Fate

by TheTrueSpartan

When Ron discovers that he can see the future, his entire fate is thrown off of its course. A story about adventure, friendship, growing up, and pushing forward through hardships. This story will get darker as it progresses, just like the original Harry Potter novels. It will cover all Seven Years of Hogwarts, but mostly from Ron's perspective. No Mary Sues, no Character bashing.

98. Chapter 98 - The Day After

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Chapter 98 is here! It's slightly shorter than my usual, but I've been really busy with Job-Hunting, and other life stresses, to find time to write this out. Anyway...

Please Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, and I do not intend to make any money off of this. Harry Potter is the intellectual property of J. K. Rowling , and I take no credit of it whatsoever.

I was also inspired by Demon Eyes Laharl's: THE RED KNIGHT! and also from Random-Fruitcake04's: CHOICES! I hope you check them out as well because they are genuinely very good stories.

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Fate

Chapter 98 – The Day After

Ronald Weasley's POV

Saturday 28th November, 1993 (The Gala – Near Midnight)

"There you are," Bill smiled as he approached a still dazed Ron. "Are you alright? Regretting drinking?"

"Yes," Ron replied. I'm regretting seeing that vision.

"Don't regret having a good time with your friends," Bill stopped by Ron's side. "Congratulations, by the way. I had dozens of people approach me about you, and most of them wanted me to introduce you to them."

"Names?" Ron asked.

"Um… Shafiq, Abbot, Macmillan… The French are quite fond of you," Bill listed. "Oh, and Mr. Ollivander asked about you."

"Mr. Ollivander? The Wand-Seller?" Ron looked to Bill, and he noticed that his brother was also inebriated.

"He asked if your wand was serving you well," Bill smiled at his little brother. I forgot that the Ollivander Family is part of the Sacred Twenty Eight.

"My wand is perfect for me," Ron stated. "How was your night, Bill? I didn't see much of you."

"I had a good time," Bill shrugged. "I met a rather nice girl tonight, she was from the French Families. Fleur Delacour."

"I know her," Ron nodded. "And?"

"And, nothing," Bill replied. "We talked for a bit… She told me all about her school, and I told her about Hogwarts."

"Wasn't her poor English a problem?" Ron asked.

"Wouldn't know, we spoke in French," Bill replied, and Ron gave Bill a confused look. "Yes, Ron, I speak French."

"Of course you do," Ron smirked. "When did you learn French?"

"Hogwarts," Bill scratched the back of his head. "I had a crush on this girl, and she was from France. I figured that I'd impress her."

"Did it work?" Ron asked.

"She had a boyfriend from Beauxbatons, so no," Bill replied. "I was devastated, but I continued my lessons anyway. Figured that speaking another language would come in handy."

"Daphne wants to teach me," Ron told Bill, who grinned at Ron. "Stop that."

"Learn it, Ron," Bill advised. "You'll need it for your new job."

"That's what she said," Ron looked back ahead. "If I get the time, I'll take some lessons."

A comfortable silence fell between them, and Ron once again began to decipher his latest vision. A flying shadow, the Rookery is unsafe, the Lovegoods will become targets, and my Godson's name is Lysander. I have to warn Dumbledore about this new form of attack. That was no ordinary Explosive Curse, and why didn't the Wards work? Fuck, I need a sober mind for this sort of thinking. I keep feeling like I didn't see enough.

"Your friends are coming," Bill nudged Ron, who quickly broke out of his thoughts.

Ron noticed that his friends were approaching him and Bill, while the parents were all heading for separate fireplaces. Lord Greengrass didn't look particularly pleased with his daughters, but Ron figured that Mary had told him to not say anything. As Ron looked around, his eyes met Cornelius Nott's. Both wizards just stared at each other, and Ron fought the urge to spit on the ground. Fucking scum. Going back to your Master, eh?

"Our parents were not amused," came Theo's voice, and Ron looked away from Cornelius Nott.

"No, they were not," Daphne sighed out, she was holding Astoria's hand. Tori looks utterly spent, and judging from her drooping head, she's also drunk.

"Where are the other first years?" Ron asked.

"They're on their way," Millie told him, she at least looked a little sober.

"Millie, take everyone into the Headmaster's Office," Ron ordered. "I will wait for the last of the first years, and join you shortly."

"Understood," Millie said, and then she nudged a sleepy Theo towards the green fire.

"Carry me, Goddess," Theo chuckled, and Millie put his arm around her shoulders.

"Let's go," Millie said as they disappeared through the fire.

"Tori, go and wait with Millie," Daphne requested.

"No," Tori refused childishly. "I want to stay with you."

"Daphne, I'll join you in a bit," Ron promised. "Go on, take care of Tori."

Daphne stared at him through droopy eyes, and then she gave him a nod.

"Sanctuary," Daphne said, and both Ron and Bill blinked at her. Sanctuary? Wait… She wants me to meet her there? And she mentioned it out in the open? Alcohol really is the worst. That was so careless, Daphne.

Daphne then went through the fire alongside Tori, who was now leaning on her big sister.

"Sanctuary?" Bill asked Ron. "What's that mean?"

"I have no fucking idea…" Ron feigned ignorance.

"She's clearly quite drunk," Bill said slowly. "Ron… You should get her to a bed without shenanigans."

"What are you implying?" Ron looked to Bill with an innocent look.

"I'm saying that I know what kids your age get up to when they're drunk," Bill put his hand on Ron's right shoulder. "But a gentleman doesn't take advantage of a drunk girl. Right now, she's got very little inhibitions, but only because she is not in her right mind. The honorable thing to do would be to let her sleep and recover."

"You're right," Ron agreed. Plus, I don't want her to regret anything tomorrow. If she's sober, and still wants to take things further, then I'll know for sure that it's what she wants. "I'll get her to bed."

"Good," Bill rubbed Ron's back. "I think I'll head off myself. Mum and dad are still in the Ballroom, no doubt having a chat with Percy. Take care of those first years."

"I will," Ron gave Bill a quick hug. "Take care, big brother. I'll see you soon."

"A hug?" Bill gave Ron a squeeze. "You should get drunk more often." Wait… Why am I hugging him? Stupid alcohol… Making me act all sappy.

"There's Ron!" came Lysandra's voice, and Ron broke away from Bill.

Lysandra ran up and clung to Ron's left arm, an excited look on her face.

"Let him go," Hestia rolled her eyes, she was helping her sister walk straight.

"Jealous?" Lysandra smirked at the Carrow twins, who were now eyeing Bill.

"I'll be on my way, then," Bill smiled at the first years, and then he left for the Ballroom.

"Your brother?" Flora asked, and Ron gave her a nod. "He's very handsome…" I know.

"Through the fire," Ron pointed towards the floo. "Go on, I'll join you shortly."

"Come with us?" Lysandra put his left arm against her maturing chest. What is she doing?

"Lysandra, behave," Ron patted her head with his gloved hand. "Go on, the other Slytherins are already inside."

"Then who are you waiting for?" Hestia asked. The old man.

"My brother Percy," Ron lied, and Lysandra pouted as she let go of his arm. "I'll see you tomorrow. Hestia, make sure that all the first… Wait… Where's John?"

"He went home with his Family," Flora told Ron. "His parents are quite the worry-warts."

"Plus, he was acting like a baby," Lysandra giggled. "Turns out, he's never had alcohol before."

"Right…" Ron shook his head. "Hestia, you're in charge of making sure that the first years are in bed by midnight."

"I won't fail you," Hestia said rather formally.

"I won't fail you," Lysandra mimicked Hestia, and then she broke into a giggle. "Hestia, lighten up."

"No," Hestia said bluntly, and then she guided her sister towards the fire. "Let's go, Lysandra. You can flirt with Ron later."

"I don't flirt with Ron," Lysandra lost her amusement, and then she shot Ron an embarrassed look before running after the twins. Is that why she put my arm against her chest? Did she think that I'd be impressed? Pfft… Has she seen Daphne's tits? Wait, I can't say tits in regards to Daphne. It's disrespectful. So what should I call them? Daphne's mounds? Daphne's knockers? Daphne's Bonbons? Daphne's 'assets'? Eh, I'll just ask her later.

After nearly five minutes of waiting, Ron saw Percy and Dumbledore guiding the remaining Hogwarts students towards him. Finally, I was getting tired of waiting around. I'm glad that Neville is with them alive and well, I expected his Gran to end him.

"Ronald," Dumbledore smiled at him. "Good of you to open a floo for us."

"I'm a gentleman, aren't I?" Ron grinned, something that Percy didn't like very much.

"Ron, that's the Headmaster you're speaking to," Percy frowned at him. "Getting drunk, and now this… What's the matter with you?"

"We all have our moments," Dumbledore turned his smile towards Percy. "Can I count on you to get everyone to their common rooms, Percy?"

"Yes, Sir," Percy gave a firm nod, his voice turning pompous. No spine… A shame. Let's just hope that he doesn't let Madam Bones walk all over him.

Ron watched as Dumbledore and Percy led the remaining Hogwarts students through the floo, and once he was all alone, Ron drew in a deep breath to refocus his mind. Tell Dumbledore about the vision, and then go to the Sanctuary. And… no shenanigans. Don't take advantage of Daphne's drunk state, even if it is tempting.

Ron walked through the green flames, and he found himself standing in the Headmaster's Office. Percy was helping Neville towards the door, while Cedric led the others. My friends and first years are already gone, and no Luna either. As for Dumbledore, the old man was watching Ron from his chair with an amused smile. Ron walked up and took his usual seat, and Dumbledore said nothing.

"Ron, let's go," Percy called to him.

"You go on," Ron waved a dismissive hand. "I want to speak to the Headmaster."

"About what?" Percy sounded surprised.

"Be on your way, Percy," Ron shot a quick look back. Questions. Everyone has so many questions.

"Goodnight, Percy," Dumbledore said, and Percy nodded slowly before leaving.

Once they were alone, Dumbledore silenced the room with a flick of his wand.

"Would you like some tea, Ronald?" Dumbledore asked, his blue eyes were twinkling.

"Sure," Ron nodded, his eyes were drooping again.

"You shouldn't dismiss your elders," Dumbledore said as he waved his hand in the direction of his tea set.

"Too out of it to care," Ron mumbled. "Why do people always ask so many unnecessary questions? I mean, I want to talk to you, so what's their issue with it?"

"An irritable drunk," Dumbledore chuckled. "I'm not even surprised."

A cup of tea floated in front of Ron, and he took it carefully. Let's have a taste. Ron sipped his bitter tea, and he couldn't help but smile at Dumbledore. He remembered that I don't take sugar? We've only had tea together once or twice, but he still remembered.

"This is good," Ron said. "Thanks."

"Think nothing of it," Dumbledore said, and then he took a sip from his own cup. "Now… What can I do for you?"

"I saw the Lovegoods die," Ron replied, and Dumbledore stopped mid-sip. Too blunt?

"Excuse me?" Dumbledore put his cup down, his brow furrowed.

"Don't be so alarmed," Ron sniggered, which only alarmed Dumbledore even more. "It was in a vision, Headmaster. If the Entity felt the need to show it to me, then that means that we can change it."

"Still… You are not disturbed?" Dumbledore asked slowly.

"I was at first, but I've seen worse," Ron shrugged. "I once saw Harry's head being crushed by a Mountain Troll's teeth." I can still remember that 'popping' sound. Yeesh, what a horrible way to die.

"Ronald, what of the Lovegoods?" Dumbledore asked.

"Oh, sorry," Ron apologized, and then he sat up straighter. "Well, in my vision, Luna was taking care of her little brother, Lysander."

"A boy," Dumbledore whispered to himself.

"My Godson," Ron smiled proudly. Stay focused. "Anyway, Pandora called Luna in for lunch, and while they were sitting around the dining table, an Explosive Curse of some sort blew them all to pieces. The whole Rookery was on fire, and the Lovegoods were dead before they even knew it."

"Gods…" Dumbledore closed his eyes. "I am so sorry, dear boy."

"Eh," Ron shrugged again, much to Dumbledore's dismay. "The date was the twentieth of August, 1995. Oh, and before the Explosive Curse hit the Rookery, there was this weird 'whistling' noise. Pandora seemed to recognize it, and she screamed in fear before… Well, before the Rookery was leveled."

