1. So. It's been a while.

2. Thanks a lot to reallybeth, my reliable beta. Without her, the grammar of this would be way off.

3. As always, any error here is mine and not from my reviewer. If you spot anything or have a doubt about the grammar used or plot just PM me, I'm always swift to answer. Open to concrit and whatever.

4. A bit on the long end for a second chap, but hope you don't mind

5. I have a tumblr (jonriptide),

6. Enjoy

In more than one way, the days that followed Harry's twelfth birthday proved to be strikingly familiar to Ron. Not having flown the car all the way to Surrey meant that there were no arguments or extra chores to be had, but apart from that, everything else was just as he remembered.

Summers at the Burrow had always been brilliant, and this one didn't feel any different to the ones from Ron's childhood. The warmth of the sun was as playful as ever, and the grass was so fresh that it was almost a crime to stay indoors. With the sole exception of Percy, Ron's family spent most of those afternoons in the countryside, if only to skip along the orchard or lunch under the shade of a bulky tree.

Inside the Burrow, everything was the same as well. Meals were merry, but a clattering racket nonetheless. And packed with kids as the house was, games and laughter could erupt at any given time, as sudden and noisy as the explosions coming out of the twins' bedroom.

Harry behaved quite similarly to the first time Ron showed him around, and the boy took to the Weasleys in no time. It had been no surprise to see him fascinated with all of the Burrow's oddities. Still, after all that happened the previous year, it felt odd to not be smacked in the face with some unforeseen rubbish every now and then. At times, Ron would almost swear that he hadn't really travelled back in time, but that he was instead living through one of his old childhood memories.

If only that were the case.

Beneath all the smiles and games, things weren't really the same. Not quite. Ron's letters to Hermione always asked if she had seen anything strange, and the Weasleys' outings around the Burrow were always restricted to limits of the house's enchantments. The reason for all those precautions wasn't particularly soothing. Not in the bloody least.

Purple flames and stone chessmen had visited his dreams sparingly over the summer. They hadn't been too much of a bother at the beginning, but that had changed after picking Harry up from the Dursleys. That blasted trip had muddled things over, leaving Ron wary of his own shadow. His last encounter with the American had been enough of a disaster as it was. Seeing that bastard at Privet Drive — or thinking that he'd seen him — had been like being punched in the gut by a troll.

Ron didn't know what to think anymore. The American had looked too bloody real back at Little Whinging. On the other hand, it made no ruddy sense for him to expose himself for nothing. He wasn't stupid. The prick knew there was nothing he could get from Harry that he didn't know already. What was the point of showing up at Privet Drive, then? Finding out what kind of telly Vernon Dursley liked?

Yeah right, if he's interested in Muggles, I'll fight a dragon.

Whether it had been real or not, the situation had rattled Ron. He couldn't forget the threats the American had made against his family, nor his stupid confident grin. Ron kept watching over his shoulder, and even the twins joking about crossing the Burrow's boundaries would tick him off these days.

Ron knew he was acting like a ruddy tosser. He had plenty of experience fighting wicked wizards, and fussing over rubbish like that did him no good. If Marcus Redfern could see him now, he would bark about how he should get a hold of himself. The older Harry would be in line too, ready to smack Ron on the head for acting like a blithering numpty. Ron didn't even want to think what Hermione would say.

Hermione.

It had been almost a whole year since Ron had seen Hermione. His Hermione. The younger version of her was still out there, and he wrote to her as often as ol' Errol could handle. Still, Ron had the older Hermione even more present in his thoughts, seeing a memory of her on every corner of the Burrow.

Ron ached for his future wife as one could ache for breathing air. He knew it would take some time before finding his way back to her — especially given how things had gone with that sniffy arse, Saul Croaker — but that didn't mean he'd stopped aching, or that he would stop trying to get back to her.

Not like I can go back without first fixing all the bloody mess I've caused.

The American was his fault. No one else's. The younger versions of Harry and Hermione shouldn't have to deal with him on top of everything else. Ron had been the one to let the American follow him into the past. He'd even slacked off and forgot all about him until it was almost too late. If anything bad happened in this timeline — anything at all that didn't happen last time — there would be no one to blame but Ron.

Only that something had already happened.

The memory of the young Hermione lying unconscious in that empty classroom haunted him. It made him wonder what would have happened if he'd taken longer to arrive. It made him realise what a lousy time-travelling hero he was.

