curled up closely together was a large wolf and an equally large black dog. The instant the door opened, both animals looked up, their attention drawn to the intruder. The wolf seemed to quickly lose interest and lay back down, but the dog was another story.

The moment Ron opened the door and entered the room, the black dog leapt off the bed and straight at him, snarling and growling and barking and snapping its teeth menacingly as it pounced.

Ron tried to retreat from the room quickly as a sudden flashback from Third Year hit him and he wanted to avoid bite wounds and broken bones. Unfortunately, his trunk was on the floor behind him and as Ron hurried from the room, he fell over it, landing on his back and hitting his head so hard it sent his ears ringing.

The black dog was on top of him immediately, spraying him with saliva as it barked loudly in his face. Ron brought his arms up across his face defensively, but they were roughly slapped away and he found himself being unceremoniously yanked to his feet, his head spinning.

"What the Hell do you think you're doing, boy?" a fully-human Sirius Black demanded angrily, shoving Ron hard against the hallway wall, "Do you realize how easily you could have been ripped to pieces right now? There's a full moon tonight, you fool!"

Ron's face paled and his head throbbed. He'd never seen Sirius look so angry…so crazed…at least not since he escaped from Azkaban and came looking for Scabbers.

"Muh-my room…" Ron managed to stammer, swallowing nervously.

There was the sudden crack of Apparition, and Arthur Weasley appeared on the landing, wand drawn and looking frantic.

"What is all the commotion up here?" Arthur demanded hotly, looking from Sirius to Ron and back again, "You've made so much noise, you've gotten Mrs. Black screaming her head off again!"

"Your 'son'," Sirius said, practically spitting the word, "Decided to let himself into Remus' room unannounced! If he hadn't taken his potion tonight, Remus would have torn this idiot to shreds!"

"Why did you do that?" Arthur asked, turning his attention back to Ron, "Don't you know how dangerous that can be?"

"I…I thought it was my room," Ron said quickly, out-of-sorts since Sirius still had him pinned up against the wall, "That's the room I slept in over the summer. I went in out of habit."

"Well, it's Remus' room here," Sirius growled, letting Ron go and making his way back into the werewolf's bedroom, "You'd best remember it if you value your neck."

Ron sighed shakily as Sirius slammed the door to Lupin's room. He felt like he was going to be sick as the adrenaline started to wear off.

"I told you, 'second door on the right'," Arthur said, moving over and opening the door to the room Ron had been given and raising his wand to light the lamps, "You're not on your world anymore; you might want to curb your habits before they get you killed…Ron."

Ron looked up, surprised to hear Arthur say his name. He no longer sounded angry or emotionless as he had earlier; now he just sounded sad. Before Ron could say anything, though, Arthur had disappeared with a pop.

Ron entered his room, dragging his trunk to the foot of his bed before sitting heavily on the old moth-eaten mattress. He was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. He didn't want to be here, and it was obvious that no one wanted him here, either.

"Why the Hell couldn't Dumbledore just leave me at Hogwarts?" he asked the empty room.

He kicked off his trainers and crawled into bed, trying to ignore the grumbling in his stomach from not having eaten in several hours.

"Maybe I can sleep for the entire two weeks that I'm here," he joked cynically.

He closed his eyes and despite his troubled mind and empty stomach, exhaustion overtook him and Ron slipped into a troubled sleep.

Ron wasn't sure how long he'd been sleeping when he was set upon by a nightmare in which he had to watch Harry cast the Killing Curse at this world's Ron Weasley and then sit by and mutely observe the painful and aggrieved reaction of each member of the Weasley family as they came upon the lifeless body. If that wasn't nightmarish enough, the Weasleys then turned on him and laid the blame for their ongoing agony and continued sorrow at his feet.

He awoke in a cold sweat, shaking like a leaf. It took him a minute to realize where he was and then a wave of despair washed over him; this wasn't a nightmare…this was his reality. He really was stuck here.