"What else?" Dumbledore asked.

"I ran outside to see who had cast it, and I saw this shadow flying through the sky," Ron replied, and something flashed behind the old man's eyes. "You know what it was?"

"It was him," Dumbledore replied, and Ron blinked at him. "Lord Voldemort has many powerful abilities, Ronald, and one of them is the ability to fly without a broom. He becomes shadow and mist, and it's nearly impossible to hit him in that form."

"I know he's our enemy, but that's wicked," Ron noted.

"Yes, I suppose," Dumbledore couldn't help but agree. "This Explosive Curse, however, intrigues me far more. You say that the entire Rookery was leveled?"

"Fiery runes," Ron nodded. "Whatever that Spell was, it's immensely powerful. I mean, the Rookery has Protective Wards around it, but they didn't do anything against such a Spell."

"He may have undone them," Dumbledore suggested. "With his skill, he could easily disarm such Wards without anyone being the wiser." Dumbledore then leaned back in his chair, his left hand stroking his beard. "Odd…"

"What's odd?" Ron finished his tea. Does he have biscuits?

"The Rookery wasn't under the Fidelius Charm," Dumbledore replied. Yeah, that is odd. "I plan to turn all of our houses into safe-houses before the start of next year, and yet, the Rookery was unprotected."

"Maybe the Lovegoods disagreed?" Ron suggested.

"No, I don't plan to give them a choice," Dumbledore told Ron, who frowned a little. "It's for their own safety, my boy."

"I understand," Ron shook his head clear. "Ignore me, I feel like I'm floating around." I can't even think straight. "Wait… If the Rookery was under the Fidelius Charm, but the Dark Lord still found it, doesn't that mean that someone told him?"

"A traitorous Secret-Keeper, just like Peter Pettigrew," Dumbledore matched Ron's gaze.

"Fuck."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said, his voice was far too calm. Hold on, I just thought of a plan.

"Let's not do anything about this," Ron said, his mind going into overdrive.

"Pardon?"

"Let's not do anything to change what I saw," Ron suggested. "At least until the Lovegoods pick their own Secret-Keeper."

"Who could potentially betray them," Dumbledore realized what Ron's plan was. "If we don't say anything, we might be able to find this traitor."

"Or know who could betray the Order eventually," Ron said. "The destruction of the Rookery won't happen until 1995, so we have time to change the Future. Finding a potential mole on top is just perfect."

"Very well, that is what we will do," Dumbledore agreed. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Ronald."

"Hey, we're a team, right?" Ron smiled as he stood up. "Good luck in your meeting with the French tomorrow."

"And good luck in your meeting with Priscilla," Dumbledore smiled back. "Use my name if you deem it necessary, we must get those children off the streets."

"My thoughts exactly," Ron nodded, and then he walked over to the exit. "Goodnight!"

"Goodnight, my boy," Dumbledore said back, he was quite saddened to see just how easy seeing death was for Ron.

Ron made his way down the spiral staircase, and then past the Stone Gargoyle. Once he was sure that he was alone, he headed for Sanctuary. A small part of him was still thinking about his vision, but as he neared the hidden room, his thoughts were quickly focused on Daphne. She will probably try something, but I need to refuse. I'll tell her why, and then I'll put her to bed. Ugh! I wanted to have fun… But Bill is right. It's the honorable thing to do.

Ron paced in front of the hidden entrance, and once it showed itself to Ron, he quickly made his way inside. Once the door was sealed shut, Ron looked around the Sanctuary for his drunk girlfriend. Where is she? Ron moved further into the room, and that's when he spotted her on the bed. She was curled up under the blanket, and her fur Stole Wrap was discarded on the floor by the bed. Well… She just made my job so much easier.

Ron pushed his shoes off, and then he took off his coat and tie. I'll sleep on the couch, just to make sure that she doesn't wake up. After he pulled his black dress-shirt out of his dress-pants, Ron picked up Daphne's discarded Stole Wrap. This looks really expensive, and she just threw it aside like it was nothing. I'll put it on a chair.

As he began folding the Stole Wrap, he heard the chiming sound of glass vials striking each other, and so he looked investigated the Stole Wrap. Much to his amazement, there was a pocket lined on the underside of the Stole Wrap. Best not pry. It could have personal things inside. Ron finished folding the Stole Wrap, and when he turned to leave, he heard Daphne shuffling in the bed.

"Ron? You're here," she sat up on her elbows, her shoulders bare.

Ron turned around with a droopy smile, and his eyes were immediately fixed on Daphne's chest. I can see the top half of her Bonbons!

"Outstanding," Ron grinned, his eyes unwavering.

"You really love my chest, don't you?" Daphne couldn't help but laugh at his comical grin. "What are you doing?"

"I just figured that I'd sleep on the couch," Ron shrugged. "I didn't want to disturb you."

"Don't be silly, come here," Daphne patted the bed.

"Let me put these away," Ron gestured to the clothes in his arms.

"Oh, be careful with the Stole Wrap," Daphne said, and Ron held back a snigger. You mean the one you threw on the floor? "It's got your Potions inside, and if they break, they'll ruin the fur."

"My Potions?" Ron asked, so it wasn't girl stuff.

"A vial of Calming Draught, a vial of Nutrition Potion, and a vial of Anti-Nausea Potion," Daphne listed, and then she fell back on the bed.

Ron already knew that she tended to carry his Potions around everywhere, but he was still incredibly touched by her gesture. You're smiling like an idiot, Ron. Put away the clothes. Ron walked over to the chairs, planted the clothes carefully, and then walked back to the bed.

"You'll ruin your shirt if you sleep in it," Daphne said. "You should take it off… You know, for the sake of the shirt."

"That was not even a little subtle," Ron started laughing, and Daphne joined in simply because she liked his laugh. "At least Pansy comes up with clever little schemes to see me shirtless, you just outright asked."

"I'm your girlfriend, so I have that power," Daphne giggled from the bed. "So? Will you do it?"

Ron thought about it, and he honestly couldn't decide. If I was sober, I'd say no on principle, but right now, I don't care as much. She's asking to see me shirtless, and I can't help but think that she doesn't care about-

"You don't have to," Daphne interrupted his thoughts. "I don't want to force you, that is. I… I just want you to know that I don't care about the scars, but I don't know how to prove it to you… I keep saying that I don't care, but I don't think you believe me." I don't, but that's my problem.

Ron shuffled his feet for a moment, and then he drew in a deep breath. Fuck it, she'll see me shirtless eventually, might as well be tonight. Ron began opening his buttons, and Daphne sat up to attention far too quickly for Ron's liking. Once the buttons were open, Ron took off his shirt and tossed it on the bed.

"Well?" Ron mumbled, his nervous eyes moving about the room. Should I tense? No, that'd be stupid… Don't be stupid. Wait… Just tense a little in order to look more defined. I still want her to like how I look. "Daphne?"

"Huh?" Daphne looked up at his face for a moment, and then she looked right back to his torso.

Ron just stood there for a few moments, he felt naked under her gaze. You are naked, you moron. Well, half-naked, at least.

"Ron, come and stand by the bed," Daphne said as she moved and sat on the bed's edge.

"You want me to stand in front of you?" Ron asked, finally looking at her. She has a greedy look on her face, and her eyes are fixed on my stomach. Does she like them?

"Please?" Daphne asked sweetly, and Ron decided to do as he was told.

The moment he stopped in front of her, she poked one of his abs. Ron tensed for a second, but when she began giggling in excitement, he felt his muscles relax completely. She hasn't mentioned even a single scar. Yet.

"They look… scary," Daphne smiled up at Ron, and then she poked him again. "Are they meant to be so tense? You're not nervous, are you?"

"I'm not nervous," Ron lied almost immediately, and she smiled more widely. "Fine, I'm a little nervous…"

"Don't be," Daphne all but whispered, she couldn't take her eyes off him.

Ron suddenly felt her finger on his stomach, and it began following the outlines of his abdomen muscles. Ron fought the urge to laugh because of how ticklish it was, but at the same time, it was rather arousing as well. Her finger just went over the scar on my torso, and she didn't stop. After a few seconds, Ron could feel her breath on his stomach.

"Daphne, you're falling forward," Ron said, and she shook her head.

"I want a better look," Daphne told him, clearly too occupied with her staring.

"Oh, okay…" Ron said dumbly. Guess I'll just stand here, then.

"Your top two are bigger than the lower four, but not by much," Daphne pointed out, she sounded rather breathless. "Your V-cut isn't as prominent as I imagined, but it's still so appealing to look at." Appealing? Yes! That's a win for Ronald Weasley!

"My what?" Ron asked.

"This," Daphne whispered, her nails lightly grazing the lower part of his torso. Merlin… That feels a little too good. "I've seen toned wizards in Witch Weekly, but this is so much better. I can actually touch you."

Daphne then pressed her face against his stomach, something that was quite alarming to Ron. She's being a little weird right now. Slowly, but surely, her arms wrapped themselves around his lower back, and she planted a wet kiss on one of his abs. Ron tensed, and his stomach began doing flips. That feels really nice.

"Can you do that again?" Ron managed to ask, and she kissed a different ab. "So I lived up to your expectations?"

"More than," Daphne replied, and then she continued giving him kisses.

Ron felt shivers run through him, and he found that his toes were curling.

"Daph, I think that's enough," Ron said, his lower half was waking up.

"Why?" Daphne looked up. "You don't like it?"

"I think I like it too much," Ron replied weakly.

Daphne looked straight at his crotch, and Ron frowned a little.

"Ahem," Ron 'coughed', and Daphne let go of him with a smirk.

Ron quickly stepped back, and then he reached for his shirt. As soon as he grabbed it, he began putting it on, and Daphne stood up to stop him.

"Don't hide them," Daphne said rather urgently.

"I don't think we should be doing this sort of stuff when we're drunk," Ron responded. "We should do it sober first, at least."

"What? Why?" Daphne asked.

"It doesn't feel right to me," Ron shrugged as he fixed up his buttons. "Sorry, Daph…"

Daphne stared at him for a few seconds, and then her body relaxed completely. Her dress is wrinkled.

"No, you're right," Daphne sighed. "It's not proper…"

"Exactly," Ron nodded. "Let's just go to sleep, alright?"

"Together?" Daphne asked.

"Yeah, sure," Ron said, and they both moved into the bed.

"Can we also cuddle?" Daphne grinned, she was clearly enjoying this.

"No mischief," Ron said, but Daphne was already clinging to him before he finished. "Goodnight, Daphne."

"G'night, Ron," Daphne whispered against his neck.

---

Five Minutes Later

"Daphne…" Ron groaned, and she stopped sucking on his neck.

"You're awake?" Daphne smiled against his skin.

"Yes…" Ron breathed out. I just didn't say anything because it felt so good. "What happened to 'No mischief'?"

"We've given each other love bites before," Daphne reminded him. "I agree that we shouldn't do anything too inappropriate, but love bites are alright, aren't they?" Her words are all slurred, she's clearly more intoxicated than I am.

"Just love bites… Promise?" Ron couldn't resist.

"Move closer," Daphne scooted into him, and Ron wrapped his arms around her.

Daphne returned to her previous activity with renewed vigor, and Ron tightened his hold on her. Just love bites, Ron. Don't do something that she'll regret tomorrow. Daphne cares alot about her image, and that includes her honor as an Heiress of a prominent Family. She's just too drunk, and excited, to care about anything right now, so you should be the responsible one.

---

Sunday 29th November, 1993 (Madam Roberts' Suitcase – Near Midday)

"Keep going, Ronald," Madam Roberts encouraged, and Ron let out a loud roar as he kept pulling the thick block of wood behind him.

The rope dug into his bare hands, and Ron felt his eyes sting terribly. Keep moving! Don't be a bitch! Ron took another step, and then another, and then another… He could feel sweat rolling down his back and front, and his eyes were bulging out of his skull due to the force he was exerting. The pain in his lower back overwhelmed his senses, and he could feel his exhausted lungs hitting his ribcage.

"I… I can't…" Ron grit out, and then he let go of the rope.

Without another word, Ron fell forward into the sand, his blood rushing into his brain. Three hundred and fifty pounds… That's too much. Not to mention that I've used Cutis Terra for well over twenty seconds, which is my limit.

