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.

102. Chapter 102 - Blood Money

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Chapter 102 is here! Someone told me to KMS for writing a story on Ron Weasley of all characters, and I haven't laughed that hard for like months! People are fucking crazy about Harry Potter, and I love it!

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 102 – Blood Money

Ronald Weasley's POV

Blood dripped down his knuckles and chin, he could feel its warmth soaking into his school robes. I'm covered in it… I'm covered in blood…

Ron looked ahead slowly, his mind was losing its focus.

How had it come to this?

He couldn't remember right now.

All he knew was that he felt no remorse whatsoever, and he never would.

---

Monday 14th December, 1993 (Madam Pomfrey's Office – After Classes)

"So you did it to show the French your strength?" Madam Pomfrey asked for clarification, she was no longer awed by Ron's Magical power, and if she was, she was hiding it well.

"Yes," Ron gave another nod. "I have to show them that I'm not just a child. My foot might be through the door, but they still saw me as only a thirteen year old."

"Perhaps they do that because you are a thirteen year old," Madam Pomfrey said.

"I don't feel thirteen, nor do I look thirteen," Ron shrugged. "A person's age shouldn't determine what they're capable of."

"You realize that you are the only thirteen year old in your shoes, don't you?" she asked him. "Children your age-"

"Yes, yes… I know," Ron had heard this before. "Children my age pursue hobbies, girls, boys, and other distractions."

"Ronald… You have to slow down," she said it outright, and Ron just stared at her. This again… When will people understand that I don't intend to slow down? "You are pushing yourself far too much, and sooner or later, it will catch up with you."

"I feel perfectly fine," Ron assured her, and then he stood up. "This session is not agreeing with me, so I think I'll be on my way." I already have plans for today, and I need to get a move on before the shops close.

"Not agreeing with you?" Madam Pomfrey blinked. "Ronald, these sessions are not meant to agree with you. You are here to get help-"

"I don't feel like being here, Madam Pomfrey," Ron said as he moved to the door. "As a patient, I have the right to leave if I am not comfortable."

"You mean you have better things to do," Madam Pomfrey frowned a little. Yes. "Are you going to leave Hogwarts again?"

Ron stopped, and then he slowly turned to face her.

"Leave Hogwarts?" Ron asked.

"The Professors have noticed your comings and goings," she told him. "You constantly leave the school premises, and you do so without supervision. Now… I don't know what sort of agreement you have with the Headmaster, but I will be speaking with him about it very soon."

"Why?" Ron asked.

"Because you are my patient, and he is undermining me by allowing you to do as you please," Madam Pomfrey said sternly.

"If that is what you want to do, then please, go ahead," Ron said calmly, what else could he say? "I can't stop you."

With that, Ron left the Head Matron's Office. Hopefully, the Headmaster won't give in to her demands, but if he does, I'll start using Marty to leave Hogwarts. The simple truth is that I can't do anything useful from within Hogwarts. I need to travel to Diagon Alley in order to handle a lot of my business. As Ron turned the corner, an idea struck him. Why was he going up to the Headmaster's Office in the first place?

Ron quickly found himself an abandoned classroom, and once he was inside, he called for his Elf.

"Marty!" Ron called out, and within a heartbeat, Marty had cracked into the room.

"Master called Marty?" Marty beamed at Ron, who couldn't help but notice that Marty was covered in flour.

"What happened to you?" Ron asked, his eyes scanning Marty. He's completely covered in the stuff.

"The Elves are making cakes for tonight's dinner, Master," Marty smiled a toothy smile. "Marty is in charge of the flour."

"You've been having fun with it, haven't you?" Ron couldn't help but smile, while Marty let out a childish laugh. "I won't waste too much of your time, Marty. I need to get to Gringotts, and fast." Gornuk might already be heading home for the day.

"Master could never waste Marty's time," Marty put his floury hand forward, and Ron quickly took it. "Is Master ready?"

"I am," Ron held his breath, and just like that, he was being pulled through a straw. Good lord!

Ron once again managed to land on his feet, and much to his surprise, he felt very little nausea. Marty had brought them to Gringotts' front steps, and Ron couldn't help but wonder why Marty had stopped just outside. Is it Warded against Elf Magic? Probably. Ron could also hear just how busy Diagon Alley was right now, there were people everywhere. Most of them seem to be going home from work.

"Does Master require Marty to accompany him?" Marty asked.

"No, I'll take it from here," Ron patted his robes' pocket, Dumbledore's 'Anti-Horcrux' pouch was inside. And within it are the sixteen pieces of cut emeralds that Marty pulled out of the dagger. Plus, I also stored Salazar's parchments and dagger inside. This Undetectable Extension Charm is extremely handy, so I need to work harder at learning it. "Have fun baking cakes, Marty."

"Marty always does," Marty gave a bow, and then he Disapparated.

Ron made his way into Gringotts quickly, he desperately hoped that Gornuk was still around for the day. I've got a millions things to do, and these therapy sessions are starting to get in the way. I don't see why it's compulsory for me to attend them… I mean, I'm the patient, right? Maybe I should only go when I need to talk about something? Gringotts was extremely busy as usual, which only served to make Ron more hopeful. Should I see another Goblin if Gornuk isn't here? No. That might insult him, not to mention that I only trust Gornuk. Well, I sort of trust him. He does right by me whenever he stands to make a profit.

As Ron made his way further into Gringotts, he spotted Gornuk speaking to an old wizard from behind his desk. Yes! Thank you, Universe! Gornuk had a terribly bored look on his face as the old wizard droned on and on about something, and Ron patiently got into line. Once the old man is done, I'll ask Gornuk for a private meeting. Gornuk spotted Ron easily enough due to his vibrant red hair, but he could do little but listen to the old wizard's complaints.

"Ron?" came Bill's voice from behind him, and Ron looked back to see his eldest brother.

Bill had a bunch of documents in his hands, and he was staring at Ron with a slightly bewildered look. Just my damn luck… I snuck out of Hogwarts, and I ran into an old Head Boy.

"Bill," Ron put on a smile. "You've started working here already?"

"Yeah," Bill slowly approached Ron. "What are you doing here, mate? It's a school day."

"I need to speak to my Vault Manager," Ron replied. Say nothing about the gems, or about your plans to sell them on the black market. "How's work treating-?"

"Where is your supervision?" Bill asked, his eyes darting around them. Fuck.

"I don't have any," Ron saw no way out of this one.

"Really?" Bill cocked an eyebrow. "Ron… This is the second time that I've found you here, and both times, you've had no supervision."

"I don't need it," Ron shrugged. "I mean, you saw me yesterday, right?"

Bill suddenly remembered what Ron was capable of now, and he had to admit, he wasn't sure that he could stand against Ron in an actual Duel.

"Plus, we're in a bank," Ron went on. "What could possibly go wrong in here?"

"You'd be surprised," Bill shot a look towards Gornuk. "Does the Headmaster know that you're here, at least?" Nope.

"Of course he does," Ron lied easily. "I had to use his fireplace to get here, didn't I?"

"Right… You used the floo," Bill looked Ron over, his expression turning serious. "You're wearing your school robes, and they are in perfect condition." Oh… "Want to try again?" Want to leave me alone?

Ron was about to tear Bill a new arsehole for being too nosey, but Gornuk interrupted them by calling out Ron's name.

"Mr. Weasley, what can I do for you?" Gornuk asked Ron, though his beady eyes were fixed on Bill.

"I want to discuss my account," Ron looked back to Gornuk, a pleasant smile on his face. "In private, please."

"I see," Gornuk gave a nod. "Follow me."

"Ron, I want to know how you left Hogwarts without using a fireplace," Bill stopped Ron by grabbing his arm. "And I want to know why you left without telling anyone."

"And I want world peace, but wanting something doesn't give you the right to have it," Ron said as he pulled his arm away from Bill. "And don't touch me needlessly. I don't appreciate it."

"Sorry," Bill remembered that Ron's arms were covered with scars, while Ron fought the urge to pull at his sleeves. Just go with Gornuk, Ron. Don't make a big deal out of this, Bill probably forgot about your scars. "I still want to know-"

"Bill, go back to your work," Ron said as he left to follow after Gornuk. "And leave me to mine."

Ron didn't bother to look back in order to see Bill's expression, and quite frankly, he couldn't give a fuck. Why was it that people were so interested in the lives of others? Why couldn't they just focus on themselves? Everyone thinks they know best, and they can't help but finger me in the process. Ron drew in a deep breath, and he tried to calm down his mind. Slowly, but surely, he felt like he was on Stoatshead Hill, and a small amount of peace washed over him. But with peace came clarity. I overreacted with Bill, didn't I? Damn… Why did he have to grab my scars?

"I'm glad you're here, Mr. Weasley," Gornuk said as they neared the Office. "I was going to Owl you right after my shift ended."

"Owl me about what?" Ron asked as he stepped through the door, which Gornuk shut quickly. What was that?

Ron turned to see Gornuk locking his door, which only confused Ron even more. What's going on here? Gornuk turned to look at Ron with a furrowed brow, and Ron cocked an eyebrow.

"Mr. Weasley, why did the Department of Magical Law Enforcement request a log on the activities of your accounts?" Gornuk asked, and Ron was rather taken aback. What?

"Pardon?" Ron said slowly.

"Please, take a seat," Gornuk said as he himself walked over to his chair, and once they were both sitting down, Gornuk gave Ron a dead serious look. "Mr. Weasley, I have to know if you are up to something… criminal."

"Criminal?" Ron blinked. "Wait… Just start at the start." The Aurors are asking after my accounts' information?

"We got an Owl today from Rufus Scrimgeour, the Head Auror at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Gornuk told him, and Ron felt his stomach tighten. That fuck is still looking into me? Barnabas warned me about spies, but this is something else. "He requested that we hand over the activity logs of your accounts. Things like withdrawals, deposits, estimated values…"

"And you handed them over?" Ron asked, a shudder of nervousness passing through him. I've done a lot of shady things… Merlin, I might be fucked.

"No, we refused," Gornuk told him, and Ron visibly relaxed. "Gringotts is under Goblin Law, not Wizarding Law. He won't be pleased, and he'll take this up further. I was able to stonewall him today, Mr. Weasley, but tomorrow… I cannot promise you anything. If he keeps making noise, the higher ups will give up your information just to shut him up."

"That piece of shite," Ron stood up and began pacing, his face marred by anger. "He doesn't have better things to do?!"

"This is not out of the ordinary," Gornuk told him. "Aurors often ask us for Vault information on suspicious Pure-Bloods. Just last week, we had Aurors sniffing around Mr. Yaxley's accounts." Fucking hell, why me?

"Is there a solution?" Ron asked the Goblin. "Can I maybe bribe someone?"

Gornuk smiled a greedy smile, and Ron immediately felt the need to frown at him. Of course… He wants my money. He was clearly winding me up, and me being the idiot that I am, believed him.

"We Goblins are under no obligations to hand over personal information, we only do it if it becomes too tiresome to keep it to ourselves," Gornuk told him. "But for certain clients, we are willing to extend our patience." Greedy bastard!

"Do not play games with me," Ron rounded the table, his eyes flashing red. "I'll tear out your intestines!"

Gornuk shrunk into his chair with a terrified look, his greed and arrogance completely vanished. Ron loomed over him, his left hand already glowing orange because of a Wandless, Non-Verbal Incendio. Calm down! Relax! It's alright… Breathe. Ron drew in a deep breath, and his left hand began to return to normal. One more. Ron took a step back as he drew in another deep breath, while Gornuk seemed to be petrified in his spot.

"Don't play games with me," Ron said, his voice was still a little strained because of his anger. "Tell me what you want, and be clear about it."

"Clients… Clients who are generous to us are given certain leeway," Gornuk said slowly, his posture was still rigid and defensive.

"And I bribe you for this leeway?" Ron asked him.

"Yes," Gornuk mumbled.

"If you wanted a bribe, why didn't you just ask for one?" Ron frowned. "Why stress me needlessly?"

"Ha… Habit, Sir…" Gornuk stammered.

"How much?" Ron asked as he walked back to his chair. "And be fair here, Gornuk… For your own sake."

"The Aurors are not to be trifled with," Gornuk relaxed a little, though the boy's foreign tongue had frozen his insides. "They are, after all, backed by the British Ministry. It won't be cheap, Mr. Weasley…" Someone kill me, please. Why can't I hold onto my money for more than a few days? "A gift of five hundred Galleons is a good start." FUCK!

"Great," Ron sat down with a slightly annoyed look. "Just fucking perfect…" Damn you, Rufus Scrimgeour. "Wait… A good start? I have to keep bribing you?"

"As long as Rufus Scrimgeour keeps asking after your accounts, yes," Gornuk replied. "I do respect you, Mr. Weasley, but this is how things work around here. I know that your accounts are not what they used to be, but I will get fired if I protect you without making the Bank a profit. This gift will be distributed equally amongst the staff."

"You lot have a 'gift pool'?" Ron couldn't help but ask. "How much money do you make out of this scheme?"

"I cannot tell you that," Gornuk replied, and Ron simply shook his head. Is it any wonder that the Pure-Blood Families hate Goblins? They're stealing from us, plain and simple.

Ron reached into his school robes, and he pulled out the pouch that Dumbledore had given him. One by one, Ron produced the emeralds, while Gornuk's greed was reignited at the sight of the shiny gems. Once Ron had all sixteen pieces in front of him, he turned his attention to Gornuk.

"I want to sell these, but I need your advice," Ron told the Goblin, who was just staring at the gems. Bloody hell, he's so greedy.

"Advice, Mr. Weasley?" Gornuk asked.

"Where will I make the highest profit from these?" Ron asked, and Gornuk finally looked up.

"Usually, I'd ask you to let me sell them," Gornuk replied. "But ever since this crime epidemic hit the country, things on the black market are much cheaper. Everyone is selling stolen goods, and that hurts honest businessmen like ourselves." Honest? "I suggest that you sell them to an actual Jeweler. They will definitely pay a good amount for these."

"How much?" Ron asked. "Give me an estimate."

"I count sixteen, decent-sized pieces," Gornuk did some mathematics in his head. "I'd say at least two thousand Galleons, give or take."

"I see," Ron began putting the gems back into his pouch. "I'll go and sell these, and then you can take five hundred Galleons from my account as your 'gift'."

"You will not regret this, Mr. Weasley," Gornuk promised him. "Rufus Scrimgeour will be turned away at the door, I swear it."

"I bloody hope so," Ron gave Gornuk a deadpan look. I mean, I just got gutted by your fucking Bank. "I also need your help with another matter."

"Name it," Gornuk said, while Ron pulled out Salazar's parchments.

"I need you to take this to a parchment maker," Ron said, and Gornuk carefully took the old parchments. "The writing is faded, and the paper is damaged… I want you to find someone who can restore these, and they must be discreet."

"Ancient knowledge?" Gornuk asked Ron.

"I think so," Ron gave a nod. "Can you do this for me?"

"I will find a Goblin craftsman," Gornuk agreed. "They don't care much for Wizarding secrets, and they'll do it for a much cheaper price."

"Once you have said price, pay them from my Vault," Ron stood up, it was time to go see Martin. "I'm going to go see a Jeweler about these gems."

"Once the Jeweler's payment arrives, I will take the necessary steps to secure your information," Gornuk told him, he was still a little scared of Ron.

"Next time you want something, just ask for it," Ron said as he walked towards the exit. "I don't like jumping through unnecessary hoops." And don't bloody stress me for no reason… My brain can't handle it.

"I will be more mindful next time, Mr. Weasley," Gornuk said, and once Ron was gone from the Office, the Goblin released a shaky breath before melting into his chair.

Ron made his way towards the front of the Bank, he needed to get to Martin's shop before he closed for the day. The therapy session really didn't help me in regards to time. I shouldn't have gone to it in the first place. As Ron neared the exit, he decided that he needed to write up a schedule for efficiency's sake. I'll get Blaise and Theo to help me. I would ask Daphne, but things are too tense between us right now.

"Ron!" Bill called, he was waiting by the door.

"Bill," Ron greeted back, his thoughts coming to a halt. "What are you doing by the door?"

"My shift has ended, and I was hoping to take you out to a late lunch," Bill said, and Ron just stared at his brother. Late lunch, eh?

"Planning to interrogate me?" Ron asked, making sure to remain calm and decent.

"Look…" Bill sighed out, losing some of his confidence. "I just want to get to know you…" Oh, now I feel a little bad. He sounds genuine. "I feel like ever since I left for Egypt, you and I don't know each other anymore." Please stop… "If you don't have time right now, I understand…"

"Alright," Ron consented, and Bill suddenly smirked at him. "Oh, you prick…"

"Let's go," Bill turned to leave, while Ron scolded himself internally. I fell for the guilt trip like a buffoon.

"I need to run an errand in the Upper District first," Ron followed after Bill.

"An errand?"

"It won't take long, and then we can have some food at a Café," Ron said, and Bill gave him a smile.

---

Thirty Minutes Later

Ron stared at Martin as the Jeweler gazed at the emeralds through a magnifying glass. For the last five minutes, Martin had been eyeballing the gems at a painfully slow speed. Poor Bill is just standing outside. Martin slowly moved the emeralds into one place, and then he looked at Ron with a rather serious look.

"I won't ask how you got these, Mr. Weasley," Martin started, his voice was still a little subdued despite his demeanor. Maybe he's just soft spoken?

"Will you buy them?" Ron asked, and Martin shot a quick look at the gems.

"I will," Martin gave a nod. "I'm willing to pay fifteen hundred in total."

"Fifteen?" Ron asked with a furrowed brow. "I've been told that these would fetch me at least two thousand."

"Whoever gave you that information clearly didn't look at these gems properly," Martin said. "They are old, and as a result, damaged along the edges. I'll have to cut them again, reducing their size. Also, some of these are not in good condition. I'll have to break them into smaller pieces for items like cufflinks. Fifteen hundred." That's still a lot, but Gornuk is going to take five hundred for the Goblin bribe. Fucking Rufus Scrimgeour…

"Fifteen hundred, and a pair of cufflinks," Ron bargained, and Martin looked back to the emeralds. "I think that's fair, Martin. Use one of these to make me cufflinks, and you can have fifteen emeralds for fifteen hundred."

"I… I agree," Martin conceded, and then he produced a parchment of sale. "Please, sign here."

Ron did as he was told, while Martin packed up the emeralds. Once the paper was signed, and the emeralds were stored away, Ron handed the parchment back to Martin.

"I'll make the payment right now, and it'll be in your account by tomorrow morning," Martin promised. "I'll also ship the cufflinks to Hogwarts once they're done. Shouldn't take more than a couple of days." Great. I'll give them to Bill for his new job. He's always loved wearing showy clothing.

"Take care, Martin," Ron headed for the door.

"Can I interest you in a bracelet for young Lady Greengrass?" Martin asked, and Ron shot a smile back.

"Some other day, Martin," Ron waved his goodbye, and then he left the shop. Even last year, I would've spent my newly acquired wealth without thought. But now… Now she'll need to wait for her birthday, just like everyone else.