If that was it — if he just wasn't cut for the task — Ron could accept it. Truly. Over the years, he'd come to terms with his own worth, but all the same, he understood he wasn't Harry. Ron only wished that the universe — or whatever else had put him in this rotten position — would find a more suitable champion before he brought about something he couldn't take back.

Nothing scared him as much as that. Not being good enough. Making the wrong choice. Hurting a loved one due to his unfittingness.

On one of those days, while musing over his fears and what could go wrong, Ron was hit by a very specific memory of his brother Percy. It was from the day Ron had asked him if he was afraid of proposing to Audrey.

"Terrified," Percy had admitted then. "Audrey is so witty and kind, while I'm… not," he'd said, pausing to let out a wistful sigh. "So yes, the thought that I'm not worthy of her and may have read the signs wrong has crossed my mind. That perhaps she has envisioned a different future altogether."

A heavy silence had hung between the two brothers. At least until Ron spoke next, hiding his own doubts behind a good-natured quip . "Bugger. I'm pants at motivating people."

Percy had let out an honest chuckle. "Don't worry. You haven't deterred me."

"I haven't?"

"Not even remotely," Percy had assured. "A rejection would be painful, I'll admit. And I won't say I'm not afraid of hearing her answer. But fear of knowledge is probably the most irrational fear of all. And, ultimately, fear goes away, but regret… that one lasts forever."

Ron had seen Percy fight Death Eaters fiercely, and still, he'd never been as impressed by his brother's nerve as he'd been then — a good couple of years before Ron had dared to pop the same question to Hermione. The words had proven more than Percy's courage, however. Ron had known then, as he did now, that the proposal hadn't been the only thing on Percy's mind when he'd talked about regrets.

War brought regrets to us all.

That week, Ron thought of the older Percy almost as much as he did about his own regrets. Even when he couldn't talk about the future, Ron wished he could spare his brother those old regrets of his. It wasn't as important as keeping everyone safe from the American, but at least with Percy, he could do something besides waiting in the wings as a loafer.

It was so that a week after Harry's birthday, Ron ventured to knock on Percy's door.

"Who is it? I'm in the middle of something," the younger Percy let out from the other side of the door, rather bluntly.

"Err... It's me. Can I come in?"

If there was something Ron had always respected whilst growing up, it was the boundaries of everybody else's room. It wasn't because of an abundance of consideration to his family's privacy, but rather because it had always been the way of things. While the twins would barge into his room unannounced whenever they felt like it, he'd never dared to reciprocate. The prospect of being hit by whatever was causing the latest explosion in their room wasn't all that enticing. Ron hadn't seen Ginny's room either. She was a girl, which had made her door a foreign threshold for most of Ron's youth. On the other hand, Percy's room had often been locked, and Ron had never believed anything fun was inside to begin with.

This time, Percy's door lock clicked, and Ron pushed it open.

He entered with caution, bemused about the experience. It wasn't that he hadn't seen Percy's bedroom before, but Ron couldn't remember a time when he visited as the sole guest rather than stealing curious glances from the outside. The room was mostly what Ron had expected it to be. There was a modest bookcase lined with second-hand books, all meticulously arranged by title and author. The bed was tidy, with perfectly tucked sheets and pillows. And the elderly, oak desk across the desk held a multitude of books.

Other than that, there were a couple things that prickled Ron's curiosity. For one, there was a plant by the windowsill, next to a blue sprinkler and a watering schedule. Mildly interesting, as he never took his brother for a plant person. What really caught Ron's attention though was the chest of drawers, on top of which he saw moving pictures and what he supposed were colourful mementos from friends. The moving pictures only showed a couple of friends in them, and neither were Audrey or Penelope Clearwater. Regardless, the sole presence of the pictures was curious. Growing up, Ron had never imagined the young Percy having much of life outside books and rules. It was stupid misjudgement, especially considering how he'd been proven wrong with Hermione. But being fair, it was far from the only thickheaded thing his younger self had believed in.

"Can I do something for you?" Percy asked.

Ron hesitated. "I… Well, just wanted to see how you were doing?"

One of Percy's eyebrows arched, and he straightened in his place. "I'm fine. Busy, as you can see," he remarked, moving to make sure that Ron could see all the books on his desk.

"In case you haven't noticed, school hasn't started yet."