Madam Roberts had decided that she wanted to test out Ron's strength, and she had encouraged the use of the Spell which had helped him overcome the P-Twelve Dummy. Ron knew that she was trying to figure out his limits, but right now, he didn't care. He was in genuine pain, and no matter how much he wanted to impress her, he couldn't go on.

"Three hundred and fifty pounds," Madam Roberts smiled genuinely, her amber eyes gleaming. "That's twenty five stones. This Spell, Ronald… It is unlike anything that I've ever witnessed."

"My… My bones hurt…" Ron groaned, and Madam Roberts lost her excitement immediately.

Within a heartbeat, she was by his side.

"Let me see," she said as she pulled back his left sleeve, and much to her horror, she could see bruises all over the boy's arm. "Your entire body?"

"Probably," Ron grit out, his tired form becoming limp. "I'll just stay here, I reckon…"

"Let's get you fixed up," Madam Roberts drew her wand, and then she began muttering incantations under her breath as she moved her wand over his left arm.

A cool feeling began washing over his arm, and Ron drew in a calming breath as the pain began to subside. I just dragged three hundred and fifty pounds around the sandpit. If I can learn to hold this Spell for longer, I could easily win the Dueling Tournaments at Hogwarts.

"Your Non-Verbal stunners and Disarming Charms aren't too bad," Madam Roberts said, and Ron broke out of his thoughts. "The only issue is that they could easily be dismantled by other people's Spells."

"Dismantled?" Ron asked.

"What is Magic, Ronald?" Madam Roberts asked.

"You told me that it was raw energy," Ron replied.

"Exactly," she gave a nod, her main focus was still on healing him. "Energy cannot be destroyed, but it can be transferred. If the energy of someone else's Spell is greater, then that Spell will 'Dismantle' yours, and become stronger for it as it absorbs the residual energy floating about." Oh…

"I actually read about that a long time ago," Ron remembered the Dark Tome. "You can use Curses to break other people's Spells if you aim them right."

"Not just Curses," Madam Roberts corrected him. "Curses are usually used because they require greater amounts of Magic, or energy, to cast, hence they are ideal for this technique. But, I could easily use a Disarming Charm to dismantle your Curses."

"How?" Ron asked immediately.

"My body is hardened by years of Spell casting experience," Madam Roberts replied. "As the Magic travels from my Magical Core to my wand, none of that Magic is lost on the way. My Spells are, in essence, 'Pure'. Now, a young man like yourself, despite your fitness, isn't as accustomed to casting Spells as I am. That gives me a distinct advantage over you."

"How do I overcome something like experience?" Ron sighed out.

"This Spell of yours… Cutis Terra," Madam Roberts replied, and Ron blinked up at her. "I have a theory that I wish to try out, Ronald."

"I'm listening," Ron said.

"This Spell doesn't just give you enhanced strength," Madam Roberts started. "I think that it makes your muscles denser, and your bones sturdier. On the outside, you can't see much of a difference, but on the inside, I imagine that your anatomy is changed dramatically."

"Whenever I use it, it feels like my muscles are incased in stone," Ron told her, and she smirked a little.

"That all but confirms that this Spell makes your muscles denser," Madam Roberts said. "I believe that with this Spell active, your Spell casting will be much stronger than even mine."

"But only for about twenty seconds…" Ron said slowly, why hadn't he thought of this? Because I'm not a Dueling genius like Madam Roberts. "So having denser muscles is good for Spell casting?"

"The stronger the body, the stronger the Magic," Madam Roberts said. "Why do you think that we wizards are naturally more resilient than the Muggles? Our use of Magic strengthens our bodies, and therefore, we are sturdier and live longer." Madam Roberts then began healing Ron's legs. "Once you have recovered, use Cutis Terra before casting a normal Spell. I want you to explore this Spell, Ronald, because I believe that we have found your Signature Spell."

"Signature Spell?" Ron smiled, he liked the sound of that.

"Signature Spells are Spells that a wizard completely Masters," Madam Roberts told him. "They are the wizard's bread and butter, basically."

"What's your Signature Spell?" Ron asked.

"Maybe one day, I'll show you," Madam Roberts shot him a smirk.

"Very mysterious," Ron snorted. "I look forward to seeing it." My Signature Spell… Once I've recovered, I'll try out her theory. Maybe I'll even be able to cast Wandless Baubillious without cooking myself?

---

Sunday 29th November, 1993 (Prewett Estate – Before Lunch)

He still had time to spare before he had to meet Priscilla, and it was all thanks to Madam Roberts cutting the lesson short. Ron was too exhausted to go on, and she was in a decent enough mood to let him go without calling him out on his weakness.

So instead of waiting about at The Leaky Cauldron, Ron had decided to utilize his free time. His chat with Aunt Muriel was still floating around in the back of his mind ever since their meeting, and Ron had decided to make an ally out of her in person. She was, after all, Family, and therefore, she deserved something more personal than a formal letter.

As Ron stepped out of the fireplace, he found himself standing within the Prewett Estate Greeting Room. Unlike other Pure-Blood homes, the Burrow not counting, Prewett Estate was no mansion of wealth. It was more like a well-furnished, and slightly large, house. The Greeting Room itself only had two fireplaces, but the Ebony wood used for the walls and floor gave the room a regal enough look. I would describe this as more 'cozy' than 'luxurious'.

Ron had only been here once in his life, and that had been years ago. I remember how annoyed Ginny and I were with Aunt Muriel's wealth, and the fact that she never gave any of it to mum and dad. Merlin, we were so stupid back then. Handing mum and dad money wouldn't solve anything, especially because they pride themselves on their lack of wealth.

Ron moved through the Estate, his eyes taking in all the sights. Portraits of various Prewetts hung on the polished wooden walls, and Ron smiled when he saw a portrait of his mother. She was sitting in the middle of her brothers, who were both grinning widely. Uncles Fabian and Gideon… Killed by Antonin Dolohov. Ron stopped in front of the portrait, his eyes scanning their happy faces. Mum never talks about them. Never.

"Pardon me, Sir?" came a shy voice from behind him, and Ron turned around to see a shorter than usual Elf staring up at him. "Is… Is that you, Master Ronald?" Huh?

"Do I know you?" Ron asked the Elf, who was now smiling up at him.

"This one is called Mimsy," the Elf bowed. "Master Ronald does not remember Mimsy?"

"Um… Sorry, I don't," Ron looked the Elf over. She's quite small, even for an Elf. "When did we meet?"

"Master Ronald was very little, then," Mimsy smiled more widely. "Mimsy had to prepare extra food for Master Ronald, Mimsy remembers."

"Oh," Ron nodded slowly, and then he smiled at the Elf. "I'm sure that I didn't thank you back then, so let me do it now. Thank you, Mimsy."

"Think nothing of it, Master Ronald," Mimsy beamed. "Master Ronald is so tall now… Mimsy can hardly believe her eyes. Mistress is right, the Weasley do grow very quickly." Almost as fast as we breed, if I recall correctly.

"Is my Great Aunt here?" Ron asked, and Mimsy nodded fervently.

"Mistress is in her room," Mimsy told Ron. "Mimsy will take Master Ronald to the Living Room, where Mistress may join him."

With that, the Elf grabbed Ron's left hand and began pulling him along. For a moment, Ron was quite surprised that an Elf would put their hands on a wizard so openly, but personally, he didn't really mind. This Elf clearly knew him, even if he didn't remember her, and her excitement at seeing him was a little jarring. I've only been here once, and yet, she remembers me clearly. Odd.

"Mistress will be so pleased," Mimsy shot a smile back at Ron, who cocked an eyebrow. "It has been years since her Family visited her. Mistress will be so pleased!" I rather doubt that.

"Wait… Years?" Ron asked. "Surely my mother would have visited?"

"Only letters at Christmas…" Mimsy said a little sadly, her smile faltering. "Mistress does not get many visitors." I see. "Master Ronald scared Mimsy, truth be told. Mimsy mistook Master Ronald for a burglar."

"Really?" Ron couldn't help but chuckle.

"A thousand apologies, Master Ronald, but it is true," Mimsy admitted. "Mimsy nearly stunned Master Ronald."

"Well, thank you for holding back," Ron said. "And it's alright, your duty is to protect this Estate."

"In here," Mimsy led Ron into the Living Room, which matched the rest of the Estate. Cozy, but also quite regal. Not grand, nor pompous. I like this Estate. If I ever build myself a home, I'll fashion it after this place. "Please, Master Ronald, make yourself at home. Mimsy will fetch Mistress."

Without another word, the Elf cracked out of the room. Ron decided to take a seat near the large fireplace, his eyes fixed on the Prewett Coat-of-Arms, which hung above the fireplace. A snarling, red Lion, shielded by three wands on either side. I wonder what the Weasley Coat-of-Arms is. As time went on, Ron found himself shifting around in his seat. His muscles were aching slightly, and Ron knew it was because he had gone overboard with his 'Signature Spell'. Even though Madam Roberts healed me, I still feel so… drained.

"So Mimsy hasn't lost her mind after all," came Muriel's voice, and Ron stood up to greet her. "A Weasley in my house, and he's here without an invitation." So much for being pleased. She looks quite annoyed with the intrusion.

"I decided that making an alliance with you in person was more fitting," Ron said, and she took a seat opposite to him.

"Sit back down, boy," Muriel waved a dismissive hand. "Save your 'manners' for someone who doesn't know you."

"Trust me, you don't know me," Ron sat back down. "I mean, I haven't seen you for a very long time."

"I know," Muriel sneered a little. "You lot only seem to remember me when you need something. Must be a Weasley trait." Right… She's just going to talk down to me if I let her. Fuck that.

"It was you who left, Aunt Muriel, not us," Ron reminded her. "Sure, the twins were right bastards for that prank, but you chose to leave. Don't play the victim with me, especially when you could have done better."

Muriel blinked at him, but Ron just kept his polite smile in place.

"Perhaps I was mistaken… You are not the idiot boy I remember," Muriel leaned back in her chair. "Mimsy!"

"Mistress called?" the Elf said as soon as she cracked into the room.

"Bring refreshments," Muriel ordered, her eyes looking Ron over.

The Elf bowed deeply, and then she Disapparated.

"So…" Muriel cocked an eyebrow. "What happened to you?"

"What happened to me?" Ron repeated her question. "Nothing… I just grew up."

"I don't believe that," Muriel frowned. "You were the least of your siblings the last time I stepped into that shed that your Family calls a home."

Ron felt his gut twist at her words, but he said nothing. The least of my siblings… She just hit a nerve, and she knows it. Ron went to reply, but Mimsy suddenly appeared with a tray of biscuits and tea.

"Does Master Ronald take sugar?" Mimsy asked excitedly.

"No sugar," Ron replied, and Mimsy poured him a cup of tea with a snap of her fingers.

"We can sort ourselves out," Muriel told the Elf, and Mimsy left after giving Ron a bright smile. I like this Elf, she's quite welcoming. "Forgive my Elf… She is far too familiar with you."

"I don't mind," Ron assured her, and then he took a sip of his tea.

"You take your tea without sugar," Muriel cocked an eyebrow. "I can then assume that you no longer stuff your face with cakes at any given opportunity?" She's just insulting me.

"I limit my sugar intake," Ron replied politely, he had acquired thicker skin over the last two years. "Now… About our alliance-"

"Yes, yes… You will have my backing," Muriel rolled her eyes. "Your mother is a Prewett, so I am honor-bound to help her children, even if she keeps refusing me out of misplaced pride."

"Misplaced pride?"

"Your mother is a foolish girl, and always has been," Muriel frowned once again. Don't punch her in the head, Ron.

"Do not insult my mother," Ron warned, his expression darkening. Treat me like shite all you want, but don't bring my parents into this.

"I am not insulting her, boy," Muriel met his gaze. "I am merely stating a fact. Your mother constantly neglected her duties as a Prewett, and once she tethered herself to your foolish father, she all but turned her back on her actual Family. I personally wasn't surprised, as she had always looked down her nose at the rest of us. In her eyes, we were all arrogant 'bigots' for following the Old Ways." Muriel then smiled a nasty smile. "But Magic has a way of balancing the scales. For her foolishness, Magic gave her a son who clearly values the Old Ways."