"Finally," Bill 'groaned' as Ron stepped out of the shop, and Ron just smirked at him. "When you said that you had an errand to run, I expected something more exciting."

"Like what?" Ron snorted.

"I don't know," Bill shrugged. "Something not exactly legal, you know?" If only you knew what I was up to.

"I'm not you, Bill," Ron said with a happy smile. "I obey the Law."

"Fuck off," Bill laughed, and then he looked towards a nearby Café. "Let's go there. I had a look at their menu, and they've got pork sandwiches."

"You had me at pork," Ron said as they began making their way over. "So… How's your new job?"

"Pretty boring, actually," Bill replied. "All I do is push papers…"

"How long have you been working there?"

"Just today," Bill replied, and Ron shot him a deadpan look. "What? You can tell a lot about a job from your first day. When I signed on as a Curse-Breaker in Egypt, they sent me out into the field without notice."

"Bet you loved that," Ron said knowingly.

"I did," Bill admitted. "But here… They put me behind a desk, and then ignored me for the rest of the day." Bill then let out a sigh. "At least mum and dad will approve of my new desk job… They kept giving me lectures through letters about personal safety."

"That's what you get for choosing a dangerous profession," Ron laughed at Bill's expense.

"You should read the letters that mum sends Charlie," Bill smiled at the sound of Ron's laughter. "She's even sent him Howlers before."

"Not surprised at all," Ron said as they entered the café, and a young waitress quickly approached them.

"Table for two?" she smiled at Bill, and he smiled back in his usual way.

"That sounds perfect," Bill said smoothly. Must be nice to be so handsome… Cunt.

"Alright, just follow me," the waitress said, and as she guided them to a free table, she kept shooting looks back at Bill. I'm here too! Pay attention to me! "Here you are."

"Thanks," Ron finally spoke up, and she shot him a quick look.

"I'll be right back-" she started, but she stopped when she realized that Ron was wearing school robes. "Um… Aren't you supposed to be in Hogwarts?"

"This isn't Hogwarts?" Ron asked as he looked around the Café. "Bloody hell… How did I end up here?"

"Fair enough," she chuckled, while the brothers took their seats. "I'll be right back with the menus. Do you boys want something to drink?"

"Two ice-teas, please," Bill replied, and she smiled widely before leaving to get their drinks. "Nice lass."

"You handsome prick…" Ron muttered under his breath.

"Pardon?" Bill asked, he hadn't heard Ron.

"Nothing," Ron smiled. I wish I had your face. Wait… That sounded really fucking creepy.

"Ron? Are you there?" Bill waved at Ron, who quickly broke away from his thoughts. "Merlin… You're still so weird sometimes."

"Is this how you treat your other dates?" Ron asked, and Bill let out a laugh. "You call them weird before the food is served?"

"It's why I'm still single," Bill shrugged casually. "Speaking of being single… How's your relationship with Daphne going?"

"Smooth transition," Ron said sarcastically. "And my relationship is going fine."

"Fine?" Bill asked. "C'mon, Ron… Talk to me. I am trying to reconnect with you here, but you have to meet me halfway. Otherwise, we'll just be strangers…" He is right about that. Sometimes, I feel like only Daphne, Snape, and Dumbledore really know me.

"Are you guilt tripping me again?" Ron asked with narrowed eyes.

"Is it working?" Bill asked.

"Yes…"

"Good," Bill smiled widely. "Now, let me hear your woes, little brother. Tell me angst-filled stories."

"There is no angst," Ron sniggered. "But…" Should I tell him? I mean, he knows about my Brain-Damage and scars. He'd understand the importance of our conversation, right?

"But?" Bill urged, and just as Ron was about to open up, the waitress returned with their drinks.

"Two ice-teas," she smiled at Bill, who accepted the drinks with a smile of his own. If they keep smiling at each other, I'll flip a table. "Here are the menus as well."

"We've already decided to try out your pork sandwiches," Bill said, and she gave him a nod.

"We'll have five," Ron ordered, and she shot him a slightly confused look. What? Just do your job, woman. "Two for me, two for him, and one for my girlfriend back at Hogwarts." Daphne loves pork sandwiches.

"Oh… Alright," she quickly wrote down the order, and once she was gone, Ron took a sip of his drink. Damn, that's really sweet, but delicious.

"Don't like it?" Bill asked.

"I do," Ron replied truthfully. "It's just that I don't usually have sweet things."

"Since when?" Bill asked, he remembered Ron stuffing his face with cakes and pastries.

"Since my Dueling tutor banned me from ruining my health," Ron drawled. "It's not fun, but I do feel healthier because of it."

"Well, we'll just keep this between ourselves," Bill said in a brotherly manner, and Ron took another sip of his drink. "As a matter of fact, we'll keep this entire outing to ourselves."

"Really?" Ron asked, he knew where this was going. "That's very helpful of you, Bill."

"I know, right?" Bill smirked. "Now, what were you about to tell me?"

"So persistent," Ron sighed out. "Things between Daphne and I are a little… strained."

"So mum was right," Bill said, making Ron blink. "She noticed that you two weren't sitting together during the Dueling Tournament, and her being who she is, started suspecting a fight. She even approached Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass with her theory, and they believed her."

"Ah, why?" Ron groaned, an embarrassed feeling creeping up on him. "Why would she do this?"

"She's just worried," Bill told him calmly. "Don't tell anyone this, but your girlfriend has won mum over. According to mum, 'Daphne is a responsible young woman'." That does sound like something mum would say.

"It's because Daphne researched my conditions," Ron explained. "Mum was quite pleased to hear about Daphne's vast knowledge on brain related injuries."

"Not many girls would make that sort of effort," Bill said. "She definitely cares about you, which is all mum and dad need from their daughter-in-law."

"You had to say it," Ron frowned, while Bill just chuckled at his own joke.

"So… What happened?" Bill asked Ron. "Were you at fault?"

"Sort of," Ron replied, his tone becoming lower. "I brought up my health, and we had a disagreement. That's all."

"Be more vague, Ron," Bill said with a dead-eyed look. "C'mon, little brother… You can talk to me." He's really persistent, I'll give him that. My other siblings get tired of asking a lot faster.

"I… told her that I could die before graduating," Ron said slowly, and Bill's jaw dropped open.

"What?"

"I told her that my Brain-Damage could become fatal one day," Ron repeated, his tone becoming defensive. "It's true, so there's no point in denying it. She completely missed my point, and after our back and forth, she started bawling. It was not a fun experience…"

"Ron… What the fuck?" Bill looked at Ron like he was an idiot. "Please tell me that you didn't just say this out of the blue."

"Well… I kind of did," Ron admitted, and Bill just shook his head clear. "What? We need to have this conversation, Bill. She has to understand that I'm really sick, and one of these days, I'll be gone."

"Don't say that," Bill's right eye twitched, and Ron didn't know why, but he immediately stopped. Was that my inbuilt 'older sibling fear'? Snap out of it, Ron. You're his equal.

"Do you have Brain-Damage?" Ron asked, but Bill just frowned at him. "No? Well, then you don't know how it feels. I have to think about things like this, whereas you have never had to. I am being practical here, while you're all relying on emotions."

"Just relax," Bill drew in a deep breath. "I'm sorry… You're right, I don't know how you must feel. All I'm trying to say is that Daphne isn't equipped to handle confessions of that sort. You're her first boyfriend, and you just told her that you come with an expiration date… Is it really surprising that she started crying?"

"No, it isn't… I do understand that she doesn't want to think about that sort of tripe," Ron said. "But she needs to understand it. For her own good."

"Why don't you leave that lesson to her parents?" Bill asked. "They know about your conditions, right?" Ron gave a nod. "Then trust me, they'll talk to her about it when the time is right. They don't want their daughter to have a broken heart."

"I guess I didn't think of that," Ron muttered under his breath. Of course they'd talk to her… But then again, one of the reasons why I talked to her was because I wanted her to take over my orphanage. Wow… I asked for her money, and then told her that I was going to die soon. Merlin, when I think about it like this, I sound like a massive cunt.

"Hello?" Bill waved in his face, and Ron broke out of his thoughts. "Do you just zone out like that all the time?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Ron replied.

"Pork sandwiches," the waitress suddenly showed up. "I hope you enjoy them."

"Thank you," Ron and Bill said together.

"I've wrapped this one up for your girlfriend," the waitress smiled at Ron.

"Thank you very much," Ron smiled back genuinely as he moved Daphne's sandwich away from the others.

"Right, where were we?" Bill asked once the waitress was gone. "Oh, yeah… Let Daphne's parents handle that conversation, Ron. You should just focus on being a kid, because like it or not, you are one. Trust me, growing up isn't very fun, and you'll regret not enjoying your childhood." What fucking childhood, mate?

"You're right," Ron decided to change the topic. "I'll give her some space for now, and once she's ready to talk, we'll talk. I'll stay away from the 'impending death' conversation."

"Impending death conversation?" Bill repeated. "Ron… This isn't something to make jokes about." It's my Brain-Damage, I can make all the jokes I want.

"Sorry, won't happen again," Ron said, and Bill gave him a nod. "Can we talk about something more… fun?"

"Like what?" Bill asked. Think fast, Ron.

"Like… Ah, how are things between Charlie and Kirsten?" Ron asked. "Is mum getting on their nerves yet?" I know she is, judging by Charlie's behavior at the Gala.

"Mum… Dad… The Twins… Charlie's ready to start throwing them all around," Bill smiled a little, he knew that Ron had changed the topic. "Mum caught them shagging behind dad's shed."

"What?" Ron suddenly became very interested. "You didn't start with that?"

"It was pretty funny," Bill chuckled. "She went out to check on her Garden, and lo and behold, she heard them going at it. From what I remember, she just left for the Kitchen without uttering a word. But the moment Kirsten and Charlie came back inside the house, mum went ballistics. 'What if the twins had seen you two?' It was hilarious."

"What did Charlie do?" Ron sniggered.

"He told her that the twins had probably shagged each other by now," Bill snorted, and Ron couldn't hold back his laugh. No way?!

"He really said that?!" Ron asked.

"Like I said… A house full of people is getting to him," Bill started eating his food. "You'll see at Christmas… Charlie has a very short fuse these days."

---

Monday 14th December, 1993 (The Leaky Cauldron – Evening)

"This was fun, Bill," Ron smiled as he hugged his eldest brother. "Thank you." And thank you for not asking me about my Magic capabilities. It was good to just reminisce about our younger days.

"Take care, Ron," Bill gave him a squeeze. "No more running away from Hogwarts, got it?"

"As long you never mention this meeting to anyone," Ron pulled back, and Bill gave him a nod. "Take care, then. I'll see you at Christmas."

"Don't forget to give that to Daphne," Bill looked towards the packed pork sandwich in Ron's left hand. "I'll ask her about it, so you better not eat it yourself."

"I'd never do that," Ron sniggered, and after waving his goodbye, he stepped through the floo that Bill had prepared.

As soon as Ron stepped into Dumbledore's Office, he found the Headmaster playing Chess with himself. He'll ask me where I've been, and I'll have to lie to him. I wish Bill had just let me go my separate way so I could call Marty.

"You're back," Dumbledore looked up from the board, a calm smile on his face. He's not going to ask me how I left?

"Who's winning?" Ron asked as he approached his usual chair.

"Black," Dumbledore looked back to his game.

"You should move that bishop," Ron pointed out, and Dumbledore nodded to himself before doing as Ron advised. "See? Now his knight can't take your bishop from you."

"It hardly matters," Dumbledore tipped over the white king. "White lost this match ten minutes ago. So… Where were you?"

"Gringotts," Ron replied. "I've hired a Muggle-Born reporter for the Quibbler. She's a keeper, I think."

"You're getting better at lying," Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "If I was anyone else, I'd have believed you." Regroup, Ron.

"Rufus Scrimgeour is looking into me," Ron told Dumbledore. "I had to bribe the Goblins with an obscene amount of money to keep Scrimgeour out of my Vaults."

"Have you given him reason to suspect you, Ronald?" Dumbledore asked, his blue eyes twinkling as usual.

"I am a shady cunt," Ron smirked to himself.

"Tsk… Language," Dumbledore 'chided'. "Honestly, my boy, your tongue is blacker than the devil's heart."

Ron stuck his tongue out at Dumbledore, who merely chuckled at Ron's childish display.

"Anyway… The Aurors don't like me very much," Ron said. "I'll need to be careful."

"It is their job to be suspicious," Dumbledore said, and then he smelled the air. "What's that aroma?"

"Ah," Ron smiled as he showed Dumbledore the packed sandwich. "For Daphne."

"An apology gift?" Dumbledore asked.

"No… I was just at a café, and I saw that they had pork sandwiches," Ron shrugged. "Daphne loves pork sandwiches, so I got her one."

"If only other young men were as attentive as you," Dumbledore chuckled, and Ron rolled his eyes. "Miss. Greengrass is a lucky girl-"

"I'm leaving," Ron stood up, making Dumbledore laugh.

"I only tease, my boy," Dumbledore assured him.

"You're bullying me, you mean," Ron feigned hurt. "What kind of Headmaster are you?"

"The jolly, loveable kind," Dumbledore hummed, much to Ron's disgust.

"Ew… Don't ever say that again," Ron grimaced. "You should act more… sagely…"

"I was never the sagely sort, I'm afraid," Dumbledore retorted. "Before you give your beloved her gift-"

"Beloved, he says…" Ron muttered under his breath.

"I need to tell you something," Dumbledore continued. "Remus asked me about you, and he wasn't alone."

"Asked what?" Ron cocked an eyebrow.

"He, and the staff, wanted to know why I took you away from the Tournament," Dumbledore replied. "I told them that you and I had a long conversation about the Dark Arts, and that you left with a thoughtful look about you."

"Are you joking?" Ron's mouth hung open.

"Do take care not to display the Dark Arts at Hogwarts again, Ronald," Dumbledore smiled widely. He bloody cornered me… Now I'll look like the young juvenile who doesn't listen to 'wise counsel' if I ever use the Dark Arts at a Tournament.

"What if I still do it?" Ron asked.

"Then you'll have to answer to Remus, and the Heads of the Houses," Dumbledore replied, and Ron felt the urge to throw a tantrum. Whatever.

"You're a prick," Ron headed for the door.

"Ten Points from Slytherin for speaking ill of your Headmaster," Dumbledore called out, and Ron shot a frown back.

"Mean old codger," Ron said as he exited the Office, he could hear Dumbledore laughing to himself.

Despite the old man's dirty tricks, Ron was glad that the Headmaster was in a jolly mood. Ron had expected a scolding, not a fun reunion with a friend. A friend? Yeah, I guess he is my friend. He certainly doesn't treat me like a child, or even as a student at his school. Ron smiled unintentionally as he passed by the Stone Gargoyle. I think Harry wants this kind of relationship with Dumbledore, but truth be told, he'll never get it. Harry is far too… uptight… to even banter with the old man. In Harry's eyes, Dumbledore is the pinnacle of what a wizard can be, which in turn means that Dumbledore can't be more human around Harry. It would break the illusion.

Ron made his way to the Sanctuary, his mind filled with thoughts about relationships. He couldn't deny that his late lunch with Bill was the highlight of his day. Once Bill had stopped asking about Ron's personal affairs, they had settled into a pleasant conversation about their lives so far. Bill missed Egypt terribly, though he'd never say that near their parents. Bill was always the adventurous sort, so he wasn't sure about his new job either. Ron had then told Bill about his own nervousness when it came to being an International Diplomat, but Bill had assured him that he'd be great at it. Maybe he was just being an older brother, and telling me what I want to hear? Hmmm… Either way, it felt good to talk to one of my siblings so openly.

Once Ron was safely inside his Sanctuary, he called for his Elf. Marty cracked into the room with a massive grin, bits of cake frosting on his hands and face.

"Having fun?" Ron laughed at Marty's appearance, and Marty laughed and nodded fervently. He's got icing on his nose.

"Marty was in charge of icing the cakes," Marty said proudly. "Master will attend dinner tonight, won't he?"

"He definitely will," Ron replied, and Marty's smile widened. "I'll even sneak a cake, eh? Madam Roberts won't be the wiser."

"Marty agrees with this stratagem," Marty told him. "Now, what can Marty do for Master?"

"Can you deliver this to Daphne?" Ron asked. "Without being seen? Tell her that it's from me."

"Marty will do it at once," Marty took the packed sandwich. "Mistress' favorite!"

"Tell her that I'm here, if she wants to talk," Ron said, and Marty left after a deep bow. I don't think she'll come, but if she does, we'll talk this out in a mature manner. I'll be calm, and collected.

Ron walked over to his favorite chair, and once he was sitting down, he looked to the coffee table. I can get some Wandless Magic practice in, I reckon.

"Wingardium Leviosa," Ron chanted, his right palm aimed at the table.

It slowly began to float into the air, and Ron smiled at how easy this was. I could hold onto this Spell for well over a minute, if I wanted. Let's find something heavier to lift. Ron's eyes veered towards the dummies, and a smile broke out on his face. Hello, there.

---

Daphne Greengrass' POV

Monday 14th December, 1993 (Girls' Room – Evening)

Daphne was resting on her bed, reading through Pansy's Witch Weekly Magazines. She had to admit that she was bored senseless, and she desperately wanted to spend time with Ron. But it's still weird between us. He tried to talk to me in Transfiguration today, but I wasn't exactly welcoming. Ugh… I'm bored… I miss my boyfriend…

Daphne's eyes traveled towards Pansy, who was currently doing her hair in front of her mirror. Her hairstyle really suits her. Should I get something like hers? Daphne then looked to Millie, who was just reading through her books about fighting. I still feel guilty about punching Granger. When she showed up for Care of Magical Creatures, I couldn't even look in her direction. Daphne then looked to Tracey, who was just staring at her. What the…?

"See something you like?" Tracey smirked, and Daphne rolled her eyes. "Tsk… How rude."

Daphne went to say something, but she heard a faint popping sound from her left. What was that? Daphne looked around, but she saw nothing. What's that delicious smell?

"Mistress," came a whisper, and Daphne nearly shrieked.

"Marty?" she looked around, getting the attention of her friends. "You can show yourself, it's alright."

Marty suddenly came into existence, a package in his hands.

"Marty!" Pansy turned around with a wide smile.

"Hello, Lady Parkinson," Marty bowed. He says 'Hello' like Ron always does. That's cute. "Marty likes Lady Parkinson's new hair. It suits Lady Parkinson very well."

"Aw… Hush, you," Pansy beamed at her own reflection.

"Marty, what's that?" Daphne asked, looking at the delicious smelling package.

"A gift from Master," Marty handed her the package, and Daphne quickly opened it. Is that a pork sandwich? "Master is in the Sanctuary, and should Mistress want to talk, Master would like that very much." Uh-huh.

For a few moments, she was quite taken aback by the odd gift, but once she remembered her love for greasy pork sandwiches, she smiled widely. He knows me so well!

"He sent a sandwich?" Tracey cocked her eyebrow, while Millie sniggered to herself. "Aren't boys supposed to send chocolates?"