A huff escaped Percy, "That doesn't mean one should slack. Quite the contrary. Revising ahead for the upcoming year is a habit more people should foster, regardless of grades," he lectured. "Take me for instance, I did well last term but there are still plenty of ways I can prepare for sixth year. It's more than just a placeholder between O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, you know."

Ron cleared his throat unwittingly, trying to not think about his own embarrassing sixth year. "I can imagine," he said in his most casual tone. Trying to think of a way to lead the conversation away from school work, he took a step towards the desk where a book caught his attention. He picked it up without a second thought, to Percy's chagrin. "Complex Locking Enchantments? Don't bother with those, Flitwick won't touch them in sixth year."

"You're only about to start second year. How can you possibly know?"

"A hunch."

"I would rather not rely on hunches," Percy said as he took back his book.

Nothing on the desk had moved one inch, still, by the way Percy rearranged everything, one would guess that a gnome had danced on top of it.

"The weather's great outside."

"I'm aware," Percy replied, not even turning towards the window.

"Are you also aware that you're a git and that we're going to the pond today?"

Even as he spoke to Percy, Ron could hear the excited chatter downstairs. He knew his mother was almost done packing lunch, and it wouldn't take long before Harry came looking for him. To be honest, the trip had Ron a tad nervous, what with the pond being outside the limits of the Burrow's enchantments. However, his father had insisted on all of them going, and Ron couldn't stay behind. He planned to keep his wand close as a precaution, not caring if doing magic so far away from the Burrow's walls could get him in trouble.

Percy, however, had every intention of staying alone in the house. Something that didn't help avoiding his future break from the family.

"Come on, you've been rotting here all summer. A break won't hurt, and I bet the pond will be more fun than whatever you're planning to do here," Ron pressed.

"I suppose it will, but that doesn't mean I have time for playing."

A couple times more, Ron tried to convince him. And a couple times more, Percy refused. It was irritating how his brother kept missing the point. The older Percy was still a bookworm, but at least he had his priorities straight, and family always came first. Ron wondered what Audrey would say to this Percy, or if the present version of her could have better luck getting into Percy's thick skull than he did.

Hermione was never this stubborn. Not like this.

It wasn't that Hermione wasn't headstrong about schoolwork, because by Merlin's beard there was no one more nagging about exam schedules than she was. But Hermione liked to laugh too, and Ron could easily sway her away if there was no pressing deadline. Even back during first year, when her passion for rules had been at its worst, Hermione had always found time for her friends. She wouldn't miss a trip to the pond, an important Quidditch game, or even most practices for fuck's sake. Sure, she would often carry a book along, but whenever she put it down it was as if grades were never invented.

Percy didn't understand that. Not this Percy.

For ages, the twins had taken the mickey on Ron about how alike Percy and Hermione were. It had gotten worse once they'd noticed they could get Ron riled up by implying that snogging her would be like practically snogging Percy. Joking or not, they had landed completely off the mark. Books aside, Hermione and Percy were nothing alike. Percy preferred to work alone, while Hermione thrived in heated arguments and breaking the norms. Percy was an overthinker, whereas Hermione knew what she wanted and wasn't afraid to fight for it. Ron was also sure as hell that kissing Hermione wasn't remotely like kissing Percy, though he didn't care about ever proving that point.

After a moment of silence, Percy shifted in his place. Ron wasn't sure how to approach him. Percy was a fifteen year old bloke after all, and may find any talk about regrets a bit too dramatic for his taste. That said, Ron had to make him understand somehow.

I must do it. For Percy's own good.

"Family is more important than grades."

Percy arched an eyebrow. "I'm studying my subjects, not leaving the family," Percy blurted, and Ron couldn't help snorting loudly. The reaction was of course misunderstood by Percy, who went on, just as annoyed, "Don't give me that look. I'm half-way through a complicated topic, as you've noticed. I can spend time with everyone later, but a bad grade can't be taken back," he reasoned. "Besides, you don't need me to have fun."

"Rubbish. People are not forever," Ron let out. The argument might have sounded too mature for someone of his apparent age, but even less expected was what Ron said next, something his twelve-year old self would've never voiced out loud. "And 'course we need you, Perce. Things aren't as brilliant without you around."

Percy was surprised by the admission. "Ehm, thank you."

