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.

128. Chapter 128 - A Brief Respite

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I'm back! Exams went great, thanks for all the support!

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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'A moment of respite, a chance to steel one-self against the coming horrors' Darkest Dungeon

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Fate

Chapter 128 – A Brief Respite

Ronald Weasley's POV

Monday 22nd February, 1994 (The Wizengamot Courtroom – Evening)

The moment Dumbledore cleared Ron of all charges, the young redhead turned around and headed straight for Priscilla. He ignored the camera flashes and the ever-loudening whispers around him; his eyes fixed solely on Priscilla and Madam Pomfrey.

"We're leaving, Priscilla-" Ron started, but was interrupted when Priscilla pulled him into a hug.

"I'm so sorry, Ron," Priscilla sobbed. "I had no idea… I'm just so sorry…" For what? You didn't do anything wrong.

"We'll talk more once I get you home," Ron said, pulling away and taking her hand. "Madam Pomfrey, do you mind clearing the way for us? I don't want these vultures to corner Priscilla."

"Come," Madam Pomfrey wasted no time in leading them towards the exit.

Just as Ron had predicted, the many reporters attending his trial were quick to move into his way, shouting over each other and taking photos of him. He felt Priscilla's hand tighten around his, her body becoming rigid as she tried, and failed, to hide her face from being photographed.

"Step aside at once," Madam Pomfrey, despite her age, barrelled right into the reporters, pushing them aside as Ron stuck to her heels.

"You heard the Matron," Madame Maxime's voice boomed, the large Headmistress suddenly appearing at Ron's side. "Move aside, I will not ask again."

Even the most eager of reporters, Rita Skeeter, followed Madame Maxime's command, not keen to defy a woman like the Headmistress of Beauxbatons. Step by step, Ron and the others made it past the reporters, exiting the courtroom and leaving the noise behind. Bloody hell, it's finally over.

Ron had briefly spotted his family trying to catch up to him, but he refused to slow down his pace. He would see his family tonight, no doubt, and as of right now, he just wanted Priscilla to not be here. He could hear her trying to stifle her sobs, which only propelled him to move faster.

Sirius and Remus were waiting in the corridor that led towards the elevator, and from the looks of things, they were arguing with each other over something. Remus probably doesn't approve of Sirius' outburst. Personally, I can't deny that it felt good to hear Sirius' words, and I'm certainly glad that he called Fudge out.

"Ron?!" Sirius turned to face them as they approached, both men rushing over to the group. "Did they give a verdict?!"

"They found you innocent, right?" Remus added.

"I've been cleared of all charges," Ron replied, pulling Priscilla closer. "I need your help in getting her out of here. There's a crowd of people in the Atrium, they'll be blocking the fireplaces."

"Bloody hell, that's a right relief, that is," Sirius let out a long breath, while Remus shot Ron a relieved smile before leading the way towards the elevator.

"Is she all right?" Remus asked, shooting a look back at Priscilla. "What happened in there after we left?" They didn't hear that I tried to commit suicide? Wait, of course, they didn't. Dad and Remus dragged Sirius out before that was revealed, and unlike dad, they didn't come back to watch the trial's end.

"Priscilla confronted the Wizengamot, a true act of bravery," Madame Maxime said, commending the struggling girl. "You have a good heart, girl. What you've done for your friends, not many can claim to have such strength of character."

"Thank… Thank you," Priscilla sniffled.

Once they were in the elevator, Ron pulled out a handkerchief and offered it to Priscilla. Thank her, Ron. She went through hell for you just now.

"Thank you, Priscilla," Ron said, giving her hand a squeeze. "Madame Maxime is right; you were really brave in there."

"I wasn't supposed to start crying," Priscilla dabbed her eyes. "I spent years waiting for that moment, but I couldn't… I couldn't keep it together…"

"Your words reached them, child," Madam Pomfrey assured Priscilla. "And they certainly helped the Wizengamot come to their senses. This entire trial was nothing more than a farce, created by a desperate man who cannot take responsibility for his own actions."

"Ron, can I talk to you?" Remus whispered in Ron's ear, shooting a quick glance at Priscilla. "It's very important." Huh?

"Priscilla, can I have a moment with Remus?" Ron asked, and she nodded as continued to clean her face.

Ron let go of her hand and moved to the back of the elevator, allowing Madam Pomfrey and Madame Maxime to comfort Priscilla. Sirius joined Remus and Ron in the back, the three of them making a small circle.