"He got me a pork sandwich," Daphne said a little boastfully. "I prefer these over chocolates." Though, chocolates are also nice.

"Weirdo," Pansy hummed, making the other two girls laugh. Hmph! Whatever!

Daphne went to thank Marty for his delivery, but the Elf had an odd look on his face.

"Marty is being summoned for cake duty," Marty told them, and then he cracked out of the room. I guess he only waits for Ron to dismiss him now. I suppose that's fair, Marty serves Ron now, not my Family.

Daphne took a bite of her sandwich, and everything felt right in the World. It's so good! Where did he get this? And when?

"So…" came Tracey's voice, and Daphne looked to her best friend. "Are you two alright now?"

"Pardon?" Daphne asked after swallowing her bite.

"Are you two not fighting anymore?" Tracey asked, and Daphne just stared at her.

"We were never fighting," Daphne finally said stubbornly.

"Daphne, you two have barely acknowledged each other for the last few days," Pansy turned around. "It's very awkward for the rest of us."

"Wow," Daphne frowned at Pansy, who just shrugged casually.

"Do you want to know what we were fighting about?" Daphne asked them.

"We already know," Millie replied, and Daphne blinked at her. They do? "Tracey and Theo approached Ron shortly after your fight, and he told them." Oh.

"And?" Daphne looked between them. "What is your opinion on the matter?"

"I think that Ron shouldn't say such things," Pansy lost her smile. "He's going to be just fine." Is he? I don't even know anymore.

"I think he's right," Tracey said, and Daphne narrowed her eyes on Tracey. "What? I think he's right, and I won't lie to you, I think you two need to keep that conversation going."

"No," Daphne refused.

"Daph… Ron's thought this through, and he's done it for you," Tracey said, and then she looked to Millie.

"I agree with Tracey," Millie closed her book. "Look… I hate to say this, but Ron is very sick-"

"Don't," Pansy frowned at Millie, who just raised her hands in surrender. "Why do you people keep bringing up his illness? Stop reminding him of it."

"Does Ron look like the sort to forget about such matters?" Tracey asked Pansy, and then she looked to Daphne. "Daphne, just talk to him, yeah? Stop stewing in here when you want to be around him."

"It's not that easy," Daphne huffed out. What would they know? They've never had boyfriends before, and certainly not the sort who buy bloody orphanages out of the blue. "He's… It's not the conversation that gets to me, it's the way Ron talks about his own life."

"Do you want to elaborate on that?" Tracey asked.

"He…" Daphne started, but then she stopped. Should I tell them? I really do need to sort through this, especially with Christmas approaching.

"Daphne, we can't help you if you don't share," Tracey said, and Millie nodded her agreement.

"He is so certain that he's going to die," Daphne told them in a rather blunt manner. There, how's that?

"What?" Pansy muttered, while Tracey and Millie just exchanged slow looks.

"I honestly don't know how to react…" Daphne admitted. "He comes to me, tells me that he has certain plans in motion, and that when he dies, he wants me to take over… How the fuck am I supposed to react to that?" Language, Daphne…

"Plans?" Tracey asked, her shock written on her face. "He really just dropped this on you?" I can't discuss Ron's plans with them, that'd be going too far.

"He doesn't think like we do," Daphne began venting. "To him, this is a completely normal thing to do. And here's the best part, he doesn't care…"

"Doesn't care about what?" Pansy asked slowly.

"About his upcoming demise," Daphne hissed, she was getting too riled up. I can't help it. Why does he think like this? "So there, now you're in the know… Got any advice for me? Can you tell me how I should approach this mess? What do I even say to my sick boyfriend? I know that he has a point, but I hate hearing him talk like that. I hate that he thinks so little of himself, all the while putting the rest of us on pedestals. I mean, he couldn't care less about his own mortality… How sad is that? He was just so damn casual about everything, and it made me sick to my stomach. I felt like my heart was going to break on the spot. Ron cares more about everything when compared to his own life, and I don't know why. So… What do I do?"

The other three girls exchanged looks, and then they all shook their heads weakly.

"Yeah… That's what I thought," Daphne went back to eating her sandwich. And he's being sweet despite our argument! He makes me so angry!

Daphne violently devoured her sandwich, while the others just went back to minding their own business. Relax, Daphne… This isn't like you. You don't wear your heart on your sleeve. But try as she might, she couldn't stop feeling restless. I need to talk to him… But not yet. I just can't deal with that. Daphne pushed the Witch Weekly Magazines aside, and then she pulled out her business ledger. I'll settle on some warehouses for Lady Travers. I'll just be so productive that I forget about my problems. Wait… That's what Ron does! Ah! I'm turning into him!

Unbeknownst to Daphne, her friends were shooting her worried looks. Fuck it! I'm finding some warehouses, and then I'll send a letter to Lady Heroux. I can't let them think that I'm an average thirteen year old girl. I need to win them over before Christmas. Before they leave for France.

---

Corban Yaxley's POV

Tuesday 15th December, 1993 (Yaxley Manor – Late Evening)

His uniform was as clean as it was twelve years ago, and Corban found himself missing how empowering it was to wear it. It had been too long since he had adorned his hallowed robes in order to do his duty to Magical Britain.

The filth was spreading, and with the Dark Lord gone, there was no one left to stop the tide. Twelve years… We could have accomplished so much in twelve years. Corban Yaxley was not a man who lived with regrets, but he did have one… His Lord's demise at the hands of Harry Potter. The day that his Dark Mark had vanished into nothing, Corban had found himself mourning in this very room. The greatest wizard to ever grace Britain was dead, and along with him were the chances of a peaceful, Pure-Blood society.

Corban turned his attention from his uniform to his second most prized possession; a sac of Basilisk venom. Corban had bought this from a rather shady Goblin named Gornuk for far too much money, but it was unlike anything that he owned before. This was an intact venom sac, and one drop from it could kill a Mountain Troll. This item, like everything in this room, was worthy of an Azkaban sentence, but that didn't bother Corban much. This room has never been discovered by the Aurors, despite their many raids.

"Husband," came Anastasia's voice from behind him, and Corban turned to face his wife. "They are here."

"All of them?" Corban asked.

"Everyone except for Lucius and Cornelius," Anastasia replied, and Corban gave her a nod. Those two are impossible to get a hold of these days. We've barely seen them in the last few months. I wonder what they're up to.

"If they do come, send them to my study," Corban walked past her, and once she had exited behind him, Corban sealed the bookshelf entrance.

"A letter came from Lysandra today," Anastasia said. Again?

"Is it filled with tales of that Blood-Traitor?" Corban asked harshly.

"Husband, she's only-"

"Burn it," Corban ordered. "And then, send her an Owl. Tell her that she's to use the Blood-Traitor to further herself, and that she is forbidden to support this disgusting crush of hers." This Weasley boy is quickly becoming a cancer on our World.

"I… I understand, my Lord," Anastasia bowed her head, and Corban left the library without another word.

As he made his way towards his study, he mentally prepared himself for a night with his 'friends'. Most of them were idiots, there was no denying that. Years of inbreeding had left most of them vicious and thoughtless, but there were a few of them that were still useful. It's a shame that Lucius and Cornelius are not here, their wealth and influence is needed in times like these. There was so much to discuss tonight, and once Corban was done sharing his plans, Magical Britain would soon return to normal. Either that, or it will crumble into nothing.

Corban could already hear heated chatter coming from down the hallway, they were all arguing about something. Why am I not surprised by this? Corban steeled his mind with Occlumency, he could not afford to lose his temper tonight. Corban had even handpicked who was in attendance for this meeting. My conspirators; Amycus and Alecto Carrow, Avery Jnr, Herbert Crabbe, Bartholomew Goyle, George Selwyn, Thorfinn Rowle, Walden Macnair, Felix Rosier, Violet Parkinson, and Lucas Flint. History will remember us as the saviors of Magical Britain.

"My friends," Corban said as he entered his study, and the chatter stopped immediately.

"Corban, why did you invite these two degenerates?" George Selwyn asked Corban, his finger aimed at the Carrow siblings. "They are not fit to be amongst-"

"Just shut your mouth, old man," Amycus growled. "Don't make me put you down."

"Put me down?!" George shot up to his feet, an offended look on his face. These idiots will take years off of my life, I can already tell.

"We are all friends here," Corban said firmly, silencing the room. "Our enemies are all out there, so we must be united in here! Please… Enough infighting."

The Pure-Bloods exchanged looks, while Corban closed the door behind him.

"Corban, why did you call us here?" Violet Parkinson asked. "What enemies are you referring to?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Walden asked her. "The fucking French…"

"Half-Breed vermin," Herbert Crabbe hissed.

"They have no right to be here," Bartholomew Goyle added, and everyone nodded in agreement. Good, some common ground at last.

"You are right, Bartholomew," Corban walked to the head of the room, making sure that all eyes were fixed on him. "They have no right to be here, and yet, here they are… They walk our streets, they sully our country with their presence, and I have even heard rumors of them setting up roots."

"Roots?" Thorfinn asked.

"Businesses," Corban replied calmly.

"The Ministry would never allow that," Avery frowned deeply.

"My dear friend, the Ministry has cast us aside," Corban said, and the Pure-Bloods seemed to perk up with attention. "Yes, you know it as well. Our Ministry has changed. It has become more 'tolerant', all the while forgetting about its oldest citizens."

"We built the damn Ministry," Lucas Flint snapped, and Corban gave a nod. That we did.

"You all know me as a man who wastes no time, so I will live up to my reputation," Corban said, his hardened eyes traveling from face to face. I should raise my voice a bit. "We are on the brink of extinction! Just last week, a Mud-Blood from the Accounting Department attempted to put me in front of the Wizengamot for tax evasion!"

"Tax evasion?" the Pure-Bloods looked genuinely confused.

"A Muggle concept that has never applied to us Pure-Bloods," Corban laughed coldly. "They attempted to look into my Vaults, and when the Goblins refused to hand over my information, this fucking Mud-Blood had the gall to send me a letter of notice. When my 'trial' did come up, he was obviously laughed out of the room."

"Good," Thorfinn growled. "Why the fuck do they keep trying to implement Muggle Laws into our society? We have always been exempt from taxes because we already pay for everything."

"Because they are leeches, my friend," Corban replied, and everyone nodded. "This whelp seemed to think that I owed the Wizarding World something, despite us standing in a building that I paid for. Here's the funny part, his Office was paid for by the Yaxley Family as well."

"Filth," Violet spat out. "How did they even get you into a trial? Surely the Wizengamot know of your contributions to Magical Britain."

"They didn't want to offend this Mud-Blood," Corban shook his head. "The boy was passionate, I'll give him that. He went on and on about the rich paying a higher tax in order to help the country, which only served to make him look like an idiot because I have donated over two millions Galleons this year in order to fix up Magical Britain's damaged roads."

Corban then drew in a deep breath. Stay on task, Corban.

"My friends," Corban continued. "There was a time when the people of this country understood who built Magical Britain. They understood that we Pure-Bloods built the roads, the buildings, the different Districts, the charities, the schools, everything. We were respected once, but now… Now, we're being dragged off to trial for tax evasion."

"Unbelievable," George Selwyn shook his head.

"This can't stand," Alecto Carrow said, which earned her slow nods. They are already uniting under a common goal. Good. Time to get to the real topic.

"The British Ministry is nothing without us," Corban said, and every eye was fixed on him. "For too long they have disrespected us. For too long they have cast us aside in favor of Mud-Bloods and Blood-Traitors. For too long they have refused to respect the power that we wield. No more!"

"What are you suggesting?" Walden asked.

"Next week, once I have had a chance to find Lucius, we will both go to the Minister," Corban started. "And we will pull our funding from everything." I need Lucius for this, he holds more influence in the Ministry than all of us combined.

"What?" Felix Rosier finally spoke up. The youngest of us, and probably the sharpest. I need him on my side for this. "You will collapse this country if you do this. Our funding keeps the Districts running. Without us, the Goblins will buy everything out."

"Exactly," Corban said. "The Ministry has forgotten this simple fact, and Lucius and I will remind the Minister of it. The peace that they all enjoy has been bought and paid for by us! Not the Mud-Bloods! Not the fucking Blood-Traitors! Not the French! Us!"

"Here, here!" Crabbe and Goyle said loudly.

"If one Mud-Blood whelp can drag me off to a trial, the same can, and will, happen to all of you," Corban told them. "This is only the beginning, my friends. Ever since our Lord left us, we have been the victims of ridicule and disrespect. From here on out, things will only get harder for us. Things will not improve until we make a united stand. Now… I am not the Dark Lord, but I will do my part for us. Will you join me? Felix? What say you?"

Every eye landed on Felix Rosier, who simply looked around the room with a calm demeanor.

"The French should be sent back to France first, but not before we make charitable donations to their country," Felix said.

"Why on Earth would we do that?" Lucas Flint demanded.

"Let him speak," Corban said, his eyes fixed on the young Pure-Blood.

"Say what you will about the French, but they have given our Ministry a lot of money," Felix went on. "They have the moral high ground right now, but once we do the same, we'll be even. It will give us immunity from certain accusations."

"He's right," Corban nodded. Sharp lad. "Once we are even, we will tell the Minister to send the French on their way. It might become a little ugly, but in the long run, it benefits us greatly. Shall we take a vote?"

"There is no need for that, I think," Walden said. "We're with you, Corban." Excellent.

"Sending the French away is all well and good," Violet spoke up. "But what about the fool who brought them here?" Ronald Weasley… Yes, he'll need to be dealt with. "I say we kill him."

"Kill him?" George Selwyn cocked an eyebrow. "A Pure-Blood child?"

"He is a Blood-Traitor, one that needs to be put down," Violet sneered.

"My Lady, you seem quite disdainful of this boy," Corban said. "Any particular reason why?" We all know why. Your daughter runs around him like his personal slave.

"He has filled my daughter's head with nonsense," Violet told the others. "He has tricked her into his service." Violet then stood up, her shoulders squared. "Many of you were at Hogwarts on Sunday, and if you were, then you saw what my husband saw."

People traded slow looks, whereas Corban kept his eyes on Violet. I need to be careful with her. She might be rude, but she is well-spoken when she desires something.

"Ronald Weasley runs Slytherin House," Violet said, her eyes scanning the room. "They treat him like he's their king…"

"Not all of our children fell for his lies," Bartholomew Goyle said.

"Vincent and Gregory are good boys," Violet smiled at Crabbe and Goyle, and then she looked to Lucas. "Your son too, Lucas."

"Marcus knows where he stands," Lucas gave her a nod.

"I envy you," she spoke clearly. "My daughter has broken my heart with her weak will. She has embarrassed our Family name, and all for the friendship of a Blood-Traitor."

"You have our sympathies, Violet," Amycus said.

"Thank you," Violet gave him a nod before looking to Corban. "Corban, even your daughter has fallen prey to his silver tongue." She has indeed. "My husband told me that this boy split the skies apart with lightning."

"I was there," Lucas Flint said. "I saw it… She speaks the truth."

"This boy is far more powerful than we gave him credit for," Violet told Corban, who listened intently. "In the last two years, this boy has made a name for himself at an unprecedented rate. If we don't stop him now, he will become a threat to us. He already spills his bile in the ears of our children."

"Not to mention that he has turned Sebastian against us," Avery said.

"That traitor was always looking for a reason to distance himself from us," Thorfinn frowned deeply. "Him, and James… Both of them deserve to be dead."

"Ronald Weasley is the reason why the French are here," Violet continued. "He has even bought himself a large chunk of the Media. I humbly implore all of you to take notice of this threat, and then, to help me eliminate him."

"He may be a Blood-Traitor, but he is still a Pure-Blood," Felix said, and George Selwyn nodded his agreement. "There are not many of us left in the World."

"The Weasleys have many children," Corban said. "One less Weasley won't end their line."

"Then you agree with me?" Violet asked Corban, who gave a nod. She's right about this boy. We can't leave him to do as he pleases.

"How do we kill a student of Hogwarts?" Walden asked.

"For now, we wait," Violet replied. "We get rid of the French, we take away Weasley's position in the Ministry, and then, we make him meet an unfortunate end. This is the only way to get our children back."

"She's right," Alecto Carrow started. "If that Blood-Traitor is indeed running the House, then all of our children are being influenced by his traitorous beliefs. We ought to kill him as quickly as possible."

"Maybe his traitorous mother and father as well," Amycus grinned. Savages. One death is enough.

"I am not comfortable with murdering a child," Felix stood up. "I will help you get rid of the French, but after that, I am done with this conspiracy."

"Will you also help us in reestablishing our power?" Corban asked.

"Yes," Felix replied calmly.

"Then that is enough," Corban gave a nod. "I will not ask you to take part in anything that will darken your conscience."

"Thank you, my Lord," Felix said, and then he left the study without another word.

"I will take young Felix's lead on this," George Selwyn also stood up. "Killing children has never been my cup of tea."

"Weak old fool," Amycus sneered.

"Amycus," Corban shot a murderous look at the fool, who stopped sneering immediately. "Thank you for your help, George."

"Keep us in the loop," George said as he left.

Once Felix and George were well and truly gone, Corban looked to Violet, whose eyes were fixed on Corban. She's staring at me with a very familiar look.

"Let us discuss this 'unfortunate end' for Weasley," Corban said. "Any ideas?"

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Tuesday 15th December, 1993 (Chamber of Secrets – Late Night)

"So the toxins are completely gone?" Ron asked Chivvy, who gave a shaky nod.

"Lord Weasley, is this wise?" Chivvy asked once again.

"I'll be fine," Ron assured all the Elves. "I'm just going back there to have a look." And hopefully, find some more secrets.

"It isn't charted yet, Master," Marty tugged at Ron's robes. "At least take Marty with." You don't look like you want to go back there, though.

"Are you sure?" Ron asked.

"Yes…" Marty squeaked.

"Stay behind me at all times, then," Ron sighed out. "Right, I'm heading off. If I don't come back, tell my Family that I love them."

The Elves all gaped at him, their worries increased tenfold.

"That was a joke," Ron told them quickly. Not good timing, Ron. "I'm serious, I'll be fine. Please, go about your work."

With that said, Ron began making his way towards the dark mouth of Salazar Slytherin. Marty kept up with Ron's right leg, on his hands tugging at Ron's robes. I should reassure him, he looks absolutely terrified.

"Don't worry, Marty," Ron smiled at his Elf. "I doubt there's anything alive back there because of the toxin. If we do die, it'll be from something like a cave-in. It'll be instant. No pain."

Marty looked even more horrified, and Ron blinked at him.

"What?" Ron asked.

"This is Master's worst idea yet," Marty mumbled, and Ron grinned.

"It's an adventure," Ron sniggered. "My siblings and I used to go on adventures all the time when we were little. Bill once led us all the way to the Muggle village."

"This isn't a Muggle village," Marty whined.

"You know, you can stay behind," Ron said just as they neared the entrance. "I won't think less of you."

"Never," Marty said a little more firmly. "Marty cannot allow Master to go in there alone."

"Alright," Ron backed off. "Just stay close, yeah?"

"Yes," Marty agreed, hopping even closer to Ron's leg.