A shrug was Ron's response. He might still manage to make his brother see sense, something he never imagined happening in second year. But being fair, second-year Ron hadn't been insightful enough to strengthen his bonds with Percy while there was still time. For fuck's sake, he hadn't been insightful enough to see that his sister was being possessed by Lord fucking Voldemort! How the hell was his younger self supposed to notice something more subtle such as Percy drifting away?

The thought made Ron feel like a dead awful brother. He knew it was no excuse, but back then he'd been mostly focused on the whole Chamber of Secrets business. He got into heated arguments with whoever dared to call Harry the heir of Slytherin, and kept an eye on the attacks of the real heir — not having an effing clue that it was his sister behind them.

There was also Dobby.

Thankfully, the house-elf had not appeared yet, though Ron wondered how he should act once he did. Dobby's attempts to save Harry were a pain in the arse, but unlike his younger self, Ron knew of Dobby's worth.

Percy wouldn't bat an eyelid at the house-elves' problem either. Another thing that differentiated him from Hermione.

"So, Perce, are you going to the pond, then?" asked Ron with a grin.

For a moment, it looked as if his brother was considering it. However, Percy's expression soon sobered. "Sorry, I can't. I would rather stay here doing something useful. Grades may not be as important as people, however, they're beneficial to our future. The best I can do for everyone, the best we can all do, is get good grades. That's what is expected of us," he explained, "You would be doing your part as well if you focused more on your subjects and less on fooling around."

A fake chuckle of disbelief escaped Ron. "You want me to blow off a trip to the pond and stay here like you? With my nose stuck in a book? You're mental."

"I didn't mean the pond," Percy said, with the twitch of a frown.

"What did you mean then?"

There was a brief pause. Percy averted his gaze, and hesitated before turning back to Ron looking rather uncomfortable. "I—well, I had high hopes for you, Ronald. You had a great start of the year, excelling in a number of topics from what I could notice," he began. His frown turned more evident. "But then, you started listening to Fred and George. Taking part in silly pranks, like what happened to Malfoy, and—"

"I had nothing to do with that!"

Percy went on as if Ron hadn't interrupted. "— and then the forest detention. It's as if you were trying to sabotage yourself! Don't get me started on the end of the term. Going into a section of the castle that was explicitly forbidden? You disappointed me."

Ron was gobsmacked and for the whole of ten seconds, he didn't know what to say. "Are you out of your mind? I wasn't toying around in the park. Someone was trying to kill me!"

"It wasn't your place to be. You should've gone to someone wiser to deal with it. Like Professor Dumbledore."

Percy had no clue how close Ron had been to doing just that. Plenty of times. Still, Ron had decided to take his own path, and it had worked out in the end. More or less. Ron was the first to admit he'd make mistakes, but he'd avoided the worst. Something Percy didn't seem to understand or maybe even care about.

"How many first years do you know who can fight against a grown-up attacker? I did well, everyone else said as such," he replied, defensively. "I also kept my friends safe. Reckon that's something to be more proud of than your stupid grades."

"Proud? Are our parents proud? They're worried with all of these enchantments that we now have to keep around the house. And those friends you saved, they wouldn't have been in danger in the first place if you hadn't dragged him down there, would they? Really, I can't fathom why a great wizard like Professor Dumbledore would reward such a lawless behaviour."

The words struck a nerve. Percy had said them for the wrong reasons, but that didn't make them a lie. Their parents were indeed worried sick. Ron's mother chased him around the house with Calming Draughts, and his father worked hard on those protective enchantments. The trip to the pond was the first one they'd allowed themselves in the whole summer. Then there was that bit about endangering Harry and Hermione.

It irked Ron, not being able to explain himself. That he couldn't tell him all what he'd been through. But even if he did, Percy wouldn't understand. As pompous and studious as he was, he knew nothing. He was just a boy.

"You have no bloody idea about anything," he gritted between teeth.

His murderous glare caught Percy off guard, but the boy didn't seem willing to back off.

"And you do?" Percy asked, looking at Ron as if he were the silly kid he appeared to be.

"Yes! I do know better! So shut up and listen, you git," Ron blurted out. "You got it wrong. All of it. Your family won't be waiting for you until you have time for them. Top grades and school rules are worth dung if you're alone. If you don't get your head out of the arse soon and see what truly matters, you'll regret it."

Percy's face turned red, and his frown intensified. "We'll disagree then," he said with his nose up high. "Now, if you excuse me. I'm busy, and you've taken enough of my time already."