An intense hunger pang gripped his stomach and Ron knew there was no way he would be able to sleep or do much of anything else until he got something to eat. Going downstairs was the last thing he wanted to do, for fear of running into the Weasleys…but that was the only way he was going to get any food in his belly.

Getting up out of bed, Ron slowly made his way to the door and, opening it a crack, checked the hall to make sure he wasn't about to run afoul of anybody. In his stockinged feet, Ron made his way down the dark staircase and only stopped when he heard voices coming from the dining room at the end of the ground floor corridor.

"Don't you think you're being a tad bit ridiculous, Molly?" Arthur Weasley asked his wife in that tone he reserved only for those occasions when he and his wife were quarreling over something, "You can't starve him; the boy needs to eat!"

"Then he can take his meals in his room and that horrible house elf can bring them to him," Molly replied, her voice shrill, "I don't want him here, Arthur! It's bad enough we had to hide the funeral, but now we have to pretend that this imposter is our little Ronnie? No…I refuse. He can stay in his room until it's time to go back to Hogwarts."

"Molly, my love, be reasonable," Arthur pleaded, and Ron was surprised to hear that Mr. Weasley seemed to be on his side…at least about this.

"No!" Molly shouted, sounding more frantic and out-of-sorts than Ron ever thought she could sound, "I know it's selfish and it makes me a horrible person, but I want him gone and I want our children to stop having to pretend their brother didn't die! I want to mourn my baby boy, Arthur! He was a good boy and he deserves to have his family mourn him properly…not in secret while that…that…doppelganger walks around wearing his clothes and living his life!"

"Molly, Dumbledore says –"

"Hang Dumbledore!" Molly screamed, "Hang him and that ridiculous prophecy…and hang this bloody 'mission' too!"

Ron couldn't believe he'd heard her curse. But, then, he was hearing a lot tonight that he never thought he'd hear Molly Weasley say.

"Dumbledore is the greatest living wizard known to man," Arthur said sternly, "And as painful as it may be, Molly, we must defer to his wisdom in this matter."

"If Dumbledore is so wise," Molly snapped, "Then why on Earth did he rely on that criminal, Mundungus Fletcher, to protect our boy instead of someone who could be counted on to stay at his post and keep our boy alive?"

"Molly, please…"

"That boy is a constant reminder of how Dumbledore failed us, Arthur," Molly continued, unimpeded by her husband's pleas, "He's a constant reminder of how our family has been shattered…of the gaping hole in all our lives. How can we ever hope to heal with his very presence throwing our pain back in our faces?"

"Molly…"

"I'll have nothing to do with him," she said, as if that was the final word on the matter, "And I'll not force our children to be around him either. It's bad enough that Fred, George, and poor Ginny have to be around him at school."

"Molly…Ginny and the twins have warmed to him…you heard them at dinner; perhaps we should –"

"No! Absolutely not!" Molly yelled, "I won't hear of it!"

Ron had heard enough. As bad as he felt before coming downstairs, hearing the Weasley parents arguing over him made him feel a thousand times worse. His stomach rumbled again and instead of returning to his room as he had intended, he quietly slipped past the dining room and down the basement stairs leading to the kitchen.

Arthur's voice was the last thing he heard before making his way into the dark and gloomy kitchen in search of food.

"I know you're hurting, Molly; we all are. Not a second goes by that I don't miss our Ronnie…and not a day goes by that I don't curse Dumbledore for not being more careful. I know it hurts to see this other Ron…but Molly, if the situation were reversed, and it was our Ron all alone on a strange world facing the most difficult task of his life…how would you want that other world's Molly and Arthur to treat him? Would you want them to shun our boy and make him feel even more alone, or would you want those Weasleys to take him in and treat him like one of their own?"

Author's End Notes: There you have it…the first Christmas chapter. Not exactly a good night for Ron. Let me know what you think, and check back in about two weeks for the next update.