As they made their way inside, Ron quickly used 'Lumos' to turn his wand into a torch. That fucking stench, mate! Brush your fucking teeth, Salazar! Ron shot a look down at Marty, and he saw that his Elf was blocking his nose. Fuck this, we'll die from this smell before long.

"We're heading back out!" Ron ordered, and both of them ran straight back into the main chamber. "Ugh… That fucking stench…"

"Marty regrets being born with a nose!" Marty said in a nasally voice because he was still blocking his nose.

"My clothes smell like shite!" Ron frowned deeply. "Not a wise move on our part…"

"May Marty suggest a Bubble-Head Charm?" Marty suggested.

"What's that?" Ron asked, he hadn't heard of this Charm yet.

"Aer Bulla," Marty explained. "It will grant Master and Marty a bubble of fresh air."

"Really?" Ron asked, Marty knew Wizard Spells? Of course he does, he's a clever one. I'll have him write down his knowledge later for my consumption. "Go ahead, Marty. Show me this Charm."

Marty snapped his fingers, and a bubble of water appeared around their heads. Ron could see clearly enough through the bubble, but his head appeared enlarged to others. This is weird… Smell the air, Ron. Ron took in a deep breath, and it smelled quite fresh. Wow, that's handy.

"This can be used underwater as well?" Ron asked Marty, who gave a nod. "Amazing. Remind me to ask you about more Spells later."

"Marty would be proud to share," Marty smiled a bit.

"Right, let's get back to the adventure," Ron turned to face the mouth, and they both began making their way inside. "Lumos!"

With his wand providing them with light, Ron and Marty made their way deeper into the cave. Where does this corridor lead? Did the Basilisk live in here? If so, then this corridor might lead to a massive chamber. Ron felt his excitement grow, this place could be a treasure trove of knowledge. And it's all mine. They kept going further and further, and when they finally reached the last unlit torch, Marty stopped Ron.

"This is where Chivvy went back," Marty told Ron.

"So he cleared the toxin from here?" Ron looked around. "Could there be more toxin further up?"

"No," Marty shook his head. "Chivvy, and Chivvy's elves, banished the toxin from the premises."

"Then let's keep going," Ron said, and he managed two steps before he spotted a cave in to his right. "Wait… Is there where they found the chest?"

"It was in the rubble, Master," Marty told him. "The rest is buried for good."

"We can't excavate this?" Ron asked.

"Chivvy advises not to," Marty replied. "It could cause this place to fall apart." Damn, what a shame.

"Let' go, eh?" Ron said, and Marty nodded.

They continued making their way inside, and the further they got, the wider the corridor became, until eventually, Ron and Marty found themselves stepping into a large den of sorts. It was pitch black past a certain point, and Ron looked to Marty for help. The Elf snapped his fingers, which sent balls of light floating throughout the large dome-like structure.

"Merlin's beard…" Ron muttered as they looked around the place. It's fucking massive!

"There, Master," Marty pointed towards a nest made up of bones.

"A nest made of bones," Ron grimaced. "Looks like small animals… There must be thousands of bones in here."

"It was a large serpent, Master," Marty whimpered.

"That it was," Ron drew in a deep breath. "Let's go have a look."

"Have a look?" Marty squeaked, though he didn't leave Ron's side. "Oh… Marty has a bad feeling, Master…"

"It's alright," Ron said calmingly just as they approached the nest.

Ron aimed his wand up high in order to inspect the nest, and he saw odd glitters from the center of the nest. What is that? Ron began making his way into the nest, the sound of bones crunching beneath his feet. Ronald Weasley, Curse-Breaker extraordinaire!

"Master," Marty hissed, he wasn't following Ron.

"Just stay there, Marty," Ron whispered back. "Keep a look out, eh?"

"A look out," Marty started shooting nervous looks around him. "Marty can do that…"

Ron turned his focus back on the glittering objects at the center of the nest, and once he reached his destination, he kneeled down in order to get a better look. Are these…? Eggs? Ron slowly, and very carefully, wiped the dirt and grime off of the five eggs. Shiny. Ron looked each of the eggs over, and he realized that they were crystalized. How did that happen? What sort of eggs are these?

"Marty!" Ron called, and he heard his Elf squeal from fright. "Can eggs become crystalized?!"

"Marty does not know, Master!" Marty called back. "Is Master done yet?!"

"Yeah!" Ron began packing the eggs into his pouch, and once he was done, he started walking back to Marty. I'll try and find out more about eggs, I guess. Until then, Dumbledore's pouch ought to keep them safe. "Marty, let's go over there."

"Where?" Marty followed Ron's eyes towards a dated Alchemy table.

"I think Salazar might have spent a lot of time in here," Ron stated, and then he quickly began walking towards the Alchemy table.

The table was surrounded by rotten cages filled with frog bones, and Ron found himself grimacing at the grizzly sight. Did he experiment in here? Ron began looking around the Alchemy table, and his eyes quickly found some discarded pieces of parchment around it. Knowledge! Ron took possession of the papers immediately, his eyes scanning through them. These are rotten… The fucking toxin ruined them completely. Wait… What's that say?

"Herpo…" Ron read an emboldened word, and then he looked to Marty. "Does the word 'Herpo' ring any bells?"

"Herpo? Marty has heard that name…" Marty tried to remember. Name? Who is Herpo? And why was Salazar writing about him? "Can Master read anything else?"

"No," Ron sighed out. "I probably shouldn't even touch these."

With that, Ron tossed the rotten papers away. Herpo. I'll into this Herpo character. Maybe he was a friend of Salazar's.

"Is that a bed, Master?" Marty pointed towards the right.

"I think so," Ron walked over to the rotten bed, it had definitely seen better days. More ruined parchment. "Let's have a look around, Marty. This place is huge, and it could easily store the entire Hogwarts student body. I want to extend Chivvy's contract in order to turn this place into a livable space."

---

One Hour Later

In the end, they had found nothing of note. Everything in the Basilisk's lair was ruined by the toxin, and Ron found himself wondering where the toxin had come from. Chivvy had agreed to clear out the lair in order to turn it into a large vault for people, and it had only cost Ron forty Galleons. All in all, Ron still counted his adventure as a success. Plus, I found these strange eggs.

The eggs were the size of chicken eggs, but their greenish, crystal-like texture made Ron wary. Whatever these were, they were out of Ron's league. I need to hit the Library tomorrow. I wonder if we have an 'Egg Section'.

Ron leaned back in his favorite chair, the fire was drying him off from his extra-long shower. The Sanctuary had become his bedroom ever since his argument with Daphne, and Ron knew that eventually, his friends were going to come looking for him. I'll give them a couple of days at best. Maybe I should spend less time in here from tonight onwards? Actually, I still have work to do.

"Kreacher!" Ron called, and after a couple of seconds, Kreacher cracked into the room.

"Lord Weasley!" Kreacher bowed. Lord Weasley again?

"Kreacher, you can just call me Ron," Ron said.

"Kreacher is not comfortable with that, Lord Weasley," Kreacher kept bowing. "Kreacher apologizes profusely for his disobedience." Good Lord, that level of respect makes me uncomfortable.

"Alright," Ron said gently, and Kreacher took on his usual form. "I have a job for you, Kreacher. It could be dangerous."

"Kreacher will proudly serve Lord Weasley," Kreacher promised. He's cheating on Sirius with me… Ew! Why did I think that?! Damn you, brain! "Lord Weasley?"

"Do you know where Borgin and Burkes is?" Ron asked, and Kreacher gave a slow nod. "A man named Victor Burke works there. He's young, has black hair, and is quite handsome. You'll easily tell him apart from the other people of Knockturn Alley."

"Understood," Kreacher gave a firmer nod.

"I need you to approach him when he's alone," Ron said. "Tell him that I want to meet him on Thursday, after lunchtime. Tell him to bring the Artefact, he'll know what that means. You're to bring him to the Cliffside after you drop me off there."

"Kreacher understands," Kreacher bowed.

"And Kreacher… Secrecy is key," Ron told him. "You make sure that Victor understands that. Tell him that we're both still being watched."

"Watched?" Kreacher blinked.

"Don't worry about that," Ron gave a half-smile. "Just do this for me, please."

"Kreacher will see it done, Lord Weasley."

---

Rufus Scrimgeour's POV

Wednesday 16th December, 1993 (Albanian Ministry – Late Afternoon)

Rufus knocked on the shabby door, and he waited for a response.

"Come in," came Amelia's voice, and Rufus pushed the door open.

It scraped roughly against the floor, and once he was finally inside, he found Amelia cooped up in a tiny broom closet of an Office. Is this an actual broom closet? Rufus cocked an eyebrow at Amelia, who wore the dullest expression that he had ever seen. Right. Rufus pushed the door shut, and then he turned to face her again.

"Umbridge took it upon herself to find me an Office," Amelia told him, and Rufus rolled his eyes.

"You bureaucrats are a rough lot," Rufus said in a bored tone. "Here, I brought you a gift."

"A gift?" she asked, and he pulled out a bottle of Odgen's Finest from his robes. "Excellent idea, Rufus. Let's open it right now."

"It's the afternoon," he said, but he handed her the bottle nonetheless.

"I need a stiff drink, and judging by your unkempt hair, so do you," Amelia said, and then she Conjured up two glasses.

While she poured them a drink, Rufus leaned against the edge of her desk. This place wouldn't even pass as a broom closet in the British Ministry.

"Here," Amelia handed him his glass, her eyes lingering on the file in his left hand. "What's that?"

"My file on Ronald Weasley," Rufus replied. "But before we discuss him, I want to know what's going on with my Aurors. Why are you pulling them all here?"

"The Gaia Project is coming to a close," Amelia told him. Finally. "It will be remembered as the most costly project in Wizarding History."

"Let me guess, the bandits of this country caught wind of that," Rufus frowned, and she gave him a nod. "My Aurors have trained to fight Dark Wizards, Amelia… This is beneath them."

"Minister's orders, Rufus," Amelia took a sip of her drink.

"Are they at least getting paid for this?" Rufus asked.

"No," she told him bluntly. Unbelievable. "The Minister gave them a speech about 'serving one's country', and that was that. If they refused after that, their careers would be over."

"I've asked you to keep your bureaucratic nonsense away from my Aurors," Rufus said, and then he downed his glass.

"Even I can't send the Minister on his way, Rufus," Amelia took his glass and filled it. "How are things in Britain?"

"Getting worse," Rufus replied as he took the glass back. "Some sick fuck impaled a decapitated head on a spike on the outskirts of Knockturn Alley."

"Did you manage to identify the head?" Amelia rubbed her forehead.

"No, it was stolen," Rufus replied.

"Stolen?" Amelia looked both annoyed and confused.

"The Vampires took it, we think," Rufus told her. "It's your fault for leaving me with idiots like that Tonks girl."

"Jane says that Tonks is one of her best," Amelia countered.

"She nearly broke her legs by slipping down some stairs," Rufus grit out. I wanted to fire her on the spot. "Anyway… Whoever this dead man was, he was important. A handful of Vampires have left Knockturn Alley, but the ones who remained behind are becoming more violent. Some poor bastard got dragged out of his shop just this morning. They burned down his house." And we couldn't even do anything about it.

"The moment I come back, we're cleaning up our streets," Amelia told him. "I want five squads of five, and I want them to arrest every Vampire in Knockturn Alley. We'll interrogate them, and then ship them out of the country if they're not British Citizens."

"That might not go over well," Rufus said. "Mass deportation never does."

"These are Vampires, so the Ministry will back us," Amelia said. "Had they been peaceful, we would've allowed them to stay. But burning down houses? No, that can't stand." I agree.

"We'll wait until Hogwarts reopens," Rufus said. "If things turn ugly, I don't want children anywhere near Diagon Alley."

"I agree with that," Amelia consented. "When you get home, start allocating the resources needed."

"With that all out of the way, here," Rufus handed Amelia the file on Ronald Weasley. "Take a look."

Amelia opened the file and began looking through it, while Rufus just sipped his drink. After nearly a minute of silence, Amelia look to Rufus.

"This isn't much," she told him.

"He's careful," Rufus said.

"He's thirteen," Amelia sighed and shook her head.

"I went to Gringotts, and they shut me out," Rufus said, and Amelia looked back to him. "Yeah… He's paid their tax, just like his fellow Pure-Bloods. Now, why would a child pay that tax?"

"His accounts are shady," Amelia stroked her chin.

"Guaranteed," Rufus said. "Did you have a look at 'Marty'?"

"He has an Elf," Amelia looked at the copy of the Elf Purchase Letter.

"An Elf that also works in Hogwarts," Rufus said. "This little bastard has a spy running around the school. Tell me that that's not reason to be suspicious of Ronald Weasley. This 'Marty' belonged to Sebastian Greengrass beforehand, and he has been sighted in Knockturn Alley by our informants."

"He was buying, or selling?" Amelia asked.

"Both," Rufus replied. "This Elf is good at this sort of stuff, and I know that Ronald Weasley uses him for nefarious purposes."

"The next time your informants see this 'Marty' in Knockturn Alley, bring him in for questioning," Amelia ordered.

"Consider it done," Rufus gave an approving nod. "I also looked into Ronald Weasley's medical records, and get this, he has Brain-Damage."

"What? How did you-?" Amelia started, but then she stopped. "Do I want to know?"

"I found the Healer who fixed him up after his run-in with the Veelas," Rufus told her. "I bribed him."

"Merlin, Rufus!" Amelia shot a look towards the door. "You can't fucking do shit like this anymore!"

"Relax," Rufus said calmingly.

"No, you're not in a war anymore," she frowned deeply. "If Ronald Weasley finds out about this, he'll cause a scandal for us. Don't forget that he's threatened me with his magazine before."

Amelia then looked back to the file, her brow furrowed.

"You feel sorry for him now?" Rufus asked.

"How did he get the Brain-Damage?" Amelia asked him, choosing to ignore Rufus' enquiry.

"The injury that put him in a coma," Rufus replied. "Some 'Spell' gone wrong…"

"The Dark Arts?" Amelia asked.

"Looks like it," Rufus replied. "According to the Healer, Weasley's body is covered in scars from his accident. Oh, and he suffers from Chronic Stress, which inadvertently is making his Brain-Damage worse. This boy is a ticking clock."

"He's dying," Amelia looked almost remorseful for a moment. She's always been the soft one between us.

"He might die," Rufus corrected. "Until he does, he has to obey the laws of the living."

"Can you really do nothing about his accounts?" Amelia asked.

"The Goblins will never betray a paying client," Rufus replied. "I'm pretty sure that Weasley isn't going to run out of money anytime soon. He is dating Sebastian Greengrass' daughter, after all."

"Do you think she knows about her boyfriend's… illness?" Amelia asked.

"Maybe, maybe not," Rufus shrugged. "Either way, I don't really care about her. She seems like just another thirteen year old to me."

"Any leads left to follow?" Amelia asked him as she handed the file back.

"No," Rufus replied. "I plan to pass this case off to someone else for now."

"What?" Amelia blinked.

"I have actual investigations to follow through," Rufus admitted. "This case is optional, so I'm passing it off to an old friend."

"Who?" Amelia asked.

"Alastor," Rufus stood up, and then he downed his glass. "Alastor can be trusted to be discreet, and with his paranoia, he'll see this through." And he owes me.

"I don't like this plan," Amelia said bluntly. "That man's marbles are completely lost. We can't afford this getting out."

"This kid split the skies open with lightning on Sunday, and he fired said lightning Wandlessly," Rufus told her, and she looked quite taken aback. "The French were there, and so were hundreds of other people. Word is getting out about his newest achievement. You remember our chat about Dark Lords?"

"Ronald Weasley is clearly on his way out," Amelia said. "I'm sorry, Rufus… I'm shutting this down. We just can't afford this coming back to us. Not only will we get fired, but the entire Ministry will be butchered over the papers." Politics…

"What if I take full-?"

"No," she refused. "Shut it down, Rufus. Leave him alone." Fuck, I shouldn't have shown her his medical record. "Look… I need you on the bigger cases, alright? Right now, our crime rate is turning us into a laughing stock. The Minister expects us to clean up his mess, and if we're too busy investigating a dying boy, it'll be the end of our Department. I know you don't like Politics, but this time, you have to follow orders from up high."

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Thursday 17th December, 1993 (Cliffside – After Lunch)

Ron reread Barnabas' letter, it looked like Ron had a dinner date tonight. Tonight, I'll finally be rid of him. I hope.

Sadly, Ron had been unable to bring himself to spend time with his friends, all of whom were too busy with their own plans for Christmas. Theo had a million questions about the Burrow, Pansy and Blaise were dreading returning home, Tracey was 'keen' to have a sleepover with Ginny, Millie was reading up on skiing, Malfoy was being quieter than usual, and Daphne… I don't know about her plans. I don't know how to approach her without her acting distant. I just have to keep trying, that's what the book says. I need to be patient, and understanding. Just like she is with me when I'm in one of my moods.

The sound of a whip-cracking pulled him out of his thoughts, and Ron turned to face Victor and Kreacher.

"Nice place," Victor smiled as he looked around, he had a black, metallic box in his hands. A box with dozens of purple Runes. That must be the Artefact. "Very private, and the weather is nice."

"No one knows that you're here?" Ron asked. "I have to be sure. The Aurors are very interested in us both."

"Not even my uncle knows, Ronald," Victor said truthfully. "Don't worry, I'm very careful." He's pulling one over his uncle, isn't he?

"Good," Ron walked over to Victor. "Is that it, then?"

"It is," Victor put the box down, while Kreacher just watched from the back. "Doesn't look like much, I know, but I've tested it out."

"Tested it out?" Ron cocked an eyebrow.

"On rats," Victor 'smiled', but Ron wasn't pleased. Fucking creep. I bet he got off watching those rats die.

"How does it work?" Ron asked.

"Simple," Victor bent down. "See this blue switch here?" Ron leaned down, and then he gave a nod. "Press the switch, and a vial container pops out."

Victor then pressed the button, and after a few clinks and clanks, a vial container came out of the side. Woah… It's almost Muggle in its ingenuity.

"Pour poison into this vial, push the container shut, and the box turns the poison into an airborne toxin," Victor went on. "When you want to release said toxin, you press this black button on top. After a couple of minutes, it will disperse the murderous gas."

"Any poison will do?" Ron asked.

"I haven't tested every poison, but all the common ones work just fine," Victor stood up. "Whoever made this box clearly had a lot of enemies. See the Rune-Work? Protective Charms. Once activated, the box disappears until its job is done. You can't detect it with any form of Revealing Spell."

"A perfect weapon," Ron drew in a deep breath. Maybe I should just destroy it? If it falls into the enemy's hands, we're fucked. "How much do you want to charge for it?"

"Twenty thousand is the lowest I'll go," Victor said.

"Twenty fucking thousand?!" Ron frowned. "Who would buy that?"

"You've clearly never sold an Artefact of the Wizards of Old," Victor laughed at Ron, making Ron's frown deeper. "Trust me, twenty thousand is a very good price."

"You want it gone that badly, then?" Ron asked. Do I see a window of opportunity?