"Fine! Suit yourself!" Ron spat, then left the room fuming.

Fuck. There goes subtlety and not being too dramatic for a stupid trip to the pond.

o0o0o

The pond near the Burrow wasn't large by any means, though it was good enough for a whole day of splashing in the water. It was over thirty feet long, but barely as wide as Ron's bedroom. There was one section where the water came all the way to Ron's shoulders and one could get a few strokes out of it, but it wasn't good enough to do lots of swimming. Mostly, Ron and his siblings used it to take a dive, or to play along the shallows with Woozy Whirlpools or Bouncing Water Bombs — magical water trinkets that Uncle Bilius used to get for them.

It turned out that Fred had saved a few of those, and soon the pond was attacked by the bouncing bombs and miniature water twisters. As chaotic as that was, it still took some time before Ron started enjoying the day. His meeting with Percy had left a bitter taste in his mouth, and the trip itself made Ron anxious. It wasn't only that they had crossed the Burrow's enchantments to get to the pond, but the fact that the enchantments were needed in the first place, what made him tense.

Bloody hell. It's the summer before second year. Not sixth or seventh. It shouldn't be like this.

At any rate, Ron went along with the trip. He tried to look as excited and careless as a twelve-year old. Even so, he didn't stray too far away from the shore — where his wand rested — and kept constant vigilance around the whole perimeter.

The twins and Harry didn't have qualms about enjoying the water. They kept splashing in the pond as if their only worry in the world was to avoid being hit by a Bouncing Water Bomb — which aside from hitting them with water from five-feet high, weren't really that dangerous.

"Lighten up already. The prefect is where he wants to be," Fred told Ron, noticing the low effort he was putting into dodging.

"We told you not to bother, didn't we?" George reminded him.

They had warned him alright, but Ron hadn't been willing to give up on Percy. He still wasn't giving up on him. Once both of their tempers cooled down, he would try to mend things with his brother. He wasn't a teenager and would be the first to approach the matter rather than hold onto silly grudges. Nevertheless, Ron had no bloody idea how he was going to get Percy to see reason.

Time passed at the pond and nothing suspicious happened. Ron relaxed, if only a little. Then, he shifted his attention to another one of his siblings.

Ginny had spent all morning under a big oak's shade with their parents. Despite coming prepared with a swimsuit and loving the pond, she hadn't dared touch the water yet. Ron knew she was still intimidated by Harry's presence, which made no bloody sense given how outgoing she truly was. He'd tried to have her join them in their games the whole week, yet his sister would always chicken out at the last moment, retreating hurriedly to her room with a squeak.

It had gone on for too long already. Ron didn't want her to start snogging his best friend any time soon, but at least she should start acting like herself.

"Hey, Gin! Pass me a sandwich, won't you?" he shouted from the water.

Calling her that wouldn't sit well with her — as Ron knew — and the hint of a frown formed on her forehead. Even so, and after a few hushed words with their mother, the girl stood up and walked towards the pond. Ron made her reach the very edge of the shore and, once close enough, he pulled her in with one swift move. Ginny wasn't expecting it, and fell into the deep part of the pond with a loud splash.

"Ron!" his mother scowled from the grass.

The next second, the woman's voice was lost in the background because Ginny came out of the water, gasping for air. Her blazing red hair was as wet as the rest of her, and she had to push it aside to see where she was.

"Ron! You prat! What the heck is wrong with you?!" she shouted as she furiously splashed water at him.

A wet sandwich flew in his direction, which Ron barely managed to dodge. The twins laughed and howled, but Ginny had enough. She threw as much water as sandwich chunks at them. That was at least until she spotted Harry smirking at their side, and her frown faded into her blushing face.

"It was actually Harry's idea," Ron hurried, before Ginny chickened out again.

"W-what?" Ginny asked in a low voice.

Ron pushed through the lie before his startled friend could deny it, "Harry dared me to pull you in. He said 'Ron, pull her! Pull her!'"

The girl's eyes widened.

"I didn't!" Harry finally found his voice.

"You know what? I heard him too," George chipped in.

Fred scratched his chin, "I think I did too. Maybe Harrykins thinks his guest status gives him immunity."

Ron didn't know how it was possible, but with everything that was going on, he found himself smirking. Even more so after noticing Harry's distressed look.