"I value merit," Ron said, his tone emotionless. "I can't deny that without the Old Families, Magical Britain wouldn't even exist. But at the same time, I understand that the Old Ways need… polishing."

"Polishing?" Muriel demanded.

"What do you think of Squibs, Aunt Muriel?" Ron asked, and her face twisted in disgust. That's just cruel. "You hate them…"

"They are a badge of shame for each Old Family," Muriel sneered. "Better to be dead than to be a Squib." How can someone be this bitter? These Old Families, they all hate anyone who is different from them. Even dad dislikes Squibs for no clear reason.

"You don't feel any sympathy for them? Not even a little bit?" Ron asked.

"No."

"I can't have that," Ron shook his head. "The Old Ways are exclusive by nature, and although that was necessary when they were first put into practice, the World has come a long way since then. The World is more… connected… now."

"You mean diluted," Muriel stated, and Ron shrugged. I forgot that she doesn't like Muggles, or Muggle-Borns.

"It is what it is," Ron said. "The Old Ways should be respected, but not more than someone's life. I assure you, Squibs are more like us than you think. They breathe air, they enjoy good food, they feel pain as we do, and they are drawn to Magic."

"But Magic is not drawn to them," Muriel interjected. "They are not like us, boy. Magic is the most Sacred power in this World, and it denies the Squibs."

"You're wrong," Ron leaned forward, his cold gaze piercing through Muriel. "Nothing is Sacred…"

"Nothing?" Muriel blinked, she was visibly taken aback.

"There are only consequences, Aunt Muriel," Ron said. "There is no Divinity behind Magic, not as far as I'm concerned. To me, it's just… there. I don't care about where it came from, or why we humans can use it in the first place. I care about people… All people. Why should someone be made to suffer for just being born? Why should a group of suffering people be neglected by their neighbors due to events out of their control?"

"Neglected?" Muriel suddenly smirked. "I see that 'little Ronnie' is still there. The neglected sixth son, who wore old clothes while his siblings dressed properly."

"Little Ronnie accepted the World for what it was," Ron said, his blood boiling for a moment. "I don't."

"So you have a vision for the Future?" Muriel asked. "You alone will revolutionize the Wizarding World?"

"No, I don't have that much time," Ron shook his head. "But I will employ methods used by the Old Families to make a better World."

"And how will you do that?" Aunt Muriel asked, she didn't agree with his words, but his spirit couldn't be denied.

"By culling those I deem to be unworthy of life," Ron stated bluntly, and the room was filled with an unnerving silence. What? Nothing to say to that? No more bile to spew in my direction?

Muriel just stared at Ron, she clearly hadn't expected such a morbid response to her enquiry.

"I'm just joking," Ron suddenly smiled, but Muriel kept staring at him. "Your alliance, and friendship, are greatly appreciated, Auntie." Ron then stood up. "You must come over for Christmas! My mother would love to have you over again!"

"I will not step back into-"

"I insist," Ron took a step forward, his figure looming over her. "We are Family, are we not? You belong with your Family, Auntie, especially in these dark times." Don't force me to make you accept.

"I see," Muriel said, her eyes fixed on his. "I accept."

"Good," Ron's lips twitched upwards, while his eyes remained unmoving. "I am told that people from all backgrounds are coming over to the Burrow for Christmas, so you'll be welcoming, won't you? You won't sneer at the Muggle-Borns? Or avoid my Slytherin friends?"

"Do Molly and Arthur know that their son is a monster?" Muriel asked. A monster?

"Nope," Ron smirked. "Don't ever insult them again. At least, not near me. Have a good day."

With that, Ron left the Living Room. Bitter old bat. She can't go five minutes without insulting someone. But… She is Family, and she isn't as bad as people like Lucius Malfoy. We're natural allies, but that doesn't mean that we have to like each other.

---

Sunday 29th November, 1993 (The Leaky Cauldron – Afternoon)

Ron had rented a room for the afternoon, and then asked Tom the Bartender to send Priscilla up so they could speak in private. She had yet to arrive, and since she was late, Ron found himself pacing the room. He himself didn't know why he was so driven to save Priscilla, or her friends… All he knew was that these children had no one, and when the war began in earnest, they'd be hunted down because of their Squib status.

Maybe he just wanted to deny the Dark Lord the satisfaction, or maybe he was a good person who didn't want to see other children suffer. I don't know anymore. The more time goes on, the more I'm plagued with self-doubt. What is it that I really want? I'm clearly not a good person, even I can tell that much. Good people don't want to cause pain to others, no matter how corrupt those people are. Plus, my own Family dislike me in general, so I'm clearly doing something wrong. Ugh… I miss when life was simple.

The door suddenly creaked open, and Ron turned to face it with perfect posture. Much to his relief, Priscilla slowly stepped into the room, followed by a boy who was around his age. Except he's quite short, and skinny. He looks malnourished, even.

"Priscilla, I was getting worried," Ron smiled genuinely, and she managed a weak smile in return.

"I wasn't sure if I should come," Priscilla admitted as she stepped further into the room, her friend sticking close to her heels. He's frowning at me.

"So this is him?" the boy looked Ron over. "He doesn't look any different from us." What? You think I'm not human?

"Tiberius, don't," Priscilla shushed him, which only seemed to anger the boy. "Sorry about him, Ronald, he isn't so sure about all of this. Actually… Neither am I."

"I understand," Ron nodded. "I'm a stranger, and you have no way of knowing if my intentions are pure."

"Exactly," Tiberius said as he looked to Priscilla. "Look at his clothes, sis… His shoes probably cost more than what you made in a month."

"Enough, Tiberius," Priscilla frowned at him, and he closed his mouth. "You're being unreasonable… And cruel."

"I… Sorry," Tiberius looked down at his feet, while Ron just watched them quietly.

"So…" Priscilla looked to Ron, and he honestly couldn't read her expression. "What have you come up with?"

"I spoke with Albus Dumbledore, and he has agreed to work with me," Ron said right out of the gate, and judging by their slack-jawed expressions, Ron had made the right call. "He has already found a location for you all to settle on, and with his help, you'll be well looked after."

"Albus Dumbledore wants to help us?" Tiberius muttered. "The Albus Dumbledore?"

"Yes," Ron smiled at him.

"Why?" Tiberius asked right afterwards, his genuine confusion jarred Ron a little. "We're just Squibs… Doesn't he have better things to do?"

"You're human beings," Ron replied. "The Headmaster is a good man, and as soon as I approached him about all of this, he promised to help me. One day, you'll no doubt meet him in person, and he'll do a better job at explaining his intentions than I can."

"We'll meet him?" Priscilla blinked.

"If you want to," Ron replied. "Tonight, he'll be showing me the house where you will all be staying."

"A house?" Priscilla asked slowly, she genuinely didn't know what to say, or think.

"I figured that you all wanted to stay together," Ron looked between Priscilla and Tiberius, both of whom nodded dumbly. "I was thinking that you would all stay together in a massive house, which would have all the protections that you could ask for. I was also thinking of hiring a House-Elf to look after you all."

"A servant? For us?" Tiberius' mouth hung open.

"A caretaker," Ron corrected. "The Elf would cook your meals, teach the young ones how to read and write, and keep the house in an orderly fashion. Furthermore, I'm thinking of opening a Gringotts Vault in your name, Priscilla. I'll put some money in it, and since your new home has a fireplace, you can floo to Gringotts if you ever need to make a withdrawal."

"Just… Slow down… Please," Priscilla said, and Ron stopped talking. "Tiberius… Can you go outside for a minute?" What's wrong?

"What? I can't leave you in here with him," Tiberius broke out of his stupor.

"I can take care of myself," Priscilla told him, and after staring at her for a few moments, Tiberius relented.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked as soon as Tiberius shut the door behind himself.

"Why are you doing this?" Priscilla asked, she sounded almost suspicious. "I want a genuine answer this time. What do you get out of this?"

"I already told you," Ron shrugged. "I get to go to sleep knowing that I did some good."

"And that's enough for you?" Priscilla asked with narrowed eyes. "You won't ask me to sleep with you once I'm in your debt?"

"Pardon?" Ron blinked, he hadn't seen that coming. "I have a girlfriend!"

This time, it was Priscilla who was taken aback by Ron's genuinely childish claim.

"I'd never do that, I swear," Ron went on. "That's not me at all! I love my girlfriend!"

"Alright… Sorry," Priscilla raised her hands in surrender. "I wasn't trying to…" Priscilla rubbed her arm awkwardly. "Sorry." What a weird thing to accuse me of…

"Look, I'm just trying to help you," Ron drew in a deep breath. "I get that you're wary of strangers, I am too, but I'm being honest with you. I don't plan to exploit any of you, and if you want, I'll never visit or intrude in your lives."

"But you'll still send us money?" Priscilla asked slowly, what was wrong with this kid?

"I'll give you the Vault Key for withdrawals, and make monthly payments to it myself," Ron promised.

"Don't you need money too?" Priscilla asked. "I know that you're famous, but Victor told me that your Family is really poor… That's why I just can't believe this… It feels too good to be true."

"The bulk of the money is coming from the Headmaster," Ron told her, and she nodded slowly. "The property is in his name, and he will make sure to renovate it for you guys. As for the money that I'm providing, it'll come from my two jobs. I'm a student at Hogwarts, so I don't have daily living expenses. The Vault that I'll open in your name will have one hundred Galleons inside it at all times."

"One hundred?!" Priscilla gawked.

"There's a lot of you, right?" Ron asked, and she nodded slowly. "You'll need new clothes, toys, food, personal items for hygiene, and a lot of other things. That's what that money will be for. I'm not offering you a life of luxury, but I promise that you'll want for nothing essential. You'll be safe, and you'll have another chance at life. Now you might not trust me, but you know that you can trust Albus Dumbledore."

"Albus Dumbledore himself is trying to help us…" Priscilla muttered under her breadth, she had a look of utter disbelief on her face. "And you managed to convince him?"

"Like I said, he agreed instantly," Ron couldn't help but feel proud of his Headmaster. "That's just the sort of person he is."

"This house that you have planned… How long will it take to finish?" Priscilla asked, doing her best to not sound ungrateful.

"You'll be living there before Christmas," Ron promised.

"That soon?" she gasped.

"The Headmaster and I are treating this as our priority," Ron assured her. "We won't let you down, I swear it. Now… I need to ask you some questions."

"Questions?" Priscilla asked, and Ron gave her a nod.

---

Daphne Greengrass' POV

Sunday 29th November, 1993 (The Girls' Room – Afternoon)

As soon as Tracey entered the room, Daphne closed and locked the door.

"Uh oh," Tracey pulled a face, while Daphne began pacing. "So you really are panicking about something? Well, what is it?" I can't hold it in anymore, I'll go crazy!

"It's about me and Ron," Daphne replied quickly, she was reaching her wits end. "I think we took things too far last night…"

"Too far?" Tracey asked, Daphne's tone had knocked the wind out of her sails.

"I woke up in bed this morning…" Daphne felt her eyes sting. "And… And my dress was gone…"

"Oh…" Tracey went wide-eyed, and Daphne once again felt the need to hit herself. What did we do?! I can't remember anything!

"Tracey, I remember him taking his shirt off, but nothing after that…" Daphne went on, her pacing becoming quicker. "He didn't want to, but I urged him to."

"Urged?"

"I was drunk!" Daphne defended herself, and Tracey raised her hands in surrender.

"Calm down, and let's just talk this through," Tracey walked up and stopped Daphne from pacing. "C'mon, sit with me."

Daphne let Tracey pull her down onto her bed, and she felt a little better when Tracey put her arm around her. I can't tell the others… What will they think of me?

"Alright, start from the beginning," Tracey said gently, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"We got drunk… All of us, that is," Daphne sniffled. "After that, it's all a blur. I asked him to join me in Sanctuary, but when he finally showed up, he wanted to sleep on the couch."

"Why?" Tracey asked.

"I think he was uncomfortable with us doing sexual things when we were drunk…" Daphne said shamefully. "But I kept badgering him…"

"Daph…" Tracey sighed out, and Daphne felt twice as miserable.

"I don't know what I was thinking," Daphne cleaned her runny nose with her sleeve. "I think we did something really… immoral…"

"You were completely naked this morning?" Tracey asked with a serious expression.