"Like you said, the Aurors are very interested in me," Victor shrugged. "They have been asking after my Vault information, and just the other day, I spotted an informant peering into my shop."

"Well…" Ron smirked slowly. "I guess I'm your only hope, eh?"

"As much as it pains me to admit it, yes," Victor 'smiled'. "Some Artefacts are too hot to move without unwanted attention, and this fell into my lap while I was under investigation. A damn shame…" Victor then eyed Ron's smirk. "You want more money?"

"If it is as dangerous to move as you claim, then yes," Ron replied.

"You can thirty five percent," Victor said, he truly needed this object gone.

"And information?" Ron asked.

"That too," Victor agreed.

"I want the information now," Ron said. "Think of it as a down payment."

"You're getting greedy," Victor said coldly, and then he smirked. "I like it. Very well, what information do you want?"

"Knockturn Alley," Ron replied. "What the fuck is happening down there?"

"Fang-geddon," Victor laughed, though it was a cold laugh. Don't shudder, Ron. "Vampires, Ronald… They're everywhere. In the streets, the shops, the corners, the inns, and the houses." An army?

"How many in total?" Ron asked.

"A couple hundred, at least," Victor said. "Actually… No, not a couple hundred anymore."

"What happened?"

"Someone left a head impaled on a spike on the outskirts of Knockturn Alley," Victor told him. Didn't Dumbledore tell me that Emilia brought a head back from Brussels? That crazy bitch… "Whoever this head belonged to was clearly important. A lot of Vampires packed their bags and left, while the others are ravenous for revenge. Looks like war is coming." You have no fucking idea, mate.

"Have they attacked people yet?" Ron asked.

"Some poor bastard got killed today," Victor replied, and Ron closed his eyes. Another dead body. "Don't feel bad for some random, Ronald… It's pathetic."

"Whatever," Ron shook his head clear. "What else is going on in Knockturn Alley?"

"Nothing else, really," Victor replied. "The Vampires are the only big game in town, but they're not exactly after power."

"Explain," Ron said.

"Well, when a crime boss moves in, they take over completely," Victor said. "These Vampires are not interested in taking over… They just prowl the streets, and harass the population. People go missing, but there are no Aurors to investigate. Petty thieves have taken to the streets, and prostitutes are charging a king's ransom to spread their legs for dead men. Everything's gone to shit ever since these Vampires moved in." Bloody hell. "But you know what I think?"

"What?" Ron asked slowly.

"I think this chaos is by design," Victor smirked. "Whoever is in charge is creating problems for the sake of creating problems. They clearly want the Aurors distracted, because eventually, the Aurors will have to clean up Knockturn Alley. Someone is playing a very intricate game here, Ronald, and I want to meet this person."

"Of course you do," Ron said, he remembered Priscilla's story. He sent her off to a Vampire Den, right? I bet he sold her away as a favor. Wait… That happened before this new Vampire boss showed up. He sold her for the sake of earning some random Vampire's favor…

"What's wrong?" Victor asked, and Ron said nothing. I don't want to make deals with this person. It makes me feel sick. "Ronald?"

"I'll take the box, and you'll get your money," Ron said with a dead-tone. Pandora would spit on you for this, Ron.

"I'll get my money, and then, you can have the box," Victor stepped into Ron's face. "Careful, Ronald… I like you, but you don't want to fuck with me."

"Relax, alright?" Ron didn't back off. "I need the box as proof. The person I'm dealing with is a fucking psychopath, and I don't want to piss them off." I really don't. My head would not look good on a spike.

"How can I trust you?" Victor asked.

"I'm here, aren't I?" Ron replied, a hint of anger in his voice.

"Yes, but you don't want to be here, do you?" Victor asked coldly. "I can see it in your face… You think you're too 'good' to be making deals with me."

"That's inconsequential," Ron said. "I don't like my position right now, but I'm still here. I do what has to be done."

"Tsk," Victor clicked his tongue. "You're not that different from me. I bet you've done things that I myself would do. I mean, look at you haggling over money, all the while complaining about making a deal with someone like me. You're a little hypocrite, aren't you?"

Ron just stared at Victor, he had half a mind to clock the fucker.

"How's that Tome of mine serving you?" Victor asked. "The one you bought from me after you met Priscilla?" Don't mention her name, cunt.

"Can I just have the box?" Ron asked. "I will give you your money once I have it."

"Fine," Victor took a step back. "But…"

"What is it?" Ron drew in a deep breath. Calm, Ron. Be calm.

"I've decided to add another condition to our deal," Victor said playfully. "I want you to shake my hand."

"What?" Ron blinked.

"Shake my hand, and look me in the eye," Victor 'smiled'. "I want you to remember this, Ronald."

"Just give me the fucking box," Ron clenched his jaw.

"Shake my hand," Victor put his hand forward, and Ron's eyes darted to Kreacher. If I start a fight, Kreacher could get hurt. Something tells me that Victor is a dangerous Duelist.

"You…" Ron started, but then he stopped.

There was no other option, was there? He'll end the deal for certain if I don't shake his hand, he's too proud to not get his way. This box could end up in the wrong hands. Fuck…

Ron slowly took Victor's hand, and the handsome young man smiled widely.

"Criminal," Victor all but whispered, but Ron heard him clear as day.

Victor's smile widened even more, his twisted emotions coming to the surface. What the…? Ron began feeling lightheaded, and when his stomach began to float, his mind went on full alert.

---

Ron found himself standing within Borgin and Burkes, there was not a hint of color in sight. A vision? Entity, you're still helping? There was no response, as usual, and Ron couldn't help but wonder about the God living inside his head. Are you too weak to even talk? Is giving me visions hurting you further? Ron didn't know how he felt about that, but the petty part of him was quite happy. The Entity had tormented hundreds of Ronald Weasleys, so it was past time that it got some just desserts.

Ron suddenly spotted colors to his left, and he turned to see Victor entering the shop from the back. He looks the exact same, so this isn't too far away from today. Ron approached Victor calmly, his eyes looking for any special details. Victor was reading a Daily Prophet article with a small smirk on his face, and so Ron decided to take a look at what Victor was reading. I can at least get the date from it. The moment Ron saw the title, his jaw dropped.

"Newly Elected Minister, Amelia Bones, killed in Ministry Assault…" Ron read the title from behind Victor. We got her elected? And then, she died?

Ron swallowed thickly, his eyes darting towards Victor's pleased face. Why is he happy about this? Could he be working for the Death-Eaters? Ron quickly looked for a date, and his gut tightened at the sight of it. 7th of December, 1995. Fucking hell, that's only months after Pandora's death. Wait… Amelia Bones won't get elected until 1995? That's ages away! This was a confusing vision, and Ron decided to investigate it further.

"Auror forces annihilated… Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, found dead near Minister Bones…" Ron all but whispered. "The Order of the Phoenix arrived on scene, but were swiftly defeated as well… Lord Sirius Orion Black, Lord Sebastian Greengrass, Arthur Weasley, Xenophilius Lovegood, Amos Diggory, Max McDean, Cedric Diggory, Clara Martyris, and former Auror, Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody counted amongst the dead… The search for lost loved ones continues…" Dad died?! Sirius… Lord Greengrass… Xeno… No. No, this cannot happen.

Ron felt his head spin, and he took a shaky step back. What was this assault? I need to tell Dumbledore about this as soon as possible! The old man needs to know what's coming. Ron shook his head clear, and then he drew in a deep breath. Relax, Ron. It's only a vision. Dad will be just fine. You'll protect him. You'll protect them all. Just as Ron was regaining his senses, the front door swung open. Both Ron and Victor looked to the visitor, and Ron's blood froze. Bellatrix Lestrange, Draco's potential murderer, had just walked in with a childlike smile on her face.

"Good evening, Lady Lestrange," Victor put the paper away, while she stepped further into the shop. Lady Lestrange? He knows her?

The way she walked around with a carefree smile scared the life out of Ron. She's so… innocent looking… But at the same time, her eyes are shark-like. Heavy, and unmoving.

"Vicky!" Bellatrix came to an abrupt stop, her smile widening. "My handsome little informant!" Informant?!

Ron glared murder at Victor's back. You filth… You did this?!

"Are you here to buy, or to sell?" Victor asked her with a smile of his own.

"I'm here to thank you," she looked around the shop with a dreamy look. "You have proven your worth a hundred times over."

"Thank you," Victor gave a respectful nod. "I only wish to show the Dark Lord my complete devotion." You fucking bastard.

"You're a smooth talker," Bellatrix let out a giggle. "Maybe I should wear your tongue around my neck for good luck?"

Both Ron and Victor blinked at her, but she just laughed casually.

"That was a joke, my pet," Bellatrix said, though her eyes sent a different message. Why isn't she in Azkaban? Fuck me dead, the Future has gone to shite! "Our enemies will never recover from our most recent assault, and I've come here to collect you."

"Collect me?" Victor asked.

"The Dark Lord wishes to thank you in person," Bellatrix hummed, and Ron saw genuine fear cross Victor's face. "Don't worry, Vicky, he is pleased with you. You have finally earned your Mark."

"I have?" Victor's eyes were filled with greed. You motherfucker!

Ron was shaking with rage, he had heard enough to get a clear picture of what Victor had done. He's behind this assault on the Ministry, isn't he? That's why he's so pleased. That's why he's 'earned' his Mark.

"He wishes to Mark you himself," Bellatrix said, her voice cracking in an odd manner. "This is a great honor, Victor, I expect you to understand that."

"I do, my Lady," Victor said quickly. "I will not disappoint you."

"You haven't yet," she said, her voice had returned to normal. "So much intel, and all of it was useful to our cause. There is one teeny, weeny problem, though…"

"Problem?" Victor asked slowly. He's terrified of her, I can see it on his face. There is no smugness in his voice, and he is listening to her with rapt attention.

"Ronald Weasley…" Bellatrix hissed, her mood completely shifting. Me? "The boy was not at the Lovegood Residence as you promised." Lovegood Residence? The Rookery?

Horror dawned on Ron, and his eyes slowly drifted towards Victor.

"You…" Ron muttered. "You were behind that?"

"He told me that he was going to be there," Victor said quickly, but Bellatrix's gaze had already turned cruel. I did? Why would I tell you something like that?! Wait… Pandora, and her Family, are still in danger? "It took me months to find out where the Lovegoods live, and I told you as soon as I found out."

"But he wasn't there," Bellatrix said. "This is the third time he's escaped us, and you are his informant, are you not?" What the fuck?

"I only serve the Dark Lord," Victor assured her. "Did I not deliver this most recent victory to you? Did I not give you Emilia Travers? I even located Solomon for you at great personal risk." Emilia too? Motherfucker! And who the fuck is Solomon?

"But you give Ronald Weasley information as well," Bellatrix cocked her head. "Tsk… Tsk… Tsk…"

"I give him what you want me to give him," Victor said firmly, though his fear was easy to see. "I swear on my Magic." Is he playing me in the Future? How? Did I lose my fucking marbles, or something?

"Relax," she suddenly broke into a smile, taking both Ron and Victor by surprise. "I can see that you're telling me the truth, my pet. Come, the Dark Lord awaits."

Victor slowly walked around the counter, and Bellatrix took him by the arm.

"There will be a Mud-Blood at the ceremony," Bellatrix told Victor. "You must kill him in order to prove yourself."

"You've seen me kill their kind before," Victor said. Scum.

"This is for the Dark Lord, Vicky," Bellatrix giggled. "He must see your conviction, just as I have."

As they both exited the shop, Ron began feeling lightheaded. Borgin and Burkes broke apart around him, and Ron was flung back into the present.

---

Thursday 17th December, 1993 (Cliffside – After Lunch)

"Ronald? Are you still with me?" came Victor's voice, and Ron just blinked at him. I'm back… "You can let go of my hand now, handsome. I'm not interested." Smug little fuck!

Ron tightened his hold on Victor's hand, something had snapped in Ron's head. I don't know if he was playing me in the Future, but he clearly has his fingers in everyone's pie. He only cares about himself, just ask Priscilla. In this moment, Ron's mind was made up.

Victor Burke had reached the end of his life.

"Have you seen Priscilla?" Ron asked, his voice far too calm even for his own liking.

"Priscilla? The whore?" Victor gave a confused smile. Whore? She is a good person, and she protects her loved ones the only way she knows how. "Haven't heard a word about her for a while. Don't tell me that you're interested in used goods, Ronald. I'm sure plenty of girls at Hogwarts would love to suck your cock." Keep talking, filth… Keep feeding the flames.

"I heard that you sent her away to a Vampire Den," Ron said, and Victor just blinked at him. "Is it true, Vicky?"

"Vicky?" Victor cocked an eyebrow.

"Did you send her away?" Ron asked.

"She chose to go," Victor tried to pull his hand away.

"What about the children she looks after?" Ron asked, his grip tightening. Don't you care about them? No… Why would you?

"What the fuck is your problem?" Victor asked, a hint of worry in his voice. "Who the fuck cares about some Squibs?"

"I care," Ron's voice began shaking, his eyes digging into Victor's. "They're just little kids… They love her to pieces, Victor… You nearly orphaned them again, and for what? Some favor from a Vampire?"

"Let go," Victor snarled.

"You know, in moments like these, a decent person might give into hesitation, or even pity," Ron said, he was so angry that he just couldn't stop. "They might think to themselves that 'Hey, maybe I can help change this person for the better'…"

"Are you insane?" Victor was utterly lost.

"But I'm not that sort of person," Ron went on. "Some people can't be changed… They're too far gone… Maybe you really were on my side in the Future, we'll never know." Victor looked truly baffled. "All I know is that you killed my dad…"

"What?"

"YOU KILLED OUR DAD!" Ron screamed, his muscles going through the changes of Cutis Terra.

Victor didn't even have time to react before Ron's left fist smashed into his face, shard of teeth and spurts of blood were sent flying through the air. Kreacher let out a shriek as Victor dropped onto his back with a completely dazed look, and Ron was on top of him within a heartbeat.

"YOU KILLED OUR PANDORA!" Ron smashed his right fist into Victor's skull, the sound of crunching bone rang throughout the open field.

"You killed our Luna!" Ron smashed his left fist down.

"You killed our Godson!" Ron smashed his right fist down, he no longer cared about anything but exacting his revenge. "Lord Greengrass! Xeno! Sirius! Clara! Cedric! Max!" Ron raised his bloody fists into the air. "Here is your payment, Death-Eater!"

Ron's fists smashed down onto Victor's shattered skull, and meaty chunks blew out of the side of Victor's head. Not yet! Leave no chance of survival!

"Glacius," Ron chanted as he grabbed onto what was left of Victor's handsome face.

Ice shot out of Ron's left hand, and before long, Victor's bloodied head was covered in frost. Ron stood up, and he brought his heel down onto Victor's mangled forehead. It was disturbing, and empowering, how easily Ron's foot went through Victor's frozen skull, and when Ron pulled his foot back out, chunks of brain could be found all over Ron's shoe.

"Rot in the Oblivion of the Void, you degenerate," Ron laughed cruelly, a maniacal grin on his face.

---

Ten Minutes Later

Blood dripped down his knuckles and chin, he could feel its warmth soaking into his school robes. I'm covered in it… I'm covered in blood… The blood of a Death-Eater.

Ron looked ahead slowly, his mind was losing its focus. I need to get back to Hogwarts, don't I? But first, I have to clean this up.

How had it come to this? He got so many people killed, and he was proud of himself. His only desire was to earn his fucking Mark.

He couldn't remember right now. No, I do remember… I did it to put an end to a degenerate piece of filth.

All he knew was that he felt no remorse whatsoever, and he never would. Never.

Ron straightened his soaking wet robes, and then he looked to Kreacher. The Elf was clutching his head as he bowed with his forehead against the ground. He's shaking with fear. It was odd that Ron felt guilty for scaring Kreacher, but he felt nothing in regards to Victor. The once handsome young wizard had finally stopped twitching, his blood had already begun to seep into the Earth. Get rid of the body, Ron. Do it now!

Ron reached down, and he grabbed onto Victor's bloodied collar. With the strength he had acquired from years of exercise, Ron easily dragged the dead body towards the edge of the cliff. Once there, Ron pulled out his wand and aimed it at what was left of Victor.

"Rumpere," Ron chanted, and Victor's bones began to shatter in a horrible manner.

The sound made Ron feel queasy, but he didn't look away. He watched with perfect clarity as Victor's chest caved in on itself, effectively crushing the wizard into a mangled, fleshy cube with appendages sticking out.

"The forest animals can have you," Ron said, and then he pushed the body off of the cliff with his bloody right foot.

Victor fell, and he fell, and then, he hit the ground with a loud thud. Ron could see more blood pooling around Victor's shattered remains, and he couldn't help but wonder how much blood a person had in them. Must be a lot, considering that Victor won't stop leaking. Ron shook his head clear, and then he walked back to a shivering Kreacher.

"Kreacher," Ron called as he picked up the Artefact.

"Lord Weasley?" Kreacher finally raised his head, and when he saw Ron's bloodied form, the Elf put his forehead on the ground again. Is he worshiping me?

The thought sickened Ron a little, but he decided not to scare the Elf any further. I've already done a number on him, so I need to be as gentle as possible.

"Kreacher, please look at me," Ron said gently, and the Elf looked back up. "I am so sorry that you saw that side of me again… Please, I won't hurt you."

"Kreacher knows," Kreacher slowly stood back up, his big eyes darting towards the large pool of blood. "Lord Weasley killed the handsome Burke…"

"Yes, I did," Ron said far too easily. Shouldn't I feel guilty? Victor was still a human being. No, I've killed before. Victor was just a different sort of animal, that's all. "We need to get back to Hogwarts."

"Lord Weasley cannot go back looking like this," Kreacher looked back to Ron.

Ron looked down at himself, and he grimaced. Fuck, he's dead right. I'm completely covered in gore. It's still warm… Ron quickly began taking his clothes off, he couldn't care less about his scars right now. Once Ron was in nothing but his boxers, he looked back to Kreacher. The Elf was just staring at Ron's scars, his fear had returned to his face.

"Kreacher, I need you to hide these at your house," Ron ordered. "Wash them as soon as possible, leave no traces of blood. I have Astronomy tonight."

"Astro… Astronomy?" Kreacher mumbled.

"Astronomy class," Ron clarified. "Here."

Kreacher took the robes, and Ron picked up the Artefact again.

"Kreacher will have these washed within the hour," Kreacher croaked, and then he cracked away without another word. Wait… Did he just leave me here?

"Fuck!" Ron yelled out. "He panicked and bolted on me?!"

Ron looked around with an angry look, and when his eyes landed on the blood-soaked ground, he felt a tremor pass through his hands. Ron slowly looked down at his hands, and he realized that he was still wearing his glove and serpent ring. Daphne gave me these… They're covered in blood. I'm still covered in blood. A bit of panic began to course through his body, but when Kreacher cracked back onto the Cliffside, Ron immediately found himself distracted.

"You're back," Ron let out a relieved sigh. "I need you to go to the Sanctuary, the place where you picked me up from, and check if it's clear. If there's no one there, come back and fetch me."