"He said you splash water like a girl," Ron poked harder into Ginny's temper.

With uncertainty, Ginny turned to Harry. It was clear she was debating between staying or running back to the grass. However, her spirited self won and, with some hesitation, she splashed some droplets at Harry. The sudden action caught Harry off guard, and Ron knew Ginny would have bolted away right then if Harry hadn't grinned and answered, starting a full blown splashing war.

The afternoon turned way better after that. Fred even pulled out a Bouncing Water Bomb he'd been saving, one that he and George had modified to follow people instead of just bouncing about. It was madness. The good kind.

At some point, Ginny left the pond, but only to ditch her soaked sundress and dive back into the pond in her swimsuit. By the time their mother left to start with dinner, Ginny was already laughing openly along with Harry.

Even when they soon ran out of magical trinkets, Ron enjoyed the trip way more than he'd expected. At times, he even forgot he was a full-grown man instead of a boy. He splashed and ran. He jumped and dove. He enjoyed the water play as if there were no evil dangers out there. Something he would later beat himself over, because he got distracted and lost all of his constant vigilance.

Moody would've disapproved.

Eventually, the trip was over. Once out of the water, their father cast some hasty Drying Spells on them. Ginny's shyness returned, though Ron made sure to keep her close on the way back to the Burrow. He even filled the conversation with plenty of 'Oh, Ginny likes that's and 'Don't you, Ginny?'s.

All in all, Ginny didn't say much, and limited herself mostly to pushing her hair behind her ear and smiling. However, she did give a few short answers and wasn't as afraid of speaking in front of Harry as she'd been at the start of the day.

Helped one sibling and yelled at another. More than enough for a day's work.

o0o0o

By the time they reached home, Ron barely had any energy left in him. He was ready to call it a day, though not before having a hearty dinner with his family. He was looking forward to the pork chops his mother had prepared, and his mouth watered just thinking of the pudding she'd made for dessert. However, once they arrived and he saw her waiting anxiously by the door, none of that mattered.

"There's a man in the house," she said.

Ron's heart went into overdrive. They could've smashed the blasted pudding to the floor and he wouldn't have fucking cared. He reached for his wand without a second thought, forcing his pulse to remain steady. Cold sweat dripped down his forehead and he couldn't avoid imagining a pair of mismatched eyes waiting for him inside the Burrow.

A quick look around told Ron that everyone was taken aback. Harry seemed particularly tense, but Ron had bigger problems. He had to think of a way to get them all out of there, and he'd just realised that they weren't even complete.

Bugger! Percy! That prat is still up there.

"A man, you say?" Ron's father asked finally, interrupting his thoughts.

Ron's mother nodded. "Not a dangerous one, I believe. Someone from work."

That seemed to relax them immediately. Despite how flustered he still seemed, Harry's frown lessened. Ginny sighed, and along with the twins, turned to look at their father, still looking quite lost. Ron had recovered his breath, but he wasn't about to drop his guard. Instead, he hurried to be the first one to cross the door, beating even his parents inside.

"Ron! Wait!"

He played deaf to their warnings and stormed inside with a determined look. However, when he entered the house, he was dumbstruck by what he found.

It wasn't the American.

The man waiting in the middle of the living room was shorter and slightly more portly. He had glasses, small ears and a dignified look to him. Ron was startled at once, not because he didn't know him, but because he wasn't expecting him at all.

"Greetings, my name is Saul Croaker. You may not recognise me, but I work at the Ministry as well," the man said, extending a hand to Ron's father. For a second though, his judging eyes landed on Ron.

Ron's father took his hand. "Hmm, why of course. I do recognise you. I'm Arthur Weasley, by the way."

Saul Croaker nodded.

What was he doing here? Hadn't that prick told Ron off when he'd been desperately seeking his help? Had he changed his mind? At the end of last term, Ron had sent him a letter to warn this man about the American. Although he never got a response. Was that why he was here?

"You have quite a security protocol here," Saul Croaker said, eyeing Ron's mother, who was standing still a tad nervous by her husband.

"Yes, we do. Sorry for the inconvenience. It's a precaution. I don't know if you're aware, but my son got into an altercation with a man a few weeks ago," Ron heard his father explain.

Croaker nodded. "I've read the papers."