"What is it, Remus?" Ron asked with a furrowed brow. "Did something happen to the Werewolves?"

"No, but Thaddeus, the wolf leading everyone down to Kent wants to speak to you," Remus whispered. "It's not looking good, Ron… They're scared, and with the Ministry coming after you, they have ample reasons to be." Fucking Umbridge… She'll never stop causing me headaches, will she?

"I'm working on something with Madam Bones," Ron started. "Remus, I will protect them as best I can, even from the Ministry-"

"I know that," Remus smiled a little, patting Ron's cheek affectionately. "But Thaddeus doesn't know you like I do, and he's putting his own people at risk right now. Word of the Werewolf Capture Unit circling the Sanctuary has reached Thaddeus, he sent scouts ahead just to be safe. Most of the Werewolves want to disperse because they broke Magical Law by not signing up with the Ministry, they know that they'll charged and tried unfairly the moment they show up."

"I thought you had Thaddeus' ear, Remus," Sirius said. "Can't you vouch for Ron?"

"I have, which is why they're even coming down in the first place," Remus replied. "But the Daily Prophet… That bloody article they wrote about you, the one about you trying to secure power for yourself; it's got people talking."

"The Daily Prophet will change its tune about me, I promise," Ron said. "After what just happened in there, they wouldn't dare insult me again. Fudge's campaign against me is over, for the most part." Now, I just have to let Madam Bones and Crouch bring Fudge down with their investigation.

"I want you to come with me, right now," Remus said. "The sooner we can get the camp moving, the better. The full-moon will be upon us in four days, Ron… We need to act fast." Shit, I didn't even think of that…

"Let me drop Priscilla off," Ron said. "I'll join you at The Leaky Cauldron right after, yeah? We can go speak with Thaddeus and his people together."

"Kid, are you sure?" Sirius whispered. "It's been a hell of a day for you, hasn't it?"

Sirius wasn't wrong, Ron felt drained through and through, and yet, the idea of letting the Werewolves worry over their futures for even one more night didn't sit well with him. Stop being weak, keep pushing forward. These people need you, Ron. Are you really going to let them down because you had a rough day? Don't be so pathetic.

"Don't worry about me," Ron said confidently. "My day pales in comparison to the shit Thaddeus and his people have endured. We'll go and speak to them right away."

"Thank you, Ron," Remus looked almost guilty. "I know I've put a lot on you here-"

"I make my own decisions, Remus," Ron said plainly. "We both want the same thing, so let's just go and get it done."

"I'm coming as well," Sirius said, and both Ron and Remus gave him curious looks. "Before you two say anything, I'm not taking no for an answer. Sitting in that fucking courtroom, just listening to those pricks go after Ron like that… I'm coming with you, end of story." He is an investor in the property, and as such, he can back up everything I say. Plus, three heads are better than two, right?

The elevator came to a jarring halt, its doors opening and revealing the packed Atrium.

"Let me deal with the crowd," Madame Maxime looked back to Ron, her neck craned and her knees bent. "Take Priscilla home, my friend. We will speak more soon, I promise."

"Thank you, Madame Maxime," Ron said gratefully, all of them leaving the elevator. "You didn't have to come down here-"

"Of course, I did," Madame Maxime said, regaining her regal posture. "And, truth be told, I am glad that I did. You are an incredible young man, Ronald. If there was ever any doubt in my mind about that, know that all of my doubts have been buried." Me? Incredible? If she really knew me, she wouldn't think like that.

Ron said nothing, quietly moving back to Priscilla's side and taking her hand in his. I have an idea. Ron quickly pulled out his wand, surprising the people around him.

"I'm putting Priscilla and myself under the Disillusionment Charm," Ron told them, slowing down. "I don't want us to get cornered."

"Smart," Remus smirked. "Go on, be quick about it."

Ron didn't need to be told twice, and within seconds, both Ron and Priscilla were nearly invisible. I'll drop her off and go straight to The Leaky Cauldron, there is no time to waste.

"Woah…" Ron heard Priscilla mutter.

"Keep holding onto my hand, we'll move around the side together," Ron whispered, and when he felt her squeeze his hand, he slowly drifted away from the group. "Move slowly, and don't make a sound, all right? If they spot us, they'll want to talk to me and ask me questions about the trial."

"Okay," Priscilla whispered back. "I can't believe I'm invisible…"

"Pretty neat, eh?" Ron couldn't help but smile a little, she sounded so awed that it was quite endearing. I might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I have my moments.