"No… I had my panties on," Daphne hiccupped. "But I had love bites on my neck and shoulders."

"So you didn't have sex, at least," Tracey relaxed a little, some of Daphne's panic had washed over her. "Maybe you two just did hand stuff?"

"Hand stuff? You think I helped him ejaculate?" Daphne asked, and Tracey grimaced at her last word. We passed a milestone, and I don't even remember it?

"I don't want to pry, but have you two done that before?" Tracey asked slowly.

"No!" Daphne denied immediately. "We kiss, and he's touched my chest once… But that's it."

"You really can't remember anything?" Tracey asked.

"I remember him taking his shirt off, but even that's hazy," Daphne finished with another hiccup. "I'm losing my mind here, Trace… What if we crossed a line? He was definitely reluctant, but I kept persisting. I kept justifying things to myself, and I couldn't behave."

"I think you should talk to Ron about this," Tracey suggested. "He might remember what happened."

"I just feel really…" Daphne hiccupped. "Foolish…"

"If it was just hand stuff, does that really bother you?" Tracey asked gently, and Daphne blinked at her. "I mean, people our age tend to do worse. You've heard the rumors, right?"

"I've thought about it, of course, and although I'd like to try, I'd also like to remember it," Daphne said rather quickly. "But I woke up naked, and I don't remember a thing… I've shamed myself…"

"No… No, you haven't," Tracey gave Daphne a squeeze. "Just talk-"

"There was a knock on the door, and both girls went dead silent. Pansy? Or Millie?

"Daph, you in there?" came Ron's excited voice. He's back?! "I was thinking that we'd go for a walk by the Lake? Do you have some time to spare?"

"Talk to him," Tracey whispered, and then she stood up and walked over to the door.

As soon as she pulled it open, Ron stepped in with a happy smile on his face. Why is he so happy? We must've done something really sexual, I just know it…

"Hello," Ron greeted in his usual, cute monotone way. "Daph, there you…" he trailed off when he saw her. "What's wrong, Daphne? Why are you crying?"

"Can we talk, Ron?" Daphne sniffled, and he nodded slowly.

Tracey slipped out of the room, and Ron quickly shut it behind him.

"What's wrong? Did someone do something to make you cry?" Ron walked up and crouched in front of her, his expression stern.

"No, Ron…" Daphne replied. "About last night-"

"Oh…" Ron muttered, a slightly guilty look crossing his features. He remembers? "Daph, I'm really sorry for losing my temper like that… I honestly didn't try to be so loud, but I just panicked…" Panicked?

"What?" Daphne blinked repeatedly, and Ron just stared at her. "Ron, I don't remember anything from last night… That's why I'm crying…"

"So you don't remember our argument?" Ron asked slowly.

"We argued?" Daphne asked, and for some reason, she felt relieved to hear that. But why did I wake up naked, and covered in love-bites?

"Kind off," Ron sighed, and then he reached forward and took her hands into his. "Do you remember us snogging in the bed?"

"No," Daphne replied.

"Well, we were snogging, and we gave each other some love bites," Ron started. "And then… Um… You sort of asked me to take off my trousers…"

"I did?" Daphne paled. Daphne, you damn slag. You've shamed yourself, haven't you?

"You said that I was poking your stomach, and that you wanted to see it," Ron flushed a little. "You wanted to… you know…"

"Ron, just speak plainly," Daphne said impatiently, and he pulled an awkward expression. "I'm about to cut off my hair, and then run away in shame! Just tell me what happened!"

"You wanted to help me 'release some stress'," Ron said quickly, and Daphne felt her head spin. "I refused, and you got upset. Really upset."

"What?" Daphne asked. "So we never…"

"No," Ron shook his head, and a relieved laugh tore its way out of her throat.

"Wait… Why was I naked, then?" Daphne stopped laughing.

"After I refused, you started thinking that I was just being shy," Ron told her. "I told you that you'd regret it later, and that you were only going so far because you were drunk. You took that as a challenge, and offered to take off your dress." Wow… "That's when I yelled out… You were about to undress right then and there, and I couldn't let that happen. I jumped out of the bed, you weren't too pleased with me yelling at you, and I ended up sleeping on the couch."

"So you didn't see anything?" Daphne asked, she was never drinking in excess again.

"No, I swear it," Ron gave her a weak smile. "You probably took off your dress after I was gone, and I left without disturbing you this morning." Ron then smiled more fully. "No harm was done."

"Not for lack of trying on my part," Daphne felt a strong pang of guilt and shame. "I'm sorry, Ron…"

"We shouldn't drink that much again," Ron shrugged. "It's alright, Daph, I'm not upset with you. I'm just glad that I made the right call."

"You knew I'd be like this in the morning?" Daphne sniffled, and Ron nodded slowly.

"I knew that you'd regret it," Ron replied.

"How?"

"I know that you enjoy mischief from time to time, but you're not careless," Ron replied. "It's why our relationship hasn't gone past snogging, which is fine by me, of course. What I'm trying to say is that you care about your honor as a Lady."

"Thanks…" Daphne squeezed his hands. "I'm just really relieved that one of us was thinking last night."

"This is a new thing, isn't it?" Ron suddenly grinned. He's trying to cheer me up. "So… You're not panicking anymore?"

"No…" Daphne sighed out a breath of relief. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable last night."

"It's alright, I had fun," Ron assured her. "I felt a bit guilty for yelling at you, though."

"Come here," Daphne managed to smile, and Ron's eyes gleamed as he pounced her.

"Mine!" Ron hissed childishly.

"Not so-" Daphne started, but she quickly found herself pinned to the bed, while Ron clung to her neck. "I think… you just winded me…"

"Please stop crying," Ron kissed her left cheek, and then he nuzzled his face into her neck. He's so heavy, but it feels nice.

"I'll stop," Daphne promised, her arms wrapping around his neck. He saw nothing, and I believe him. "Thank you, Ron."

"Don't worry about it," Ron spoke into her neck. "How was your morning?" He wants to change the subject?

"It was terrible," Daphne replied, she was starting to calm back down. "I have been stressing from the moment I woke up, and I couldn't tell anyone. Eventually, I caved in and spoke with Tracey. That's when you came in…" Never again, Daphne Greengrass. "How was your morning?"

"Painful," Ron smiled against her skin. "Madam Roberts pushed me hard today, Daph, but I pulled through." Good.

"Was she pleased?" Daphne ran her fingers through his hair.

"She didn't yell at me, so I think so," Ron chuckled. His breath tickles! "Did anything happen at school today?"

"People have been talking about you all day," Daphne told him. "We were on the front page of the Daily Prophet."

"Ohhh, were we?" Ron sniggered. "Which picture did they use?"

"It was a picture of you and me dancing together," Daphne smiled to herself. "I really like it because we were both laughing. Anyway… The whole school knows about the French, and about your new position within the Ministry. I'd expect some bootlickers if I were you."

"Slytherins trying to scum off of me?" Ron asked, and Daphne nodded before kissing the top of his head.

"And anyone with ambitions for the Ministry will try to cozy up to you as well," Daphne told him.

"Well, they can fuck right off," Ron laughed. "I don't need that sort of headache in my life."

"Do you still want to go for that walk?" Daphne asked, and Ron pulled his head back and stared at her.

"You sure?" Ron asked, and she gave him a nod.

"I'll go wash up," Daphne said. "And thanks for being you." I don't think many boys would've said no to my drunk offer.

"Whatever that means," Ron snorted, and then he fell to the side. "Go on… I'll just rest on this bed."

Daphne sat up, her right hand rubbing Ron's back.

"I love you," Daphne said instinctively.

"I love you too," Ron responded, his limbs stretching as if he were a giant cat.

Daphne stood up, and then she walked over to the bathroom. Just as she was about to enter, a thought occurred to her. I've thought about it before… I mean, hand stuff isn't like sex. Would he be willing? No, not yet. I'll ask him later… Near Christmas, I think. And I won't be drunk this time.

---

Emilia Travers' POV

Sunday 29th November, 1993 (Twelve Grimmauld Place – Afternoon)

As Emilia stepped into the Order's Headquarters, she wondered if she would see Ronald Weasley here.

In all of her years, never had she felt such profound fear as when that boy spoke in his 'true' voice. She had spent the entire night hearing that voice, and even in her dreams it haunted her. Emilia was afraid. For the first time in her life, she was truly afraid. How can such a Being even exist? What is he? And why does no one know about this? He claimed that Albus Dumbledore knew, but I just can't believe him. Should I call him an 'It'?

"Emilia Travers," Dumbledore called as she stepped into the enlarged Kitchen.

Emilia looked around the room, and she realized that she was late. I couldn't sleep last night. Not properly, at least. Even my meditations didn't help.

"Good of you to join us," Dumbledore smiled at her. "Please, take a seat, and we shall get started."

"Forgive my tardiness," Emilia gave a respectful bow, and then she found herself an unoccupied chair.

The other French Families were all here, and most of them were wary of her. This was hardly surprising, mostly because they all knew about her bloody campaign against her Great-Aunt. I wonder if they know that a Demon has brought us all here to do his bidding.

"Now that everyone is here, let me start by thanking you," Dumbledore stood up, behind him were two wizards. Sturgis Podmore, and Sirius Orion Black. Both men are veterans from the last war. I would do well to learn from their experiences. "As you all have been told by Madame Maxime, the Dark Lord has indeed returned to power."

"Merde," Lady Ancar looked down at the table, while the other French Families began whispering.

"Why have you not alerted your Ministry?" Lady Bisset demanded. "Why call us before your own?"

"Because this is our fight," Madame Maxime said from her chair. "The British Ministry made a mess of the last war when they let so many Death-Eaters go free. The Ministries are compromised, and so they cannot be trusted."

"And telling them would only cause hysteria," Dumbledore took over. "I plan to alert certain people when the time is right, but for now, we must begin preparations."

"Do you know where he is?" Lord Couture asked. "Is he in Magical Britain?"

"He was stationed at Malfoy Manor for a time, but since we flushed him out, he's gone back into hiding," Dumbledore replied. Flushed him out?

"You laid siege to Malfoy Manor?" Emilia asked. "If so, then why was Lucius Malfoy at the Gala last night?" Why isn't he dead?

"He escaped," Sirius Black replied.

Emilia wasn't really bothered by that, it simply meant that she'd get the chance to behead Lucius Malfoy herself.

"Lord Voldemort was grievously injured in our battle," Dumbledore said, and even Emilia flinched at the Dark Lord's name. "For now, I believe that he has been removed from the board."

"Removed from the board?" Lady Abadie scoffed. "This is the Dark One that we speak of… He is not an ordinary man. I thought that you of all people would not underestimate him." She's incredibly vain, but she makes a good point. If even half of the tales that I've heard are true, then we need to press our advantage.

"I assure you, Lady Abadie, that the Dark Lord is only a man," Dumbledore smiled at her. "But you are also right, he is not to be underestimated. For now, we don't know where he is for certain, so attempting to locate him is a waste of precious time. The Order has decided that now is the time for preparation. We must secure safe-houses all over Europe, and call on our trusted allies for aid. The Dark Lord will approach the Dark Creatures, and once again, unleash their wrath upon the World. We must get to them first."

"You want us to secure alliances with Werewolves?" Lady Beaumont asked in disgust. What's the issue? You're all Half-Breeds, aren't you? "With Vampires, and Banshees? No… It is not right."

"If we can get even one hundred Dark Creatures to rally to our side, that's one hundred less foot-soldiers for the Dark Lord," Sturgis Podmore said. "They will be involved in this war, so is it not wise to have them defend our flanks rather than defend our enemy's?"

"This young man is right," Madame Maxime said, her eyes fixed on Lady Beaumont. "And do not forget that you yourself are part of a despised minority, Lady Beaumont. Passing judgement without proof does not become you."

"Against this enemy, we cannot afford to alienate potential allies," Dumbledore told them all, and everyone went silent because of his firm tone. "He will exploit any weakness that he can find. He will target the vulnerable without fail. And he will do this without ever revealing himself. Our enemy does not rest, nor does he show any mercy to those who defy him. We can take no chances."