For a moment, Ron wondered what his mother could have possibly asked him. It surely hadn't been enough. She didn't know the man. Perhaps he wasn't who he claimed to be. Perhaps he was an impostor.

Fear took over Ron, and he gripped at his wand tighter. Still, his fear was unfounded. If the man before him was the American, things would have been a bloody disaster by now.

After a weird look from Harry, Ron forced himself to relax. Elsewhere in the living room, an uncomfortable silence reigned. That was at least until his father cleared his throat and spoke next.

"And… What can I do for you?" he asked Croaker.

With an indifferent tone, Saul Croaker went on to explain about a document he was looking for. One so urgent that it couldn't wait for Monday to be found and which Croaker thought had inexplicably found its way to the Department of Misuse of Muggle Artefacts. A big pile of rubbish by all accounts.

"Wish I could be of more help," Ron's father lamented. "I haven't brought office documents here in quite some time. And I would've noticed it if I had your document."

"Would you mind taking a look regardless? It is, as I said, of the utmost importance," Croaker insisted, petulantly.

After a bewildered look he shared with his wife, Ron's father ended up shrugging.

One by one, Ron's siblings went upstairs as dinner was obviously postponed. His father went up as well to look for that document that didn't exist. Ron's mother stayed around at first. She offered the man a seat and seemed willing to keep him company, but Croaker took out a book and started reading, rudely ignoring her. Ron's mother eventually left with a frown, and Croaker remained standing with his book, as if he'd never been offered to sit down.

Ron made to follow Harry upstairs too, but a few steps later, he stopped. "Err… mate? I'm going to try and smuggle some food out of the kitchen, I'm peckish. Why don't you set the Exploding Snaps or something? I'll be up in a tic."

A doubtful look appeared on Harry's face, but eventually he nodded and continued on his way. Ron watched him go, then turned back to the living room where that wanker was waiting.

"What do you want?" Ron hissed at Croaker, once he made sure his mother wasn't around.

The man raised an eyebrow derisively, putting his book aside. "You were the one who wrote to me."

"Surprised you didn't burn the letter," Ron snapped, "Wasn't that tampering with your oh-so-precious timeline?"

Saul Croaker frowned. "Is this some sort of mockery to you? Of course I never wanted this! I told you to get your memory erased. A warning you heedlessly ignored," he whispered angrily.

It was hard to forget that day. Ron had been clinging to this man as his only hope, and he'd cared half a rat's arse about his distress. Which begged the question again, why was he bloody here now?

Apprehensive, Ron turned around, though none of his family appeared to be eavesdropping. "Erasing my memory wouldn't have done crap. If you must know, there's another one like me. Another time tourist. One who doesn't care bollocks about preserving the stability of time."

Croaker wrinkled his nose. "No need to be crass. I am aware."

"Ha! So you have read the letter? Guess the world didn't end by reading something from a time-traveller."

Red covered the man's face. Looking around, he groaned, "Hush! This is not the place."

It wouldn't take long for Ron's father to come back down, that much was certain. However, Ron was pissed at this man. And, considering the American was free and Ron couldn't return to his time just yet, he was in no hurry to get info about Croaker's so-called Ageing Mirror.

He ended up sighing. "Then, I gather you weren't attacked."

The man shook his head. "Two can place protective enchantments."

Ron paused. "You want to help me then?"

"I want this man to be stopped. And to salvage as much as can be salvaged of this timeline," he stated, adjusting his glasses. "It appears to me that it does indeed require some collaboration with you."

Blinking incredulously, Ron replied, "Blimey. You'll help me, but you really really really don't want to. I get it."

A clattering noise echoed from far upstairs, and both of them remained silent while they looked up. His father must've stumbled over something looking for those documents. Faint footsteps resumed.

"We don't have time for this folly. Write to me once you can. We need to set a meeting for as soon as you're free to talk," Croaker said, then gestured around. "I gather none of them know?"

"No. My family doesn't know," Ron frowned.

"Good. I would rather minimise the number of people aware of your condition. Anyhow, we do need someone with the means to take action against this man, and you don't seem like the most level-headed of people," Croaker said, giving Ron a scrutinising look. "Does Albus Dumbledore know?"

It was the second time someone suggested something like that this day.

Why did Ron ever look for this man's help? He was infuriating and completely clueless. Honestly, this was the kind of person Percy would grow up to be, if he never took his head out of his arse.

"I've done well by myself so far," Ron threw back.