"Kreacher obeys," Kreacher bowed, and then he Disapparated again.

Ron waited for a few seconds, and Kreacher returned with a resolute look on his old, wrinkly face.

"Is it clear?" Ron asked quickly.

"It is clear, Lord Weasley," Kreacher put his bony hand forward, and Ron took it without hesitation.

Ron was pulled through a thin pipe, and when he reopened his eyes, he was standing in the Sanctuary. The familiarity of his safe haven calmed him down even more, and Ron drew in a couple of long breaths. Think, Ron. Think, and then act.

"Kreacher, go to the Kitchens of Hogwarts," Ron looked to the Elf. "Find an Elf named Marty, and tell him that I sent you. Tell him that I need a clean suit, the whole thing. Shoes included. Tell him to look through Theodore Nott's trunk, he has Calming Draughts stored away for me. Tell Marty to bring me one vial of Calming Draught." Relax, Ron. Stop blurting out information so quickly.

"Kreacher will see this done, Lord Weasley," Kreacher promised, and once Ron gave him a nod, the Elf cracked away to fulfil his mission.

"Alright…" Ron muttered as he ran over to the bed.

Ron kneeled down, and he pulled out Salazar's empty chest. I think the Artefact can fit in here. I'll need to come up with a plan for it, but for now, I just need to take a shower. I can never speak of what happened today. Luckily, Kreacher understands this as well.

---

Thursday 17th December, 1993 (The Headmaster's Office – After Classes)

Watching Dumbledore pace back and forth was putting Ron to sleep. I wonder how he'd react if I told him that I just killed a man? I bet he'd stun me on the spot. Ron had told Dumbledore that he had experienced a vision as he walked past Theo, and in said vision, Ron had seen the terrible things to come on a Daily Prophet issue. Since then, the old man had been pacing.

"You are too often the herald of grave news, dear boy," Dumbledore finally broke his silence. "I fear that you witnessed the end of our Ministry of Magic."

"1995," Ron clicked his tongue. "The end cometh. Hide your children, people."

Dumbledore looked to Ron with a furrowed brow, but Ron just stared right back at him. What? I'm right, aren't I?

"Ronald, are you under the influence of a Potion?" Dumbledore asked.

"I am," Ron admitted. "A Calming Draught, to be exact. I drank the whole vial, so I'll be an arsehole until tomorrow morning." Hehe, what's his reaction to my words?

Dumbledore looked back forward, his brow still furrowed. I didn't expect indifference.

"Your vision scared you," Dumbledore nodded to himself, and Ron simply stared at him. He just gave me my excuse.

"I'm only human," Ron said, taking advantage of the situation. "Too many deaths for my liking."

"We will avoid this calamity, I promise you," Dumbledore calmed himself down, and then he shot Ron a paternal smile. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I believe that we must tell Amelia about the upcoming war as soon as possible."

"So she can become Minister sooner?" Ron asked.

"Yes."

"That could work," Ron hummed. "She should be Minister before the Dark Lord breaks his followers out. That way, she won't die on the 7th of December, 1995."

"Are you sure Bellatrix was sighted at this attack?" Dumbledore asked. I'm sure she was there when it went down.

"Her name was written on the Daily Prophet," Ron lied. "The Death-Eaters in Azkaban were freed before December, 1995. Now… I still advocate killing them before it's too late."

"Ronald, until Severus returns, we will not discuss this matter," Dumbledore said. "Breaking into Azkaban will be difficult enough, not to mention that the killing of the defenseless does not agree with me." The defenseless?

"The innocents of Magical Britain are the defenseless ones, Headmaster," Ron said plainly. "Death-Eater filth is anything but defenseless."

"Filth?" Dumbledore looked mildly concerned. Isn't that what they call anyone who is different from them?

"Sorry, poor choice of words," Ron 'smiled', and Dumbledore just gave a slow nod. "We still have a little time, Headmaster, but I implore you to think on this." Ron then stood up. "We can't have regrets in the Future."

"I know," Dumbledore looked to Fawkes, a thoughtful look on his face. "Before you go, I have to tell you that Madam Pomfrey came to me about you. From today onwards, you will need a supervisor if you want to leave Hogwarts."

"What?" Ron asked coldly.

"Poppy told me that you could suffer a seizure out there, and if someone isn't with you, it could be fatal," Dumbledore said. "She is right, and I was a fool not to consider that. I am sorry, my boy, but my decision can't be changed." Great going with the seizures, Entity. You have once again fucked me over.

"I have dinner plans with Barnabas Cuffe tonight," Ron said, he knew that arguing about this wouldn't change a thing. I can still use Marty if I really need privacy.

"Professor Sprout is free tonight," Dumbledore said. "I will ask her if she is willing to supervise you."

"And if she isn't?" Ron asked.

"Then I will take you myself," Dumbledore replied.

"Can't you take me anyway? I'd rather you watch over me than Professor Sprout," Ron said.

"I have report cards to finish writing," Dumbledore told him. "Congratulations, by the way. You got an Outstanding in everything but Herbology."

"Exceeds Expectations?" Ron asked.

"Yes," Dumbledore gave a nod.

"Fuck," Ron frowned a little, and then he turned to leave. "A damn Exceeds Expectations? I hate Herbology…"

"Focus on it more during the next term," Dumbledore couldn't help but smile a little.

"I will," Ron said as he closed the door behind him. It's been a busy six months for me, but that's just an excuse. I can do better than 'Exceeds Expectations'. Wait a minute… He said that Professor Sprout might be taking me to Diagon Alley tonight. Maybe I can ask her for an extra assignment over the Holidays, and in return, she could bump me up to an Outstanding.

As Ron made his way towards the Moving Staircase, he decided that his Brain-Damage could help him in his latest scheme. I'll pretend to be a wounded animal, and hopefully, she'll give me a chance to fix my grade. With his mind made up, Ron walked down the stairs with a bored expression. Just as he passed by the fifth floor, he saw the Golden Trio walking up to him. I'm not invisible, am I? Damn, they'll have questions.

"Ron?" Neville noticed him, and both Harry and Hermione stopped talking.

"Hello," Ron greeted, but he didn't break his stride. Be completely casual, Ron.

"Were you up on the seventh floor again?" Harry asked, and Ron stopped walking. Harry 'the Auror' Potter.

"I was," Ron nodded. "The Headmaster wanted to talk to me about my… grades…" Grades?

"Is something wrong with them?" Hermione asked, and Ron got the feeling that she was a little excited. Probably just my imagination.

"No, they're perfect," Ron lied. "The Headmaster was just really pleased with me, that's all."

Harry and Hermione nodded slowly, while Neville gave Ron's arm a pat.

"Congratulations, Ron," Neville smiled, and Ron 'smiled' back. "Right… Um…" Too creepy? Sorry, mate.

"Ron, are you feeling alright?" Harry asked. Should I fuck with them a little? Sure, why not?

"It's my medicine," Ron told them, and they tensed immediately. Ha! "It makes me… distant… You know the Calming Draught, don't you, Hermione?"

"I… I do…" Hermione looked a little crestfallen.

"Yeah, I need it so my brain stops trying to off me," Ron shrugged casually. "Have a nice day."

With that, Ron turned around and began heading down towards the Slytherin Dungeons. He managed only a few steps before he felt a small, feminine hand grab his arm.

"Ron… Wait a minute," Hermione said, and Ron turned to face her.

"Yes?" Ron asked dully. She doesn't have a bruise on her jaw anymore. I guess Daphne really did land a decent blow. "I'm glad that your jaw is healed."

"Oh…" Hermione rubbed the side of her face. "Yeah… I fixed it, eventually…"

"Does it bother you that you lost to Daphne?" Ron asked calmly, and Hermione looked a little hurt. "I'm not trying to be cruel, I promise. I just want to know if you're doing alright." Plus, mending some bridges before Christmas would be a smart move. I don't need a house filled with people who dislike me.

"I don't want to sound rude, but I lost to Daphne Greengrass…" Hermione said. Yeah, that was pretty rude.

"You were both really good up there," Ron didn't care about Hermione's comment right now.

"Until she punched me," Hermione stated.

"It broke no rules," Ron reminded her. "Thinking outside the box could save your life one day, Hermione."

"Save my life?" she blinked. Careful, Ron.

"Figure of speech," Ron 'smiled', and Hermione looked a little uncomfortable due to his dead-eyed gaze. "What I mean to say is that you should think about the rules. I mean, you want to be a Prefect, don't you?"

"I do," she replied slowly.

"Then knowing the rules is something that you should definitely focus on," Ron said. "Daphne paid attention to the rules, and so, she won."

"But punching another person?" Hermione said. "Sorry, but I don't agree with that." Didn't you blow up a cauldron full of hot Potion in class?

"For what it's worth, she wasn't too pleased with herself either," Ron told Hermione. "I swear it."

"Really?" Hermione looked a bit taken aback. Stop hating my girlfriend.

"Really," Ron said. "Now, why did you stop me?"

"Oh, I was just wondering about something…" Hermione started, a hint of hesitation in her voice. "Do any of your siblings know that you're… sick?"

"What? Are you planning to discuss my illness?" Ron asked.

"No, of course not!" Hermione denied. "It's just that I'm spending Christmas at yours… Ginny invited me… I simply don't want to overstep, that's all." Hmmm, she sounds genuine enough.

"Only Bill and Charlie know," Ron told her. "Never bring it up with them."

"I won't," she promised, and then she shot a look back at Harry and Neville. "What's your medication, Ron?"

"Hermione, that's a little personal, isn't it?" Ron asked calmly.

"It's just… I've been reading up on Brain Injuries, you see," Hermione started. Of course you have. "I don't think the Calming Draught helps with Brain Injuries." It does when you suffer from Chronic Stress.

"My Brain-Damage isn't my only problem," Ron told her bluntly, and she took a step back.

"Wh… What?" Hermione muttered.

"Don't worry about me," Ron turned to leave. "And just remember that snooping into my personal affairs is what created this tension between us. I want to be friends again one day, but I will not stand for this sort of invasive behavior."

Ron restarted his journey down towards the Slytherin Dungeons, and this time, Hermione didn't follow after him. Students passed him by, all of them looked at him with awed looks and spoke in hushed whispers, but Ron just ignored them. This had been happening all week, and Ron didn't' really like the attention. There were far too many rumors flying around about him, which meant that more and more people wanted to ask certain questions.

Eventually, Ron reached his destination, and after giving the wall the password, Ron stepped into the Slytherin common room. Eyes darted to him, and people began whispering again. Merlin, if you're up there, please stop this. Ron made his way towards his room quietly, but before he could reach the entrance to the boys' dorms, he was stopped by Sebastian.

"Hello, Ron!" Sebastian stepped in his way.

"Hello," Ron greeted back, his cold eyes scanning the boy's excited expression. "Can I help you with something, Seb?" Doesn't Sirius call Lord Greengrass 'Seb'? I bet Lord Greengrass hates that.

"I was just wondering if I could keep your broom for the Holidays," Sebastian replied, his tone becoming a little less excited. "John's coming over, and he doesn't have a Nimbus 2001. We want the competition to be fair, you see." They're becoming close? Good.

"Keep it for as long as you need, mate," Ron said, his voice devoid of any emotion.

Sebastian smiled widely at first, but Ron's tone made him rethink.

"Are you being sarcastic?" Sebastian asked slowly. What? No.

"Not at all," Ron said. "It's yours for the keeping."

"I… I still can't tell," Sebastian mumbled. Damn you, Seb.

"I am serious," Ron tried his best, and Sebastian nodded slowly. "Just bring it back in one piece, alright?"

"I can do that," Sebastian nodded more firmly.

"I'll see you around," Ron moved past Sebastian. Do I really sound sarcastic under this Potion's effects?

Once Ron was at his door, he opened it slowly, and he entered without making a sound.

"Ron?" Pansy looked to him, and the others followed her gaze.

"Hello," Ron greeted his friends. "Playing Wizard Poker again?"

Ron's eyes drifted to Malfoy, and he found the boy sitting down between Pansy and Theo. They invited him to play, and he accepted? This is good. It seems that my absence has done some good for Malfoy. Forced him to socialize with the group a little, you know.

"Where have you been, Ron?" Millie asked. "We went up to the Sanctuary, but you weren't there." Lucky you weren't there when I returned. That would have been awkward.

"He's in a suit," Tracey looked Ron over. "He probably had some business to attend to." Oh, I did.

"Right on the money, Trace," Ron 'smiled', and his friends just stared at him.

"Oh, shite…" Theo muttered, but Ron decided to ignore it.

"Pardon me, Ladies," Ron stepped past them all, and then he opened his trunk.

Much to his surprise, his school robes were sitting on the very top of his other clothes. Wow, Kreacher is damn quick. The school robes looked perfectly clean, and they even smelled nice. An orange, zesty smell. Not as good as my usual one, but I don't mind. Ron looked through his Potions, and once he had picked out a vial of Nutrition Potion, he shut the trunk. Need my second dose, otherwise, I'll be too tired at dinner. Ron drank the Potion down without hesitation, and despite being on the Calming Draught, he still pulled a face. Gross.

"Ron, you had one this morning," Daphne reminded him. Wait… They don't know that I have two doses now. Damn it, Ron. Just tell them now, they're too sharp to lie to about this sort of stuff. Especially Daphne… She'll keep looking into this.

"I need two now," Ron told them. "It's a recent discovery."

"Two?" Blaise asked him, while Malfoy just looked around quietly.

"What is that stuff?" Malfoy asked.

"A Nutrition Potion," Ron replied. Who's he going to tell? His mother is a prisoner, and his father will never see him again.

"Why do you need two?" Daphne asked the question that they were all thinking.

"You know why," Ron replied a little too bluntly, and Pansy dropped her cards.

"Why are you on that Potion?" Pansy whimpered. "Did you get bad news?" Ugh… I don't feel like babying you right now.

"No, Pansy," Ron tried being gentle. "You dropped your cards, by the way."

"Oh…" Pansy looked down slowly.

"Ron, why did you need the Potion?" Daphne asked with a calm voice. "We're only asking because we care, and you don't have to tell us if you don't want to."

"I had a panic attack," Ron lied. "About my grades of all things… Can you believe that?"

"I can," Tracey said, and Millie shot her a deadpan look. "What?"

"I'm fine now," Ron told them. "Continue on with your game, I'll just be on my bed practicing some Wandless Magic."

"Where did you get the Potion?" Theo asked. Marty stole one from you, but I can't mention Marty near Malfoy. Risking myself is one thing, but I can't risk Marty as well.

"Your trunk," Ron replied. "Sorry, I just really needed one."

"You came back to Slytherin?" Malfoy asked him with a furrowed brow.

"I did," Ron lied. "I used the Disillusionment Charm in order to avoid people." Ron then sat down on the edge of his bed. "Now… Please ignore me." Because I'll be ignoring you.

---

Thursday 17th December, 1993 (The Leaky Cauldron – Near Dinnertime)

Ron waited by the fireplace, and once Professor Sprout finally joined him, they made their way towards the exit together. Careful does it, Ron. Start a normal conversation with her, and then try to get your grade back to an Outstanding.

"How's your day been, Professor Sprout?" Ron asked.

"Oh, quite good," Professor Sprout replied. "And you, Mr. Weasley?" Bloody.

"Same as usual," Ron shrugged. "I had Defense Against the Dark Arts this morning, which I really enjoy."

"What creature is Professor Lupin teaching you about?" Professor Sprout asked.

"Vampires," Ron replied. "Turns out that sunlight doesn't actually kill them, it just disorientates them."

"They have very sharp senses," Professor Sprout nodded. "Did you know that they actually started those rumors in order to trick Muggles? This was before the Ministry created the Statute of Secrecy, of course. Many Muggles truly believed in Vampires, and often the best way to alleviate suspicion was to walk around during the day."

"Professor Lupin did mention that," Ron said. "I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to be a Vampire. It doesn't sound pleasant, but there are perks." Like superhuman senses and strength. They are even immune to most Spells.

"The 'hunger' they live with is torture," Professor Sprout sounded quite sympathetic. "Many of them die young, I'm afraid." Suicide, no doubt. I guess some Ronald Weasleys have that in common with Vampires.

"We covered Vampiric Plants in Herbology recently, remember?" Ron asked. "Now… I know that those plants aren't all bloodsuckers, but today's class made me think of Herbology."

"That's good to hear," Professor Sprout smiled genuinely. Go in for the guilt trip, Ron.

"Actually… Since I have you here, do you mind if I ask you something?" Ron asked, his voice becoming lower.

"Of course," she replied.

"I have a feeling that I didn't do well in your class this term," Ron started, and she blinked at him. I thought I did, but clearly, I didn't. "I know I've been distracted because of… health related issues… but that's no excuse."

Professor Sprout looked truly concerned all of a sudden, and Ron figured that his 'health related issues' had done the trick.

"Is there any way for me to make up for my poor performance this term?" Ron asked her. "Something like an extra assignment? It can be difficult, even. I'll get it done, I promise."

"Mr. Weasley… I don't usually tell students this, but you have an Outstanding in my class," Professor Sprout said comfortingly, and Ron blinked at her. Wait… What? Oh, fuck… Dumblecunt! He was fucking with me?

"Really?" Ron asked, he didn't have to fake his surprise.

"I know you struggled a little when it came to focusing in class every now and then, but your assignments were always done well," Professor Sprout told him. "You are doing good work in my class, Ronald." I gave him a life altering warning, and he pulled a damn prank on me? What the hell is wrong with that man?

"I'm… I'm quite surprised to hear this," Ron tried to give a genuine smile. "If my smile seems disingenuous, it's because I'm under the effects of the Calming Draught." Leave no room for further awkwardness, Ron. If you weren't on the Potion, your ears would be bright red right now.

"A Calming Draught?" she asked.

"It's been rough day for me," Ron looked ahead, they were getting closer to The Pond. Walk faster, Ronald.

"I'm… I'm very sorry to hear that," Professor Sprout gave him a rather sorry look. Damn you, Albus Dumbledore. Damn you.

The rest of the journey was made in an awkward silence, and as soon as they entered The Pond, Ron approached Rudolph.

"Ah, Mr. Weasley!" Rudolph smiled widely.

"Rudolph," Ron smiled back.

"You remembered," Rudolph looked quite pleased.

"Of course," Ron gave him a nod. "I promised you, didn't I?"

"Excellent, Sir," Rudolph showed them in. "Mr. Cuffe is waiting for you already. Will you be needing another seat?"

"Just a table for one, thank you," Professor Sprout said.

"I see him," Ron said, and then he looked to Professor Sprout. "I'll see you in a bit, Professor."

"Good luck in your business meeting, Ronald," Professor Sprout wished him luck. Ronald again? Fair enough.

Ron walked over to Barnabas Cuffe's table, who stood up with a smile at the sight of Ron.

"Mr. Weasley, please take a seat," Barnabas gestured to the empty chair, and Ron did as he was told. "How are you today?"

"I'm well," Ron replied. "And you?"

"Quite well," Barnabas sat down. "I ordered you the Lamb Special, I know you enjoyed it the last time." I did.