"What of the French Ministry?" Lord Heroux asked. "Surely they are not compromised." They are as corrupt as you are naïve.

"If you go to them, Lord Heroux," Emilia spoke up. "You will be in chains by the end of the day. They will call you a liar, and a warmonger. You will be accused of inciting mass panic, and spreading false news about a horror from the past."

"But what if-"

"Do not assume that your 'friends' within the French Ministry will stand by you," Emilia told him bluntly. "They will betray you for their careers, while the rest of us will all lose a valuable ally. For now, do as Albus Dumbledore commands. He is the only man who can withstand the Dark Lord, and therefore, he is to be heeded."

"She is right," Monsieur Delacour said. "If our involvement becomes public knowledge, we will all be charged with treason at the least. Not to mention that Headmaster Dumbledore and Headmistress Maxime will be imprisoned for conspiracy. We must all practice caution, and secrecy."

"What do you need from us, Headmaster?" Emilia asked. "We have all already agreed to join your camp, so I find this meeting to be a waste of everyone's time. We should devise a plan, and then be on our ways."

"I find myself agreeing with Lady Travers," Madame Maxime said. "We can do introductions at a later date. Right now, we need to know how we can help the Order." Finally, things are moving along.

"The larger Veela Community has to be approached," Dumbledore began. "Members of the Order are already seeking out Werewolves, Vampires, Banshees, and I even have plans for the Giants. Our main priority right now is to fill our ranks, but to do so in secret. Offer those who need shelter our safe-houses, and only after our pieces are assembled, should we begin seeking out the Dark Lord."

"A wonderful plan," Lady Abadie stood up, much to everyone's surprise. What is she doing? "We must, of course, have an army to fight our battles. But… I have a question."

"Go on," Dumbledore smiled at her.

"Who are the generals of this army?" Lady Abadie asked, and everyone exchanged looks. No… Not this. We haven't even started, and this whore wants to start securing power for herself. Filthy Half-Breed. "What is the chain of command?"

"The Headmaster is the chain of command," Sirius Black said, a slightly annoyed look on his face. He understands, doesn't he? He can see her for the greedy woman that she is.

"I understand that, Lord Black," Lady Abadie chuckled. "But an army as large as this one cannot be controlled by just one man." She has a point. "Who will the Veela listen to? Who will the Vampires follow? Who will the Banshees-"

"Get to your point," Madam Delacour said. "You want the Veela Community to answer to you, is that it?"

"I am the most logical choice," Lady Abadie told them.

"And by what right?" Lady Beaumont demanded. "I am as much Veela as you."

"My Family predates yours," Lady Abadie countered.

"The Lenoir Family is arguably the Oldest in France," Lord Bisset spoke up. "Shouldn't they lead the Veela, then?"

"Their Blood has been watered down for generations," Lady Ancar shook her head.

"Watered down?" Lady Lenoir frowned deeply. Enough.

"Those who cry out for power are the least deserving of it," Emilia spoke up, and Lady Abadie sneered in her direction.

"That's very poetic, dear, but the adults are talking," Lady Abadie said.

"Just as you are entitled to give your opinion, so is she," Dumbledore said. "We are all friends here."

"No, we're not," Emilia stood up, she had had enough. They will all start fighting for power soon enough. Such greed… "We are all here because we have a common enemy, nothing more. I have contacts in the darker corners of the Magical World, Headmaster. I will begin securing information for us."

"Thank you," Dumbledore said, his twinkling eyes looking directly into hers.

Emilia turned around, and began to head for the Living Room.

"Where are you going?" Madame Maxime called out. "The meeting is not finished."

"It finished the moment you all started dividing power that we don't even have yet," Emilia said without looking back.

As she entered the Living Room, she heard footsteps approaching from behind her.

"Wait, Lady Travers," Sturgis Podmore stopped right behind her. "If you are going somewhere dangerous, then you need someone to back you."

"Do I?" Emilia stopped at the fireplace. "Believe me, Mr. Podmore, the man I intend to see will kill anyone, but me, on sight. If you come with me, then you will put me in danger."

"Are you sure?" Sturgis Podmore asked, and she didn't bother to reply.

Instead, she grabbed a pinch of floo-powder, and cast it into the fire.

"The Leaky Cauldron," Emilia called, and when the fire blazed green, she stepped through it. First, I'll send a letter to Ronald Weasley, and accept his offer. Then, I'll pack my things, and head off to Brussels. It's past-time that I found Solomon again.

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Sunday 29th November, 1993 (The Great Hall – Nearly End of Dinner)

He was definitely the main topic of gossip today.

All day, Ron had endured strange looks, rumors, and unnecessary politeness. The Slytherins were all being extremely friendly with him, often patting his back and congratulating him. His first years were being smug, and talking him up to everyone. His classmates were clearly interested in asking him questions, but none of them approached him. Ambitious individuals were staring at him like he was a tasty morsel, or at least, their ticket into the Ministry. And as for his friends, the girls seemed to be genuinely happy for him. But the lads… There's this tension between us, and even the girls can feel it.

"Granger is eyeballing you again," Malfoy whispered, and Ron broke out of his thoughts.

"Sorry, Malfoy… What was that?" Ron whispered back. He just talked to me? Good. Is he finally coming back into the fold?

"Granger," Malfoy whispered. "She's staring at you."

Ron looked in her direction, and she quickly pretended to be looking away from him. She's being weird. Well, weirder than usual.

"Ignore it," Ron shot Malfoy a genuine smile. "How was your night?" Include him, Ron. He's been looking miserable lately.

"What?" Malfoy blinked.

"How was your night? With Tracey?" Ron asked, trying his best to sound friendly.

"Do you really want to know what my night was like?" Malfoy whispered, his eyebrow cocked.

"You don't have to tell me, I was just trying to talk to you…" Ron sighed out, he was actually a little disappointed. He's been avoiding me, and whenever I try to include him, he steps further away. He's just making himself more miserable, and I can't stand that, especially with what he's going through.

Malfoy stared at Ron's face for a few seconds, and then he looked back forward.

"It was actually quite… nice…" Malfoy whispered, and Ron's ears perked up.

"Nice?" Ron whispered back.

"She and I talked, and we… came to an understanding…" Malfoy whispered. Really? Is he serious?

Ron shot a look towards Tracey, who was making Pansy and Millie laugh themselves silly. Did they bury the hatchet? If so, then I should thank her for it.

"I'm glad to hear it," Ron patted Malfoy's back, a wide smile on his face. If he can make peace with her, then maybe he's finally coming around.

"You are very handsy, Weasley," Malfoy frowned at him.

"Handsy?" Ron asked, still smiling.

"You pat, hug, and make a lot of physical contact," Malfoy replied. "It's weird."

"You don't like it?" Ron chuckled. "Everyone else loves it."

Ron then looked to Theo, who was talking to Daphne and Blaise.

"Theo, do you love my hugs?" Ron asked, and Theo broke from his conversation and stared at him.

"Yes," Theo admitted after a couple of seconds, and Ron looked back to Malfoy.

"I don't like it," Malfoy gave Ron a bored look.

"Your loss," Ron sighed dramatically. "One day, Malfoy, you'll miss my gentle caresses." Hehe.

"There is something wrong in your head, Weasley," Malfoy shook his head, and Ron couldn't help but laugh at how true those words were. Right on the mark, Malfoy. "Is there something funny about what I just said?"

"You have no idea," Ron finished laughing. "By the way, have you started that Herbology report that we have to put together?"

"I thought you were going to start it," Malfoy blinked at him, and Ron closed his eyes. Oh, fuck. "Weasley…"

"You start it tonight," Ron said, and Mafloy frowned again.

"Why me?" Malfoy demanded.

"I have plans tonight," Ron said.

"With Greengrass?" Malfoy narrowed his eyes.

"With the Headmaster," Ron corrected. "I promised him a game of Chess, and I have to deliver. It would look quite bad if I skipped out on a man of his status."

"So I have to do the hardest part of the report because you want to kiss arse?" Malfoy drawled.

"I'll pay you back," Ron grinned.

"Really?"

"No," Ron refused. "But I will be grateful."

"Fine…" Malfoy rolled his eyes, he had had enough of Ron for tonight. "Whatever…"

"Thanks, handsome," Ron patted Malfoy's back, a massive grin on his face.

"You…" Malfoy started with a scowl, but the school-bell cut him off. Too late, Malfoy, the bell has set me free.

They all got out of their seats, and then began making their way out. Ron quickly approached Daphne's side in order to take her hand, and she shot him a happy smile for a moment. Her hands are pretty small, but maybe it's because my hands are too big? She's so cute. Daphne continued speaking to Blaise and Theo about some Heir business, and Ron found himself getting distracted. Emilia didn't send me an Owl today. Has she decided to refuse my offer? I'll wait one more day, and then I'll find her. Oh, and I need to find out what Gornuk's Elf found out.

"Ron, wait up," came Neville's voice, and Ron shot a look back. "Can we talk to you?"

Behind Neville were Hermione and Harry, both of whom were giving weak smiles. They look like they're here to congratulate me. Turning them away wouldn't be right.

"Um… Sure," Ron smiled at Neville, and then he let go of Daphne's hand. "I'll see you guys in a bit."

"If you're sure," Millie said slowly, and Ron gave her a nod.

One by one, Ron's friends all left, while Ron himself followed the Trio out into the Courtyard. Merlin's shriveled balls, it's so cold out here! All four students were quickly shivering, and Ron felt particularly sorry for Hermione. She's not exactly built for the tundra.

"Someone cast a damn Warming Charm," Ron rubbed his arms, his sweater was useless against this cold.

Hermione nodded, and then she drew out her wand and cast the Warming Charm on them all. Ron felt heat emanate out of his chest, and his entire body basked in it. Oh, that feels so damn nice.

"Alright," Ron breathed in deeply. "What is it, Neville?"

"Well, Hermione and Harry wanted to congratulate you," Neville looked to them, and so did Ron.

"Yeah, Ron," Harry spoke first. "Congratulations on your new job. I'm not sure what you'll be doing exactly, but it sounds rather important."

"Thank you, Harry," Ron said, and then he looked to Hermione.

"Congratulations," Hermione said, her lips twitching upwards for a moment. That look a little forced. "Can I ask a question about your new job at the Ministry?"

"Hermione…" Neville muttered under his breath, while Harry suddenly looked very distant.

"Go ahead," Ron said, and Hermione drew in a deep breath. First she kept staring at me, and now she looks… dissatisfied.

"Was your age not considered for this position?" Hermione asked, and Ron blinked at her.

"Pardon?"

"You're only thirteen, and there are no thirteen year old Diplomats," Hermione clarified. "At least, not in the Muggle World."

"I'm not a Diplomat to the Muggles, though," Ron said.

"What I'm saying is that International Diplomats should be older," Hermione told him, a thoughtful look on her face. I know that look, she's about to bombard me with her opinions. "You know, more experienced. It sounds like a really important job, and you have no training for it." She is right, I haven't had any training for this important job.

"Circumstances have to be considered," Ron shrugged. "I am friends with Madame Maxime of Beauxbatons, and with her help, I was able to bring the French Families here. No other Diplomat has that connection."

"So you got the job because of your friendship with her?" Hermione asked.

"In a way, yes," Ron replied. "A lot of the times, it's about who you know instead of what you know. My actions helped bring in thousands of Galleons into the Ministry's depleted coffers, and so I… urged… them to give me a position."

"Urged?" Hermione asked.

"You threatened to keep the French away from the Gala?" Neville asked, and Ron shrugged once again. Why should I lie? It's what I did.

"In Wizarding Society, merit has always been rewarded," Ron said. "Unlike Muggles, even we Wizarding children can hold a lot of power, and it's because unlike Muggles, our power comes from Magic. Anyone can be powerful amongst us, and therefore, merit is rewarded regardless of age."

"Hence why there are no thirteen year old Muggle Diplomats," Hermione nodded slowly, she dearly missed their debates. "Well… Congratulations again."

"Thank you," Ron said, and both Harry and Hermione began to head inside.

"Can I talk to you really quickly?" Neville asked him, and the other two Gryffindors stopped.

"Nev?" Harry asked, a curious look on his face.

"Just a private chat," Neville smiled at his best friends. "I won't be long, I promise." What does he want?