Saul Croaker narrowed his eyes. "Even if I trusted your decision-making, you're a twelve year old boy."

"I'm twenty four."

A gnashing of teeth was audible, "You know what I meant. This man needs to be stopped, and you cannot do that from your classroom."

Ron raised his head high to look him in the eyes. "I know what I'm doing. Dumbledore might not be in the loop yet, but I told him all he needed to be able to track this man."

"Did you?" Croaker asked, doubtfully.

"You're damn right I did. He wouldn't be any closer to catching him even if he knew who I was."

"Did you inform him of any of this man's place of operations? Goals? Common associates?"

Ron was annoyed at the way Croaker easily dismissed his choices. He was rolling his eyes at each of his questions, because he knew there was nothing more to tell Dumbledore about. Ron knew nothing about that rubbish. That was until he got to the last question and he froze.

Common associates?... Garvan Ferrara. Aster Prince. Those men at the Department of Mysteries. He hadn't told Dumbledore about any of them. The American could have contacted them ages ago.

Crap.

Saul Croaker must have noticed his expression, because he shook his head disapprovingly and sneered. "I take that you didn't anticipate this man following you to the past either?"

Ron frowned. He didn't answer.

"I thought so," he mocked. "I've read of Ron Weasley's surprising duelling skills in the Prophet, but of your sloppiness… I never knew."

"Sod off. I'll find a way to tell Dumbledore as soon as the term starts," Ron muttered.

He was going to let Dumbledore know about Ferrara and the others. Also about Sirius — Ron still had to free him somehow. However, and regardless of what he would tell Croaker now, Ron hadn't decided if he should tell the whole truth to Dumbledore. He could get the headmaster to listen to twelve-year old Ron, and he'd done well on his own so far.

If Ron decided to tell Dumbledore, it would be on his own terms.

Croaker eyed Ron carefully, "The wait is nonsense. I should go and talk to Dumbledore myself."

"No! What would you tell him? It's me who knows these things," Ron pushed. "The start of term is not far away now. I'll deal with it, and I'll set that bloody meeting with you. Just wait."

The footsteps became louder. Someone was coming down.

Looking trapped, Croaker gritted his teeth. He huffed and leaned forward. "Listen, boy. This is no game. I treat matters with due diligence, and expect others to do the same. From what I can tell, you don't. You just wing it, as they say," he whispered with a tone of contempt. "You're the kind of person who has good intentions, but keeps making mistakes. Foolhardy and unreliable. More a convenient tool than a leader. The sooner you let those who know best make the decisions, the better. Otherwise, you're going to get people hurt."

The blood in Ron's veins started to boil, but he didn't have a comeback. He was left speechless and gaping. By the time he found words to say, it was his father's voice that echoed in the living room.

"Ron? What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Oh, don't mind him. He was retelling me the story of how his headmaster saved him," Croaker said, making Ron clench his fist. "Any luck with those papers?"

"Unfortunately not. I'm sorry. They're not here," Ron's father said, looking honestly upset.

"Shame. I better keep looking then. I appreciate the attempt," the man answered and, after a bow, he left the house.

As Ron climbed the stairs to his bedroom, he made an effort to keep that prick's words away. Croaker was just as clueless as Percy. Neither of them knew squat about what it felt like to be in Ron's place.

Yes. Ron had made mistakes. But he'd also managed to stop the American mostly on his own. He was an Auror. He knew how to deal with this rubbish. And Dumbledore… He had good intentions, but also plans Ron would rather not go through again.

By the time Ron reached the top floor of the Burrow, something else caught his attention. There was someone inside his room talking to Harry. There was the sound of jumping and bouncing too, and he could swear some things were being thrown off of his chest of drawers. He was about to step inside when he recognised the squeaky voice, and stopped before touching the door knob.

Dobby. Brilliant. Just what I needed.

Ron thought a bit about what to do. In the end though, he decided to wait. Once the house-elf left, he would enter and ask Harry all about it, then he would take it from there.

You'll just wing it, a thought came to him.

Frowning, Ron pushed the words out of his head. It didn't matter what Croaker thought. If it were up to that wanker, Ron wouldn't do anything that changed the timeline. And he had to. He had to keep Ginny safe, and avoid the whole Chamber mess as well.

It was going to be a hurdle of course, but if he'd handled the stone, he could handle this as well. He would show them.