"Does your girlfriend know that you're buying a minor dinner?" Ron asked in a very cold voice, and Barnabas blinked at him. "That was a joke, don't be so tense, Mr. Cuffe."

"Are you alright, Mr. Weasley?" Barnabas cocked an eyebrow.

"I fell a little ill, and the Matron of Hogwarts gave me a Potion," Ron lied. "It's made me a little… numb…"

"Oh, I hope you get well soon, then," Barnabas relaxed a little. "As for Marietta, she told me of your interview with her. I must admit… You hiring her despite your knowledge about our relationship was very surprising."

"She has talent, and I really enjoyed her articles," Ron admitted calmly.

"She is a truly gifted young woman," Barnabas smiled a little.

"Yes, very young… Around your daughter's age, right?" Ron just stared at Barnabas.

"Yes, I know…" Barnabas said a little weakly. "Some would consider our relationship… unorthodox."

"My only opinion on your relationship is about her loyalty to you," Ron said. "People who are loyal to my competitors are… Well, it is not in my nature to trust them completely."

"I understand, and I feel the same way," Barnabas told him. "You may not believe this, but I pushed her onto you because I want her to have a chance. The Daily Prophet would never hire her because of her strong beliefs, which I personally cannot stand. The Media should be unbiased-"

"Funny thing for a man like you to say," Ron stated. "How many others like her have you cast aside in the past?"

"Far too many…" Barnabas replied. "I will not pretend to be a Saint, nor will I use her against you. I want her to succeed, that's all." He sounds genuine, but I'll be careful nonetheless.

"And she will, if she does her job well," Ron said. "Does it not bother you that I had you followed?"

"I have no leg to stand on, as Marietta told me rather harshly," Barnabas replied.

"She didn't know that you were stalking me?" Ron asked.

"No," Barnabas replied. "For all her beliefs, she can be naïve to the coldness of the World we live in. That is the mark of an idealist, Mr. Weasley. They have strong beliefs, and great intentions, but they don't understand how shallow some men can be. They don't understand that ugly things need to happen for something beautiful to be born."

"Are you calling us both shallow compared to her?" Ron asked.

"Aren't we?" Barnabas asked in response.

"Yes, I guess we are," Ron nodded. I mean, I killed a man today, and I don't even care. The World is better off without him, but that doesn't change what I did. The only way to save the World is to plunge one's hands into the filth, and piece by piece, clean everything.

"Two Lamb Specials," Tiffany came over, and when she saw Ron, she smiled widely.

"Hello, Tiffany," Ron smiled back. "Excited to see Beth over the Holidays?"

"She's going to talk my ears off, so yeah," Tiffany chuckled. "I'll bring you both some sweetened water."

"Thank you," Ron gave her a nod, and she left to get their drinks.

"You know her?" Barnabas asked.

"I am her sister's tutor," Ron replied.

"Ah… The famed study group," Barnabas nodded, and Ron cocked an eyebrow. How does he know about that? "Don't be so surprised, Mr. Weasley. Hogwarts isn't cut off from the rest of the World, despite some people thinking so. I had an interesting chat with one of your students' parents."

"Which one?" Ron asked.

"Can't tell you that," Barnabas replied. "But I will tell you this… You are not liked by the other Pure-Bloods. The way they sneered at the mention of your name… Truly despicable."

"You can't make friends without enemies, I suppose," Ron said. They'll get theirs in time.

"Here you two are," Tiffany put the glasses on the table. "On the house."

"Thank you, Tiffany," Ron smiled once again, and she waved as she left to attend to the other guests.

"Ronald Weasley… The friend of the downtrodden," Barnabas said. "It's a nice title for an article, don't you think?"

"Just because they're Muggle-Borns doesn't make them downtrodden," Ron said. "Believe me, if a Muggle-Born pissed me off, I'd go after them in the same manner as I would go after a Pure-Blood."

"You believe in equality for all, then?" Barnabas asked.

"I believe in merit," Ron replied. "Those who do the work deserve the praise, not the bystanders. Blood-Status, race, entitlements… They mean nothing to me. I judge a person on that person's actions." Cunts are cunts, it doesn't matter which group they are associated with.

"Are you sure that you're thirteen?" Barnabas asked. "I have never met a thirteen year old who is a genuine realist."

"I've seen… some terrible things…" Ron said vaguely. "They woke me up from my innocence."

"Consider me intrigued," Barnabas began his meal, and Ron followed suit.

"You shall have to remain intrigued," Ron said. "I'm not a sharer."

"What a pity," Barnabas smiled. "If I could publish an article on the mind of Ronald Weasley, I'd turn a hefty profit."

"Then I definitely won't share," Ron said. "Can't have my competition getting wealthy on my expense, now, can I?"

"No, I suppose that would defeat the purpose of our rivalry," Barnabas said. "This is good lamb."

"It's the sauce, I think," Ron said, his voice bland. "Aren't you going to ask why I called for you?"

"You want to know my intentions once and for all?" Barnabas replied.

"Why do I keep running into you?" Ron asked. "Why do you seek me out?"

"I'm interested in a young wizard who is turning heads," Barnabas replied. "It is my job, Mr. Weasley."

"Just your job?" Ron asked. "You don't hold a grudge?"

"Things worked out for Marietta because you bought The Quibbler," Barnabas replied. "In a way, I'm glad that it was you who bought it. Not many Pure-Blood wizards would give her a chance."

"Don't be too glad, I might fire her yet," Ron said coldly. "She will need to prove her worth to me."

"That's fair," Barnabas gave a nod. "You have a business to run, and she understands that."

"Why isn't she here?" Ron suddenly asked. "I figured that she's not the sort of woman who likes men talking behind her back."

"Don't tell her that I told you this, but you frighten her," Barnabas chuckled. Smart witch.

"Am I frightening? Is it my big nose?" Ron asked.

"You are odd individual, and the normal will always fear the odd," Barnabas said. "Now… Marietta is a bit odd, but she's not in your league."

"There's a league, is there?" Ron smirked. "I imagine that I'm quite high in this league."

"You are," Barnabas said, and then he leaned forward. "I want us to work together, Mr. Weasley."

"How so?" Ron asked.

"Certain parties who control the Daily Prophet have… turned it into a joke," Barnabas whispered. "The Daily Prophet I joined in my youth wasn't a mouth-piece for the rich."

"Really?"

"Really," Barnabas nodded. "Before the Great War, bias was quite low in the Daily Prophet. It was still there, of course, but not like today. After everything that happened in the Great War, many of the rich and powerful needed a way to recover face. So, they invested heavily into the Media. Piece by piece, they turned the Daily Prophet into their own propaganda machine."

"These rich and powerful… Were they Death-Eaters?" Ron asked, and Barnabas shot quick looks around. "No one is listening, Mr. Cuffe… No one cares." And even if they are listening, we aren't doing anything criminal.

"Many were," Barnabas replied. "Some just had strong views that they wanted others to share. Your Great Aunt, Muriel Prewett, owns a piece, if you didn't know. She had us write an article on Goblins, and why we should fear them more than any other 'non-human' threat." Wow.

"I bet that article sold like hot cakes," Ron said.

"It did, actually," Barnabas told him. "Even former… Death-Eaters… wanted it to succeed. Now, your Great Aunt is no follower of the Dark Lord, but she shares some of his beliefs. The Daily Prophet is an immensely complicated machine, and it has millions of cogs. I am one of these cogs, but I'm old… I had a very different vision for the Daily Prophet when I was younger."

"What sort of vision?" Ron asked.

"The truth, and nothing but the truth," Barnabas replied, and then he drew in a deep breath. "Have you heard of how my wife passed?" What?

"No."

"I got her killed," Barnabas told him rather bluntly, and Ron blinked at him. "I used to be a Journalist before I became the Chief-Editor… One of the articles I published was quite controversial."

"Controversial?" Ron asked.

"I named a few powerful people who I believed to be under the Dark Lord's service," Barnabas looked a hundred years older. "Not two days after it was published, I came home to the Dark Mark marring the sky above my house. And my Evette… She was dead."

"I am sorry," Ron tried to sound as genuine as he could. I'll look into this story later.

"I was weak, and I caved," Barnabas told him. "I pulled the article… I still had a daughter, after all."

"You chose to protect your Blood," Ron said. "It's understandable."

"Is it? I work for the people who took my love from me," Barnabas told him. "The Quibbler was my escape…"

"And I took it," Ron said. "That's why you threw a tantrum to the Minister."

"I felt like the Universe had just conspired against me," Barnabas gave a sorry chuckle. "Foolish, right? I blamed the Universe as if it even cared about a speck of dust like me."

"I blame the Universe sometimes," Ron admitted. Alright, I do it a lot. "Sometimes, people just need someone to blame."

"I blamed you for a long time," Barnabas said. "But now, I'm glad it was you. Life is funny that way, isn't it?"

"It certainly enjoys being mysterious," Ron said. "You mentioned us working together?"

"If I can't publish a certain article, or if I meet a talented young Journalist who can't catch a break, I'll send them to you," Barnabas replied. "My reasons are mostly… sentimental… but they are important to me." He wants to rebel against authority in his own way?

"And what do I get in return?" Ron asked. "I mean, I don't have to rely on you, and you know that."

"I have spies, and I can give you information," Barnabas said. "Someone like you would benefit from that greatly." I would.

"I do like this deal," Ron admitted. "But… Let's have a trial period first. I am not quick to hand over my trust, Mr. Cuffe." Not anymore. "If you do send genuine talent my way, I promise to treat them as fairly as I treated Marietta."

"A toast, then?" Barnabas raised his glass, and Ron decided to give it to him. "Hopefully, this is the start of a fruitful partnership, Mr. Weasley."

---

Thursday 17th December, 1993 (The Headmaster's Office – Just after Dinner)

The moment Professor Sprout left the Office, Ron looked at the Headmaster.

"Exceeds Expectations?" Ron said in a dull voice, and Dumbledore all but grinned. "Really? I give you a life-shaking revelation, and you pull a prank on me?"

"You looked like you could use a laugh," Dumbledore barely managed to hold himself together. "Did you try to convince her to give you an Outstanding? Did you offer to do extra work?"

Ron just stared at Dumbledore with a dead-eyed stare, the old man was enjoying this too much.

"Why are you the way that you are?" Ron asked in a dead-tone, and Dumbledore let out a hearty laugh. "I hate… so much… about the things that you choose to be."

Dumbledore only laughed harder because of Ron's tone, and after staring at a cackling Headmaster for a few moments, Ron left for his room. I'm going to Astronomy. I've had enough of Dumbledore for today.

---

Sirius Black's POV

Thursday 17th December, 1993 (Grimmauld Place – After Dinner)

The last few days had been extremely eventful, but sadly for Sirius, he had missed out on all the fun. Sirius was now nothing more than a glorified babysitter. He babysat the Weasley twins. He babysat Severus Snape, his childhood nemesis. He babysat the psychopath who carried her fucking sword everywhere she went. And he baby sat Kurt Varga, the sorriest bastard to ever live.

"He'll listen to me?" Kurt asked, and Sirius let out a sigh.

"Kid, just do as I say," Sirius said, he had allowed Kurt to wander the house. This is not a dungeon, and he's just a damn teenager. I think. "Dumbledore is a very reasonable man, and from what you've told me, your only crime is being unlucky. Tell him everything, alright? I know you're keeping secrets, and while I can respect that, Dumbledore has far too many people depending on him."

"I… I understand," Kurt nodded weakly, his eyes fixed on his empty plate. "Mr. Black… I just want to thank you… You've been really kind to me-"

"Kid, I'm not kind for gratitude," Sirius put his hand on Kurt's thin back, and he gave the lad a rub. "Just eat, tell the truth, and hopefully, you can start over." Remus would like this kid. After all, Remus was lost like him once.

"Thank you…" Kurt swallowed thickly. "About that woman…"

"Travers? Is she giving you trouble?" Sirius asked with a furrowed brow.

"No, Mr. Podmore is keeping her away from me," Kurt quickly assured Sirius. "I just… I heard that she left a head… The head… in Knockturn Alley."

Sirius rubbed his forehead at that, she really had done that. And you know what the worst part is? She terrified some of the Dark Lord's minions into running away. For a savage, she's certainly clever about some things.

"Keep your distance from her, Kurt," Sirius said. "Don't look at her, don't speak to her, and don't even mention her."

"Yes, I would prefer that," came the witch's voice from behind them, and they both looked back to see her enter the Kitchen. "Is there any food?"

"This isn't a hotel," Sirius frowned deeply. "If you want to eat, maybe you can cook sometimes." Why is she just staying here?

"I don't cook," she cocked an eyebrow.

"Then you can go hungry," Sirius said childishly.

"Mature," she said as she sat down from across them, her eyes fixed on Kurt. "Tell me, Werewolf, do I frighten you?"

"He has a name," Sirius fought the urge to snap at her.

"You should learn to control your emotions, Lord Black," Emilia said calmly. "You are Harry Potter's guardian, are you not?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Sirius asked.

"If he is truly some 'Chosen One', then he must be guided by a competent adult," Emilia replied. I might slap this bitch.

"You're making comments about being a competent adult?" Sirius asked.

"I do not have a child to take care of," Emilia countered. She's got a point. Damn. "Kurt… Do I frighten you?"

"Yes…" Kurt mumbled.

"Don't answer her," Sirius clicked his tongue, his eyes fixed on Emilia. "Why are you tormenting him?"

"I asked him a simple question," Emilia said, and then she looked back to Kurt. "I will not harm you, I promise. Sturgis told me of your sorry tale, and I don't see you as a threat anymore." Sturgis? They're on a first name basis?

"Where is Sturgis?" Sirius asked her.

"Your cripple is trying to walk around again," Emilia replied, and Sirius felt his blood boil.

"That man gave his Blood, and limbs, for the Order," Sirius grit out. "Show him some goddamn respect." Again, why am I defending him? He's been a right prick to me ever since I started helping him with his walking exercises. Wait… Sturgis is helping him right now? Alone?

"Are you always this loud and angry?" Emilia asked him. I haven't had a drink in over two weeks. I'm at the edge of my wit here.

"I need a smoke," Sirius stood up, and then he looked to Kurt. "You're coming with me."

Emilia just smirked at Sirius, and he chose to ignore her completely. Once Sirius began leaving the Kitchen, Kurt quickly followed after him. Wait… She's hungry, isn't she? Damn it, Sirius, you softie.

"Kreacher," Sirius called, and his Elf cracked into the Kitchen.

"Master called Kreacher?" the old Elf croaked.

"I did," Sirius replied. "Can you cook our guest something to eat?"

"Kreacher will start at once," Kreacher began hobbling towards the stove.

"You are a kind host, Lord Black," Emilia said, her voice filled with a certain smugness that greatly annoyed Sirius.

"Let's go, Kurt," Sirius said, and they headed for upstairs.

"She… I think she was flirting with you, Mr. Black…" Kurt spoke up, and Sirius shot a confused look back. Why does everything that comes out of his mouth make me really sad?

"The point of flirting is to flatter the other person, not drive them up a wall," Sirius said. "Plus, that woman is insane… I prefer to be crazy one with the women that I bring home."

"Oh…"

"Have you never had a lass flirt with you?" Sirius asked Kurt.

"Um… Once, I think…" Kurt muttered.

"You think?" Sirius asked as they kept going up.

"She kept touching my leg," Kurt replied. "Our camp was near a Muggle village, and some of us younger wolves decided to sneak out for the night. I met this one girl, and she was really nice."

"Did anything happen?" Sirius asked.

"Abraham found us, and he dragged us all away," Kurt said a little sadly. "He was our Pack Leader, if you don't remember." I remember… You started crying the last time you spoke about him.

"He was a stern man, I take it," Sirius said.

"Yeah… But I think he really loved us," Kurt all but whispered.

"I'm sorry that you lost him," Sirius said, and he felt Kurt stop behind him. "What is it?"

"I'll just go to my room from here…" Kurt shot a look towards the stairs leading upwards. Is he scared of Snape?

"Are you sure?" Sirius asked. "What if Travers decides to visit you when you're all alone?"

"She… She wouldn't do that, would she?" Kurt paled a little. That was mean, Sirius.

"She won't, I was only joking, Kurt," Sirius said calmingly. "I'll see you at breakfast, okay?"

"I… Thank you, Sir," Kurt said awkwardly.

"Just call me Sirius, please," Sirius said, he hated being called 'Sir'.

Kurt left for his bedroom, while Sirius continued his journey up towards the rooftop. He knew that he was bound to run into Snape and Sturgis, which meant that Snape was going to stare at him with utter contempt. Sirius didn't know why, but recently, Snape's hatred bothered Sirius. Maybe it was because, for the first time in his life, Sirius begrudgingly respected Snape, but that respect was not mutual. The man Sirius had always seen as a 'Death-Eater' throughout his life had proven himself a hero, and while everyone else stood a chance to earn Snape's respect, Sirius knew that he was never going to. Too much bad blood, and if Remus is to be believed, we were mostly in the wrong.

As soon as he reached the top floor, he spotted Sturgis helping Snape walk the corridor. As usual, Snape looked like he was close to dying from the pain in his right leg, and Sirius couldn't help but wonder what that black dagger was. Some fucked up Dark Arts Artefact, no doubt. Without muttering a single word, Sirius headed towards Sturgis and Snape. Despite the pain he was in, Snape still managed to look at Sirius as if he were utter filth. There's that look again…

"Sturgis," Sirius greeted. "Snape."

"Sirius," Sturgis shot him a weak smile, while Snape completely ignored him. "Don't worry, I've got this. Professor Snape is getting stronger each day."

"Don't discuss me as if I'm not here," Snape shot Sturgis an icy look, and Sturgis quickly lost his smile. "Take me back to my room. I need a break from this." His room? Have I completely lost the rights of my own house?

"I'll be up on the roof," Sirius told Sturgis, and then he continued on his way.

The moment he stepped out onto the roof, a cold breeze hit him across the face. However, unlike most, Sirius loved this sort of weather. Well, Sirius loved all types of weather. A decade in Azkaban does that to a person. Once he was standing by his usual 'smoking spot', Sirius looked up at the thick clouds as he pulled out a cigarette. There's a storm coming, I think. The clouds were thick, dark grey, and they completely covered the sky. As he stared up at the stormy clouds, he found himself thinking of Ron. Lightning…

Sirius wasn't going to lie, watching Ron at the tournaments had been nothing short of amazing. Sirius had always suspected the kid to have potential, but what he had seen went beyond that. Still, it was bizzare seeing someone so young wield so much power. If his aim had been off-...

"He really hates you," came Sturgis' voice, and Sirius broke out of his thoughts. "Professor Snape, that is. Our session was going quite well, but as soon as you showed up, he called it quits."

"Trying to make me feel bad?" Sirius smirked, and then he lit his cigarette. "You want one?"

"No, thanks," Sturgis refused politely. "You should try and put your fight with Professor Snape to bed, Sirius… We're all a team now, and we need to watch each other's backs out there."

"You damn Hufflepuff," Sirius rolled his eyes.