Harry and Hermione exchanged looks, and then they gave Neville slow nods before heading inside. The Warming Charm is starting to become weaker. Ugh… I don't want to pull my wand out in this cold.

"What do you need, Neville?" Ron asked.

"I was thinking about last night…" Neville started, and Ron nodded slowly. We had a great time. "I think that it's a real shame that Harry and Hermione weren't there."

"Really?" Ron asked, his curiosity was piqued.

"If they saw your friends last night, like I saw them, they'd change their opinions about them," Neville said. "I personally didn't want to be there at first, but once we had a few sips, I had a great time."

"Right," Ron said, where was Neville going with this? He wants me to invite Harry and Hermione out to drink with us? I don't think any of us plan to get drunk again soon.

"You should invite them back into the study group," Neville suggested, and Ron blinked at him. "Look, they made a terrible mistake, and they're both really sorry about it. They have tried to make it up to you, but you just rebuff them. Things won't get better like this… We could all be friends again, Ron."

"This is just like last year," Ron said, trying his best to be civil. Neville doesn't deserve to receive my anger.

"No, it's not," Neville said. "Last year, I was the reason why they started investigating you last year. I told you, remember? I was… jealous… and I ruined everything."

"And this time it was Harry," Ron said. "Next year, Hermione will have a go at me."

"Please, mate," Neville sighed out, and then he gave Ron a somber look. "We could all be friends again. I'll even promise you that I'll make more of an effort to get Harry to change his views."

"Just Harry?"

"Hermione is… complicated," Neville said slowly. "She believes in fairness, and equality for all… Even the Slytherins. It's just that she doesn't like your friends very much."

"So she's not hateful to Slytherin, but just my friends?" Ron gave Neville a deadpan look. "Is that supposed to be comforting?"

"I'll work on her too, then," Neville promised quickly. "Just… All you have to do is let them back into the study group. Just a gesture of forgiveness, Ron, and we can all be friends again." He's being very persistent.

Ron drew in a deep breath, and he felt a wall fortifying the inside of his forehead. Think, Ron. If I do as Neville says, things will become less tense. Christmas would be saved, and I can start being close to Harry again. He's the key to everything, if Dumbledore is to be believed, so I need to protect him. I can't do that if we're fighting. What's more important? The mission, or justice?

"You… You can tell them to come back…" Ron said begrudgingly, and Neville released a held breath.

"Really?"

"Yes, Neville," Ron said a little coldly. Think of what's important, Ron. The mission is important, not you. "Tell them to come back, but also tell them that I won't let things go again. Tell them that I never want to discuss my… condition… with them. With any of you."

"That's fair," Neville couldn't help but smile. "I'll tell them! Thanks, Ron, you won't regret this!"

Before Ron could say anything, Neville turned around and ran off to find his best friends. He left before I could change my mind… Clever. Ron looked up at the snowy sky, and he drew in another deep breath. It's the strategic thing to do, Ron, so just make your peace with it. The sound of crows suddenly filled his ears, and Ron realized that he was suddenly being circled overhead by a murder of crows. I'm seeing things again? Must be Sunday. Ron slowly looked back down, and much to his surprise, he found himself surrounded by bloody corpses.

"Merlin…" Ron muttered, his eyes moving around him. They're students… And that… That's McGonagall… Oh, fuck… Her right side is mostly missing.

The crows became louder just as Ron gagged a little, and when he looked overhead, he saw the crows break for the distance. With terrifyingly loud screams, which were being carried by the four winds, the crows departed Hogwarts. He killed them, didn't he? He killed everyone in this castle… Ron didn't know how, but he was certain of his Ravenclaw counterpart's crimes.

Ron slowly looked back down, and much to his relief, he was alone in the Courtyard once again. Fuck me, I'm going insane.

---

Ten Minutes Later

"Welcome, Ronald," Dumbledore smiled as Ron closed the door.

"Headmaster," Ron smiled back, he had already placed his latest vision in the back of his mind. I learnt nothing from it, so what's the point of thinking about it? "Are you ready to show me this property?"

"Of course," Dumbledore stood up, and then he walked down to meet Ron. "Fawkes recently went through a rebirth, so he cannot accompany us."

Ron shot a look towards the baby Phoenix, who was eyeing him and Dumbledore with keen interest. He's so damn cute! His feathers are growing, so he doesn't look like a naked ball-sack. Fawkes let out a weak shrill, his little wings flapping in excitement.

"Next time, Fawkes," Ron waved at him, while Dumbledore prepared the floo. "So, Headmaster… Where is this property?"

"Godric's Hollow," Dumbledore replied, and Ron nodded slowly.

"Wait… Isn't that where Harry's parents died?" Ron asked. Don't tell me it's their house that we're going to.

"It is, indeed," Dumbledore replied, and then he tossed the floo-power into the flames. "Dumbledore Residence."

The fire blazed to life, and Dumbledore went through it without another word. Dumbledore residence? He's giving up his own home? Ron followed the Headmaster through the fire, and he found himself standing within a ruin of a house. What the…? The wooden walls were rotting, the wallpaper was scarce, the wooden floor was missing large chunks, and some of the foliage from outside had found its way into the ruin.

"Headmaster… Get a maid…" Ron eyed the old man, who chuckled rather weakly. "Seriously, though… Where are we?"

"This is my childhood home," Dumbledore looked around, his expression turning somber as it saw the state of things. "I have not been here for many decades."

"Oh…" Ron muttered.

"In truth, no one even knows of its existence," Dumbledore told Ron.

"No one?" Ron asked.

"Well, no one who'll discuss this place," Dumbledore replied. What's that supposed to mean? "Come, let's look around a little."

"Why haven't you come here for many decades?" Ron asked as they began looking around, and Dumbledore said nothing. "I don't mean to pry, just curious. You don't have to tell me."

"Too many memories in these walls, Ronald," Dumbledore looked around the 'Kitchen', repairing all of this would be costly. "Terrible memories."

"I see," Ron said slowly. "I'm sorry to hear that." Change the topic. "So… What are your plans for this place?"

"We'll need to repair the ground floor first, and then move onto the second," Dumbledore started, grateful for Ron's change of subject. "I was thinking that we could add two more floors on top of the second floor, just to make sure that we have enough space. We'll also expand each area with the Undetectable Expansion Charm. And yes, I'll teach you." Yay! "Once the repairs, and additions, are finished, we can start bringing in furniture." Furniture… Heavy furniture.

"You brought me here to lift heavy things," Ron gave Dumbledore an offended look, and the old wizard genuinely laughed. Good, he doesn't look as melancholy as before.

"You're a young man, Ronald, you'll live," Dumbledore assured him. "As for me, I'd break some bone if I put too much pressure on it."

"Playing the old man card," Ron clicked his tongue. "That's unfair."

"And yet, I played it," Dumbledore lightly patted the back of Ron's head. My hairstyle! Why?! "Now that we've seen what we're up against, take my arm. I want to show you something else."

Ron did as he was told, and Dumbledore Apparated them both into the middle of a snowy town square. Ron felt a little lightheaded, and after he shook his head clear, he realized that Dumbledore was facing the other way. Ron slowly turned around, and he came face to face with the statue of a Family of three. The mother and father sat side-by-side, happy and proud smiles on their faces as they watched their infant son, who was perched happily on his mother's lap. I've read about this statue…

"In the inspiring memory of the Potters," Ron read the plaque, and then he looked back to the statue with a weak smile. "They look like they're wearing snow caps… It's a lovely monument." Ron then looked to Dumbledore. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I come here once in a while," Dumbledore said rather softly. "I clean up any form of blemish, and then leave flowers behind."

"Why?" Ron asked.

"Because this statue gives me courage," Dumbledore smiled at Ron. Courage? "James and Lily Potter defeated the Dark Lord, Ronald, not me. Their love destroyed the Darkest Wizard in History, while I was close to my wit's end."

"What actually happened that night? How did Harry manage to damage the Dark Lord?" Ron asked.

"Love," Dumbledore said. "Lily Potter cast herself between Harry, her infant son, and when Lord Voldemort murdered her ruthlessly for it, it triggered Ancient Magic. Lily's sacrifice placed a Love Protection on her infant son, and so when the Dark Lord attempted to destroy him, his Curse rebounded."

"And that has never happened before?" Ron asked. "No other mother gave her life for her child?"

"Lily had the option to live, but she chose not to," Dumbledore replied. "She died in the hope of giving her son some few extra seconds to live."

"She chose to die…" Ron muttered under his breath, his eyes returning to the statue. Her sacrifice saved her son. "You should bring Harry here."

"Sirius tells me that he plans to bring Harry here during the Christmas Break," Dumbledore said. "Whenever I see this statue, it humbles me. It reminds me that a life without love is no life at all. That we must pity those who live without love above all others."

"Like the Dark Lord?" Ron asked.

"Yes, those like the Dark Lord," Dumbledore replied. "But also those who are unloved. Children like Priscilla, the misunderstood Werewolves, the weary Vampires, and any others who are disregarded by the World."

"I agree with the 'Unloved people' part," Ron nodded. "If people were just a bit more understanding, we wouldn't be standing in front of a statue. Maybe James and Lily Potter would still be alive. As for the Dark Lord… People who murder indiscriminately should not be pitied, or cared for."

"Lord Voldemort was an orphan too, Ronald," Dumbledore reminded Ron. "No one reached out to him, not a single soul. His very existence reminds me of an Ancient African Proverb… The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth."

"I don't think he's capable of love, Headmaster," Ron sighed. "I think he was born wrong… He just came into the World to cause death and carnage."

"Perhaps, but alas, we'll never know for certain," Dumbledore said.

"We could go down to Nott Manor and ask him," Ron smiled at Dumbledore, who looked rather amused with Ron's comment. "Speaking of the Dark Lord… How was the meeting today? Did the French behave?"

"Some more than others," Dumbledore replied. "Many of them think that their involvement in the Order will be rewarded."

"Great," Ron shook his head. "Who wants what?" Emilia Travers mentioned that people's greed always takes priority, and I'm starting to believe her.

"Lady Abadie is the most ambitious one," Dumbledore told Ron. "She wants to take over the French Veela Community. All of it."

"The other Families will never stand for that," Ron frowned to himself.

"Conflict will arise very soon," Dumbledore said. "I managed to stop their arguing today, but the seed is planted."

"Damn," Ron said. "What do we do?"

"Sadly, there is very little that we can do," Dumbledore admitted. "If we refuse her, then she leaves. We have no way of knowing that she'll tell someone out of spite, so we must Obliviate her, and her husband."

"That'll go over well," Ron grimaced. "Behave, or we'll rape your minds… That's a solid message." People will leave in droves.

"The other option is to give her some form of power," Dumbledore said. "Maybe those who wish to follow her can do so without consequences from the other French Families." Oh, there will definitely be consequences. Some cunt will start something, I know it.

"I can already smell a civil war happening because of that," Ron said. "What if we reward the person who brings in the most amount of recruits? That way, people will have an incentive to help us, while we just throw them a bone."

"We are of the same mind, then," Dumbledore smiled to himself. "We will reward those who put in the work. The Veelas will only follow a French commander, and so the French Family which recruits the most amount of Veelas can be in charge of them."

"But they answer to you, in the end," Ron finished. "If we give too much power, we're bound to divide the Order." Sort of like the Silver Triumvirate. They run the House, but they answer directly to Professor Snape. It keeps them… humble.

"Come, let's be away," Dumbledore said, visiting his childhood home had hurt more than he could've imagined.

"When do we start the repairs on the house?" Ron asked. Your childhood house, which has terrible memories inside it. I won't lie, I'm very curious to learn more. But… I don't want to overstep with him.

"I will order the materials tonight, and hire a team of very capable Builder-Elves," Dumbledore promised.

"Well, you should know that there are thirteen of them in total, and I asked Priscilla to find more orphans in Knockturn Alley if she could," Ron told the old man. "She says that she knows her way around, and that enough people know her to leave her alone. She'll bring as many kids as she can."

"I shall have thirty rooms made, which shouldn't be a problem with Magic, and then you can help me resize them all," Dumbledore said. That Charm sounds extremely handy to know. I like this plan.

"One last thing… Could you build a room in the attic just for me?" Ron asked, and Dumbledore waited for him to go on. "Just in case I need a place to lay low if something goes wrong."