"I'm proud to be one," Sturgis smiled. "At least we were taught to play together, unlike you Snakes and Lions." Sturgis then looked up to the sky. "I think a storm is on its way."

"Yeah," Sirius agreed. "So… You're on a first name basis with Travers now?"

"Lady Travers isn't one for social norms," Sturgis shook his head. "I get the feeling that when she calls me Sturgis, she's looking down at me."

"I know how you feel," Sirius nodded. "She's been driving me up the walls… Not to mention that crazy stunt with the head."

"That was… barbaric," Sturgis grimaced. "That Vampire might have been our enemy, but desecrating his corpse in such a manner… It was wrong."

"It did get results, though," Sirius pointed out.

"People who believe in 'the ends justify the means' often become worse than their enemies," Sturgis said. "There has to be a line that we can't cross."

Sirius pondered those words for a bit, and after taking a long drag, he eyeballed Sturgis.

"We didn't interact much in the last war, did we?" Sirius asked him.

"No," Sturgis smiled. "You were always with your childhood friends, if I remember correctly." I was… I should've spent even more time with them.

"How did you get dragged into the Order?" Sirius asked him.

"My parents were killed," Sturgis replied, and Sirius bit his tongue. "Don't look like that, Sirius… I grieved, and then I made my peace with their deaths. They died standing up for what they believed in, and to honor them, I approached the Headmaster. I was only sixteen at the time, so he told me to wait a year."

"Didn't he put you under Dearborn?" Sirius asked from memory. We never did find Caradoc Dearborn's body.

"Mr. Dearborn was a great man," Sturgis said fondly. "Loved his pipe, and his tobacco from the States." Sturgis lost him as well, then. Fuck… That's some harsh luck. "He kept me alive for most of the war, you know… And I couldn't do the same for him."

"Mate… Don't think that way," Sirius regretted bringing up Dearborn. "Dearborn knew what he signed up for, just like the rest of us. He was his own man, and not your responsibility."

"I spent months searching for him," Sturgis stared up at the clouds. "I… I found a snatcher who was wearing his signet ring…"

"What?" Sirius was actually surprised to hear that. "I thought nothing was found of him. Ever."

Sturgis looked at Sirius with an odd look, and then he pulled out said ring from his pocket. He carries it around? Sirius stepped closer to Sturgis in order to inspect the ring, and when he recognized it, he stepped back slowly. It's got C.D engraved on top of it… That's definitely Dearborn's ring.

"When I saw it on that snatcher, I lost it," Sturgis said, his voice heavy with regret. "The snatcher… I… I don't think he was over seventeen…" Oh.

Sirius tried his best not to look awkward, but that was next to impossible. Should I say something?

"The war… No one came out of it clean…" Sirius said, and then he took a very long drag.

"There has to be a line that we can't cross," Sturgis said, though he sounded like he was talking to himself. "Desecrating corpses is past that line."

"Don't let Travers hear you say that," Sirius tossed his dying cigarette aside.

"Did the Headmaster know that the French were coming?" Sturgis asked, and Sirius blinked at him.

"What?" Sirius asked. That was kind of random.

"It's just… The French are here because Ronald Weasley brought them here for some unknown purpose," Sturgis said thoughtfully. "But the very next day, they're here… They're a part of the Order. There was no discussion, no debate whatsoever… They just showed up here, and they were already aware of what the Order's been up to."

"What are you trying to say, mate?" Sirius asked.

"Either the Headmaster approached them at the Gala," Sturgis started. "Or… They only came here after finding out about the Order."

"What? You think Ron brought them here for the Order?" Sirius asked. "The pup doesn't know anything about the Order, nor did he approach the French. He approached Madame Maxime, and she organized everything. I think Dumbledore reached out to her after he found out that she was coming down here, and they sorted everything out without Ron's knowledge." There's no way that the pup is involved in this.

"I guess that makes sense…" Sturgis nodded slowly. "Sorry, Sirius, but I think I've been spending too much time around Mr. Moody."

"Does that crackpot believe Ron to be behind this?" Sirius rolled his eyes. He's bloody mad, he is.

"He doesn't trust Ronald Weasley very much," Sturgis replied.

"He doesn't trust anyone," Sirius drawled. "Do yourself a favor, and stay away from him. He'll drive you as mad as himself." Pfft… Ron helping the Order. That'd be a sight to see, eh? His parents would murder Dumbledore together for getting Ron mixed up in this mess.

---

Daphne Greengrass' POV

Friday 18th December, 1993 (The Boys' Room – After Classes)

Enough was enough.

She missed Ron far too much to not approach him, and even though she knew that a fight could potentially break out, she had made up her mind. Over the last few days, she had slowly dismantled everything Ron had said, and although she still disagreed with it, she understood Ron's point of view. Deep down, Ron was not a malicious person, and so she knew that he had only brought up his conditions because he was scared. Scared for me, and maybe, scared for himself.

"Ron, are you in here?" Daphne looked around the empty room. Probably not… He's been so distant lately. I don't think that he's spoken a single word today. He even cancelled the study group for today.

"Daphne?" Ron's head popped out from behind his bed curtains.

"Hi," Daphne smiled a bit.

"Hello," Ron pushed the curtains open. "The others aren't around."

"I actually came looking for you," Daphne walked over to his bed, her eyes landing on a journal filled with words.

"I had Marty write down all the Wizarding Spells that he knows," Ron followed her gaze. "I know what you're thinking…"

"What?"

"Marty has better handwriting than me," Ron joked with a half-smile. He's not wrong, but I'm not going to say that. Ron's handwriting is actually quite bad, and I think he knows that.

"Ron… I'm ready to continue our conversation now," Daphne said, and Ron nodded slowly.

"Um… Come, and sit down," Ron said, and they both sat down on the bed.

Once they were facing each other, Daphne decided to start.

"How are you doing?" Daphne asked. How are you doing? Am I retarded?

"I'm the same as usual," Ron shrugged. "Busy."

"You need two Nutrition Potions now?" Daphne asked, she had been thinking about that all day.

"Yeah… Yeah, I do," Ron sighed out. "Look, my parents don't know yet. No one but you guys know. And Pomfrey."

"Shouldn't your parents know about this?" she asked him. "This sounds very serious, Ron."

"I'll tell them over the Break," Ron promised.

"How long have you been taking two doses?" Daphne asked.

"About a week," Ron replied. "I wanted to tell you, but I decided not to."

"Why?"

"You were here yesterday, weren't you?" Ron asked in return. "Did you not see Pansy? Tracey? Even Millie? I don't like making people feel that way, Daphne, especially my friends. It's hard to describe… I feel terrible about scaring you all, and then I start getting angry because you're all clearly feeling sorry for me. It's… It's stupid, but it hurts like hell. So I just didn't say anything."

"I won't lie… Even Theo and Blaise were shaken by this," Daphne fidgeted with her hands. "I understand why you didn't say anything, Ron."

Ron looked a little taken aback by this, but she saw his body relax as well. I do understand, and he's right, I got really scared yesterday. Even right now, I just want to hug him.

"About what I said to you…" Ron said, and then he drew in a deep breath. "I've come to realize that I was… I was a massive cunt for doing that to you." Language, please. "I just dropped so much on you at once, and when you couldn't keep up, I acted like a brat. I'm very sorry, Daph. You're not a trained professional, and you don't deserve to be my venting outlet."

"Thank you," Daphne smiled in relief. "It means a lot to me that you thought about my position. I've also thought about yours, and you are right."

"I am?" Ron asked.

"I was wrong to accuse you of trying to ruin our relationship," Daphne said. "I was too busy thinking about my relationship, and not about what my boyfriend was trying to tell me. So, I'm very sorry as well."

Daphne felt a weight float off of her chest, and she took in the first decent breath in almost a week. This is going well, and I think it's because we've both missed each other a lot. We both want to fix things.

"We're both sorry, then?" Ron chuckled weakly.

"We could've handled things better, there's no denying that," Daphne smiled more fully. "Let's learn from this, alright?"

"Alright," Ron agreed in a whisper. "What do we do now?"

"I want us to just be a couple," Daphne replied. "I know there's a lot of… issues… that we need to deal with eventually, but for now, can't we just be together?"

"What about my…?" Ron tapped his head. "It's still there, Daph… Not thinking about it won't make it go away."

"We deal with it together," Daphne replied. "I don't want to break up, Ron, that's my decision. I might have glossed over the ramifications of your conditions out of childish reasons, but even after you broke my illusion, I still want to be together. Do you want that as well?" Please say yes…

"I do," Ron replied. "I don't want you to be hurt, but I'm… I'm selfish…"

"You're not selfish," Daphne scooted closer to him. "I make my own decisions, Ron. Me. I have spent the last week thinking about what I want, and I want to stay."

"Okay… But I have a condition," Ron said. "When the time comes… You'll move on, and you won't fight me on that."

"What time?" her voice cracked. "When you…? When you… die…?"

"I know you don't want to hear this, but from my perspective, it's something that you needto understand," Ron said rather gently. "You called me cynical when we were dancing, remember?" Daphne gave a meek nod. "Well, recently, someone called me a realist, and I think I agree with them. Life is just… life. There are no favorites, and some people get dealt terrible hands. I got dealt a terrible hand, and although I'm trying to make the best of it, it's still a terrible hand."

"I… I understand…" she stared down at her lap. Don't cry! It'll only make him feel worse, and it won't help you. "Just don't cut me out, please…"

"I won't," Ron agreed. "Do you agree to my condition?" I don't want to.

"I do," Daphne all but whispered, her eyes were starting to sting.

"Thank you," Ron sounded sad, but relieved at the same time. "Can… Can I give you a hug?"

Daphne nodded with her eyes fixed on her blurry lap, and her traitorous nose sniffled loudly. Ron slowly moved to her side, and then he gently pulled her into his torso.

"You can cry," Ron whispered. "I'll understand, and I'll stay right here for as long as you need."

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Friday 18th December, 1993 (Cliffside – Late Night)

Ron stared down the edge of the cliff, Victor's corpse was gone.

It was an odd feeling to be guilty of not feeling guilty, and Ron wasn't sure that he liked it. Ever since the Potion had worn off, Ron was being plagued by his twisted feelings. He had killed a man, but he didn't feel any remorse. Was it normal to be so certain of oneself? Was it wrong? Ron had no earthly idea. All he knew was that Victor was a morally corrupt soul, and he would never hurt anyone for his own gain again. But that doesn't change what I did. I murdered him in cold blood.

Ron, of course, felt the same way about the Werewolves whose deaths Ron had signed off on, but at the same time, this was different. Whenever Ron closed his hands into fists, he could feel the weight of his punches. He could feel warm blood on his knuckles, and the vibrations caused by shattering bone. It made him feel sick, but it also made him feel powerful. I don't know what's worse… Being a murderer, or feeling powerful because of it.

He kept staring at the bottom of the cliff, and for a moment, he felt the urge to step forward. It would even the scales… Everything would end so quickly, and I'd be free. Ron took a step back. No, I wouldn't be free. I'd be a failure. Ron drew in a deep breath, his fingers digging into his forehead. I want a Calming Draught. I need one. I could barely focus on my chat with Daphne. We finally started healing from our fight, but I can't even bring myself to feel happy. I'm just so fucking… tired…

The sound of a loud crack broke him out of his thoughts, and he turned to see Emilia and Kreacher. I'm glad Kreacher cleaned this place up after we left. I don't need her growing suspicious about my contact. Ron had thought of a plan, and although it was a bit treacherous, he intended to follow through with it.

"Hello, Emilia," Ron greeted her as she approached him.

"Ronald," she gave a curt nod. "This place again?"

"It's secluded, and the breeze is nice," Ron shrugged, while she looked at the Artefact by his feet.

"Is that it?" Emilia's eyes gleamed in the moonlight.

"It is," Ron picked it up. "This right here is the solution to a lot of our problems."

"How does it work?" Emilia asked.

"Click this blue switch here, and a vial container pops out," Ron explained. "Once your poison is in the vial, close the container with a push, and then press this black button here. After a couple of minutes, the box will start releasing the poison gas."

"Look at this Rune-work," Emilia took another step forward, her hand tracing some of the Runes. "Marvelous… Can you even imagine the ingenuity it would take to craft such a weapon? The sheer intelligence?"

"It is quite the prize," Ron nodded his agreement. "Which is why my contact wants twenty thousand Galleons."

"Twenty?" Emilia didn't look too bothered. I keep forgetting how poor I am compared to these people. I should have asked for more. "Does this weapon expire after one use?"

"No," Ron shook his head. "My contact tested it out on rats. It works with every common poison, and I think stronger poisons will also work. Furthermore, these Runes turn the weapon invisible once activated. It can't be summoned, or located, with Magic."

"By all the Gods," Emilia drew in a sharp breath. Um… She's making me uncomfortable. "What if we were to keep it?"

"If you don't pay my contact, they won't be dealing with me again," Ron pulled the box to his side. "If anything, we'll have made more enemies." Don't give an inch, Ron.

"How does this payment business work, then?" she asked him. "You already have the weapon, which I find quite odd."

"I told them that you were a psychopath, and that you would want proof," Ron said coldly. "They trust me."

"Aren't you a charmer?" she took a step back. "I'll pay the twenty thousand, just tell me how."

"Send it to my vault," Ron said. "Go to Gringotts, find a Goblin named Gornuk, and tell him that you're putting twenty thousand Galleons into my personal Vault. He won't ask you any questions."

"That's a lot of money to transfer at once," Emilia looked skeptical.

"I have paid the Goblins a bribe," Ron told her. "They'll keep everything under wraps."

"And you trust this Gornuk?" Emilia asked.

"As long as he's on my payroll, I do," Ron replied. "Well?"

"I'll do it first thing tomorrow morning," Emilia promised, and Ron slowly handed her the Artefact. And I'll keep every single Knut of that money. With it, I'll actually do some good in the World. "This is a spectacular find, Ronald."

"We will never use it in public spaces," Ron said firmly, and she gave him a nod. "And we'll never use it on Order missions either. I don't want to poison our allies."

"Agreed," Emilia said. "A weapon like this is best smuggled behind enemy lines, and then set off."

"Be careful with it," Ron said.

"For now, I'll hide this in my own Vault," Emilia told him. "I too have been conned into paying bribes to Goblins, so it'll be safe there."

Emilia then shot a look back at Kreacher, who was clearly listening in.

"Don't mind him," Ron said. "I trust him completely."

"You shouldn't trust Elves," Emilia said. "Especially Elves who have a different Master."

"Kreacher is loyal," Ron said. Believe me, I've asked far too much of him already.

"Fine," Emilia decided to back off. "Before I go, I want to discuss something with you."

"Yes?"

"I heard that you split the Heavens apart during your school Dueling Club," Emilia stated, she actually sounded impressed.

"Split the Heavens apart?" Ron cocked an eyebrow. This sounds like the tripe I keep hearing at Hogwarts.

"That is how your mother told the tale," Emilia smirked. "Lord Black looked ecstatic, but the other Order members…" she stopped.

"They didn't look pleased?" Ron asked.

"Your mother also told us of the sea of Ghostly Serpents that you summoned," Emilia replied. "The Dark Arts do not sit well with self-righteous people."

"Name them," Ron crossed his arms.

"Mad-Eye, Sturgis, Hestia, Nymphadora, Teddy, Andromeda," Emilia listed.

"What about Severus Snape?" Ron asked. He would be proud of me, I know it.

"No one speaks to him except for Sturgis and your mother," Emilia replied. "I myself have not spoken to the man, but I've heard of his strength recently." Emilia then eyed Ron. "You care about this man's opinion of you."

"Is that a problem?" Ron asked. He's my friend, and I haven't seen him in what feels like forever.

"I was merely making an observation," Emilia said calmly. "He is the Head of your House, so it's not surprising that you look up to him."

"Speaking from experience?" Ron asked.

"We all have someone to impress," Emilia shrugged, and then she drew in a deep breath. "The last time we spoke, I forgot to mention something important to you."

"You were quite rattled," Ron couldn't help but smirk. "Nice sleeping gown, by the way." I won't lie, it looked good on her.

"I will kick you off this cliff," she threatened, but Ron just sniggered to himself.

"Go ahead, please," Ron raised his arms to his sides, and Emilia couldn't help but detect some sincerity in his words.

It clearly jarred her, and she just kept staring at him with a furrowed brow.

"What?" Ron asked nonchalantly.

"Nothing…" she broke her silence. "Anyway, I have something important to tell you. An associate of mine, Solomon, will be in contact with me soon." Solomon? From the vision? "He is a shady individual, but with his help, we could potentially boot the Vampires out of Knockturn Alley."

"How so?" Ron asked.

"Solomon enjoys being in charge," Emilia told him. "He's got wealth, he's got spare wands, and he's extremely shrewd for a Half-Troll." Half-Troll? Is that even possible? Who'd fuck a Troll? "When he does show himself, there will be a struggle in the underworld. These Vampires are causing too many problems, and someone will eventually need to clear them out. Personally, I want Solomon to be the one who does the dirty work."

"Why?"

"Because the life of an Auror is ten times more valuable than some mercenary's," Emilia replied, and Ron nodded slowly. She clearly respects Aurors, though she was a bitch to Tonks and Dawlish at the Gala. "Plus, we can't let the Aurors fill the power vacuum left behind by the Vampires. We need one of our own controlling the underworld."

"That makes sense," Ron said. "You want us to have a foothold in the Darkest District of Magical Britain."

"I'll keep you in the loop," Emilia turned to leave. "I think Solomon will enjoy meeting you. Just don't let him get into your head." Trust me, he doesn't want to go there.

"One thing before you leave," Ron called out, and she turned to face him again. "When Solomon does get in contact with you, I want to meet him well before he moves in on Knockturn Alley. There are innocents living there, and I will not let them get caught in the middle of a battlefield."

"Innocents? In Knockturn Alley?" Emilia cocked an eyebrow.

"Just do as you're told," Ron said coldly, and she gave him a slow nod.

Ron turned back to stare at the bottom of the cliff, and once he heard Kreacher take Emilia away, he let out a long breath. I'll check my Vault this weekend, and once the money is there, I'll start using it to create more change.

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: And there it is! Oh, yeah... That just happened.

Now, many of you might be wondering 'Holy shit, he murdered a dude', while some of you will be glad that someone like Victor won't make anymore people his victims.

I remember reading the Dragon's Garrison for the first time, and although I really love that story, one thing never sat well with me. It was how easily the Ron in that fanfiction just killed people. He offed like a hundred dudes, and he didn't spare his actions any thought. Always found that odd in an otherwise fun story.

Don't even get me started on Independent!Harry, or Dark Queen!Hermione stories.

I'm going to let you all decide how you feel about Ron's actions. Are some people just not worth saving? Do some people deserve to get put down? Does Ron really have the right to make such calls? What is the size of Ron's penis? These are all good questions, and we should all think on them.

Now, my birthday is coming up on Saturday, and I'm spending it with my Family. As such, the next chapter won't be up until at least the 24th. I know that's a while away, but I've also got more interviews coming my way. Life be hella busy!

See you guys soon!