"Consider it done."

---

Twenty Minutes Later

Ron stepped into the common room, and immediately, he felt eyes on him. Yes, I'm back. You can all go back to staring again. Ron looked around for his friends, and when he finally saw them, he began making his way over to greet them. I'll say hello, and then goodnight. I'm knackered.

"How was your game with the Headmaster?" a fifth year smiled at him as he passed. Who the fuck are you?

"Yeah, it was good," Ron gave a polite nod.

"Hey, Ron."

"Thought you had already tucked in for the night, mate." Mate?

"Hi, Ron," Mathias waved at him, and Ron waved back. Even the little ones are plotting to use me. Yeesh.

"Ron!" Clara suddenly stepped into his way. "I've been waiting for you. There's some Triumvirate business to discuss."

"Hello, Clara," Ron smiled at her, and she quickly took his arm.

"Carey and Samantha are in the Training Room," Clara began dragging him away from his friends. "Oh, and congratulations on your latest achievement."

"Thank you," Ron said genuinely. Her massive tits are squeezing my arm!

"You certainly are in a rush to reach your ambitions, whatever they are," Clara chuckled. "Everyone's talking about you, again, so I'd best be careful if I were you. Some girl might try to dig her claws into you."

At that, she pinched his forearm with a playful smile.

"Some girl, huh?" Ron sniggered.

"International Diplomat has a very sexy tone to it," Clara said sweetly. "Maybe it's time for your lessons in pleasing girls?" Oh, I made that deal, didn't I?

"I would like to please Daphne," Ron all but whispered, he didn't want anyone to overhear him.

"I'm free on Wednesday," she told him. "Just come and find me when you're ready." That soon?

Ron swallowed thickly, he couldn't deny that he felt excited at the prospect of learning from Clara. I wonder how she'll teach me. As long as I don't put my hands on her, I won't be betraying Daphne. I'll just sit and take notes, I reckon. They made their way inside the Training Room, and Ron spotted Samantha and Carey hunched over a table.

"Look who just strolled in," Clara said as they approached the girls, both of whom turned around to look at Ron.

"Ron," Carey smiled, and Ron smiled back.

"Hello."

"Congratulations on making it into the Ministry," Carey said smoothly. "Maybe we'll run into each other once I've Graduated."

"You plan to work in the Ministry?" Ron asked, and she gave him a nod.

"I have already been granted a position within the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophe's," Carey replied. "I met the Head of the Department during one of Samantha's parties, and she was more than happy to accept a 'bright, young woman'."

"Congratulations, then," Ron said. "We can have lunch together every now and then, right?" And I can keep my eye on you. After all, you'll be an Order member by then courtesy of yours truly.

"I would like that," Carey patted his cheek lovingly.

"Once I'm back from my vacation, I'll join you," Clara said.

"Vacation?" Ron asked. Uh oh…

"I want to see the World," Clara announced with panache. "I want to eat good food, meet lots of young wizards, and just enjoy myself." No, that's not happening. If you're overseas, then you'll be in danger.

"What about you, Samantha?" Ron asked.

"I'm going to start training as a Healer," Samantha replied, and Ron was a little surprised by her humble career path. "As you know, there is a shortage of Healers within Britain, and so they are very sought after. I'll have a secured job, which will definitely be lucrative to inspire incentive, and matched with my trust fund, I'll live a cozy life in London." We get a Healer, and her life won't be very cozy. In a way, I envy that they are ignorant of what's coming.

"Then we should all catch up after you three Graduate," Ron said. "I'm sure we'll need allies out in the real World."

"Agreed," Carey gave a nod. "Now… Let's talk business. The sixth years did exceptionally well today in their Duels."

"Seven out of the twelve quarterfinalists are from Slytherin," Samantha told Ron, who grinned widely.

"Awesome!" Ron said.

"Now only the seventh years' Duels are left," Clara said. "We want to talk about your brother Percy… He has been at the top of our class from first year, and he probably knows more Spells than all four of us combined."

"That shouldn't make a difference," Ron said thoughtfully, and the girls cocked their eyebrows. "In a Duel, there's a lot of different factors at play. Sure, his arsenal is his strength, but Percy is rather unfit. He hates exercise of any form, he always has, which means that he has very low stamina. You make him run, and he'll start making mistakes. Keep him on the defensive, and you'll force him to use simpler Spells due to a shortage of casting time." Like that P-12 training dummy did with me. It was a piece of wood, and I barely managed to beat it.

"That sounds quite reasonable," Carey looked to Samantha, who gave her friend a nod.

"Anything else?" Ron asked them.

"We were thinking of having a combined training session on the Friday before the Finals," Clara told him. "Your presence would be greatly appreciated."

"I'll be there," Ron promised. "I'm quite confident in the second years, and in myself. The fourth and sixth years look like they have a good chance at winning, so that's already four out of six years that we can count on."

"If we win even three, we'll be too far ahead to catch," Carey smiled to herself. "You've destroyed the Gryffindors, the Hufflepuffs are no threat at all, and the Ravenclaws need at least five wins to be a threat."

"We, of course, won't let our guard down," Samantha said, and Carey nodded.

"Thank you for your advice about Percy, Ron," Carey tapped the underside of his chin.

"Happy to help," Ron said, and Clara let go of his arm.

"Goodnight, Ron, and congratulations again," Samantha said. "Oh, and try to rest properly. Don't get sick before the Finals."

"For a moment, I thought that you cared about me," Ron sniggered, and then he turned around to leave. "I'll see you three around."

"Bye, Ron, and don't forget," Clara said sweetly. Don't tell them, woman!

"Don't forget what?" Carey asked.

"Nothing worth knowing about, I promise," Clara giggled, while Ron quickly left the Training Room. Clara… She did that on purpose, I know it.

As Ron reentered the common room, he found Theo waiting for him by the entrance.

"Hello, Theo," Ron grinned at his mate, who immediately smirked. Ah, classic Theo.

"You got a minute, Ron?" Theo asked. "I just wanted to have a quick chat."

"Of course," Ron agreed, and Theo gestured towards the boys' dorms.

Both boys began making their way towards their room, and Ron subtly studied Theo's face. He lost his smirk… Is it something serious? What's happened? Once they were inside the room, Theo closed and locked the door.

"Theo, why did you lock the door?" Ron asked from the middle of the room, and Theo blinked at him.

"Oh… I just want some privacy," Theo explained. "I already don't feel right bringing this up, so I don't want anyone to walk in while we're talking."

"Alright, go on," Ron gave Theo all of his attention.

"Right…" Theo cleared his throat, an air of seriousness about him. "Look, I don't want to sound… petty… but I also don't want to lose out on opportunities in the Future. I'm not trying to guilt you, or make you upset in any way…"

"Okay," Ron gave a slow nod, what was this about?

"You told Daphne about the International Diplomat affair…" Theo said, his eyes meeting Ron's for a moment. "But you didn't tell Blaise, or me…" Oh, is that why they looked upset yesterday?

"That bothers you two?" Ron asked, making sure to be gentle.

"It does…" Theo sighed out. "It's just that ever since you started dating Daphne… We don't talk like we used to, Ron. You, Blaise, and I, that is… You used to come to us, but you do that less and less now." They're jealous of Daphne? I shouldn't say that. "We both feel that way, but Blaise doesn't see the point of bringing it up. You know how he is, don't you?"

"Yeah…" Ron replied.

"But I would've liked to take part in this French deal," Theo admitted. "I know that honesty works best with you, so here I am, sounding like a whiny child…"

"No, you don't sound like that," Ron assured him, he felt a little guilty now for keeping the Ministry business a secret. Plus, he's right. I don't really go to my mates for help anymore, I just talk things out with Daphne. Or Madam Pomfrey. "Sorry, Theo… I didn't mean to be neglectful of you guys."

"No, it's alright," Theo said awkwardly, he hated talks such as these. "Just next time, know that you can rely on us too. Daphne is your girlfriend, but we're your mates."

"I understand," Ron gave a firm nod. "I'd like to talk more often as well."

"Good," Theo smiled a little. "Glad we got that sorted."

"Me too," Ron said, and they just stared at each other for a few seconds. "Hug?"

"Hug."

---

Pitch Black Darkness

Ron found himself standing in a pit of emptiness. There was no sound, not even a whisper. How had he found himself in such a place? He knew that he didn't belong here, but he wasn't sure how he knew. There was something not right with this place, he could feel it in his bones.

As Ron debated whether to leave, or not, he heard a crow in the distance. Its screams became louder and louder, and pretty soon, Ron could see it flying over to him. It's white… That's weird. The crow flew over Ron's head, and as Ron turned to follow it, he saw that there were hundreds of glowing gravestones behind him. Ron looked around the pitch blackness, and then he looked back to the glowing gravestones.

"What the fuck…?" Ron blinked, while the crow perched itself on the nearest one.

Slowly, and very carefully, Ron approached the gravestone closest to him, making sure to not spook the white crow. As he got closer, the glow on the gravestone dimmed, and Ron was able to read the writing on it.

"Ronald B. Weasley," Ron swallowed thickly, and then he looked to the other gravestones. Four-hundred and sixty-three gravestones…

Ron looked to the white crow, and it cocked its head at him.

"What are you trying to show me?" Ron asked the bird, and it screamed as it flapped its wings.

"Kill them, Ron, or they'll kill you," the crow suddenly spoke in Ron's own voice, and Ron took a step back immediately. Sweet Circe, it's possessed. "They are not worth saving… Kill, and rule over what's left. Power is the only real thing in this World, and no one deserves it more than the Champion of Fate." Champion of Fate?

"Kiss my arse," Ron said on instinct.

The crow began screaming like a crow once again, and then it flew off towards the pitch black sky. Ron followed its disappearing form with a confused, and slightly annoyed, expression. Once Ron was done eyeing the creepy white crow, he looked back down, and he noticed that the gravestones were all gone.

"Now what?" Ron asked himself, and before he could even think of something, the ground gave away from beneath him.

Ron landed in an earthy grave with a dull thud, and a winded grunt escaped his lips. Fuck… That hurt… Ron slowly stood back up, and when he looked up, he spotted his friends and Family staring down at him.

"Mum! Dad!" Ron called out, but they just kept staring at him with unfeeling expressions. "Um… Guys?!"

His siblings and his friends shared Arthur and Molly's uninterested looks, and Ron found himself feeling a little scared because of their dead-eyed stares. And then, Arthur began shoveling dirt into the grave. For a moment, Ron was stunned by the fresh patch of earth that was rained down upon him, but when the others started following Arthur's lead, Ron felt panic fill his every fiber.

"HEY!" Ron screamed. "I'm down here! Stop it!"

They kept shoveling, and Ron tried to find a way out. Fuck! It's just a massive hole!

"Brachium Colubrum," Ron chanted as he aimed his left hand up, but no ethereal serpent came out. "Oh… Fuck…"

More dirt rained down on him, and Ron quickly found his feet sinking into the fresh dirt.

"Stop!" Ron screamed again. "I'm down here! Mum! Dad! What are you fucking doing?! Daphne! Stop it!"

They kept shoveling, and Ron tried to protect his eyes from the dirt.

"You're burying me!" Ron yelled at the top of his lungs. "I'll fucking die down here if you keep doing that! Please! Ginny! Luna! Fucking stop!"

Ron's screams fell on deaf, unfeeling ears, and after a minute, he found it incredibly hard to move around. My fucking torso is starting to sink! FUCK! FUCKING FUCK!

"STOP! I'M BEGGING YOU!" Ron screamed, his throat nearly tearing. "You're killing me! STOP IT! Daphne! Stop them! FUCK!"

Dirt hit his tear-soaked face, and Ron began howling like a mad-dog.

"I don't want to die! Not yet! Theo! Blaise!" Ron begged them. "STOP! PLEASE!"

They just kept shoveling, not a hint of care on their faces.

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: And there it is! This chapter concludes the Gala Arc, and I want to hit Christmas by Chapter 100, so things will get a crack on.

Voldemort will feature in the next Chapter, so heads up for that. I know some people find it hard to read his segments, mostly because of how... evil... he is.

See you guys on Sunday, or maybe Monday, for Chapter 99! Nearly there, people!