"It's brilliant," Priscilla sniffled one last time, sounding more like her usual self.

There was a sudden outburst of cheers and applause, and when Ron shot a look towards the centre of the Atrium, he saw Madame Maxime being congratulated by the relieved rioters. Hmmm… Did she elect herself to announce my innocence to get positive press? Clever.

"Come on, we're almost there," Ron looked back ahead, dodging a couple of excited bystanders.

Amidst all the excitement, it was surprisingly easy to make to the fireplaces without being spotted. However, once Ron had a clear view of said fireplaces, he also spotted Artyom waiting for him by one not too far from him. I totally forgot about him. I'll send him to The Leaky Cauldron, I'm sure he'll be pissed if I run off without telling him.

"Priscilla, you see that massive bloke over by the fireplace? He's got black hair and a styled beard," Ron whispered, stopping them both.

"Um… Yes," Priscilla replied. "Who is he?" My nanny.

"He's my bodyguard," Ron told her. "I need to go speak to him, all right?"

"I'll come with you," Priscilla said. "Ron, I can't even see my own hands…"

"Fair enough," Ron said, gently tugging her hand as he began heading towards Artyom.

Strangely enough, as Ron began nearing the large Russian, Artyom suddenly turned and looked in his direction, his dark eyes peeled for movement. What the fuck?! How does he know that I'm-?

"I know you are there," Artyom said, his voice low and heavy. "Show yourself." Bloody hell…

"It's me," Ron said, getting closer.

"I know it's you," Artyom said. "Why are you using Disillusionment Charm?"

"How the fuck could you possibly know it's me?" Ron asked, he was rather bewildered.

"I can sense your Magic," Artyom replied. "Now, answer me." That's wicked! I'll ask him to teach me this trick, I've already done some work on sensing Magic, and it's not that hard once you can relax your mind.

"I don't want to deal with that crowd," Ron explained. "Plus, I'm not alone, and I'd rather get my friend home before these people put her on the spot."

"Hello, Sir," Priscilla whispered, and Artyom looked in her general direction.

"Where does she live?" Artyom asked. "We will go now."

"Actually, I need you to go to The Leaky Cauldron and wait for me there," Ron instructed. "I have to meet the leader of the Werewolves; he's concerned that about the Werewolf Capture Unit."

"Are we meeting him there?" Artyom asked.

"No, we're joining up with a couple of my friends first," Ron replied. "Remus Lupin and Sirius Black."

"Understood," Artyom gave a short nod. "I will find them, then."

"All right, see you soon, mate," Ron whispered, moving towards the nearest fireplace without delay. "Priscilla, can you prepare the floo?"

"Okay," Priscilla said, letting go of his hand and preparing the floo.

While she went about her business, Ron looked back towards the crowd. Madame Maxime was still addressing the people, explaining why she had come to Britain and openly sharing the fact that she was good friends with Ron. She's sharper than Emilia's Oni-Blade. It's no wonder that she's so loved in Magical France, she never wastes an opportunity to turn things in her favour. She'd have made an excellent Slytherin.

"Ron, it's ready," Priscilla walked over and took his hand again. "Let's go."

The two teenagers turned around and headed through the flames, walking into Dumbledore Abode's messy living room. Bloody hell, what is this mess? Ron pulled out his wand, waving it and Non-Verbally cancelling the Disillusionment Charm.

"Ron, that's amazing," Priscilla praised, looking herself over. "I was invisible!"

"It is a handy little Spell, isn't it?" Ron smiled a little more fully, pocketing his wand. "Are you okay? I know it couldn't have been easy for you to see the Wizengamot, and I can't thank you enough for saying what you said." Though, she's under the illusion that I'm a good person. Whatever the fuck that is.

"I wanted to say a lot more…" Priscilla sighed out, giving Ron a sorry look. "I can't believe I just started crying like that… It was pathetic…" No, I think it was really fucking brave. Those bastards have all the power in the world, but you still gave them a piece of your mind like they were little children.

Priscilla then adorned an even sorrier look, squeezing Ron's hand a little too tightly. Uh-oh, I know what's coming.

"Ron, I had no idea," Priscilla whispered, her eyes welling up again. No, please don't do that.

"Yeah, well, only a handful knew," Ron scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "And, now… Now, everyone does…" This is going to cause me headaches, I just know it. My siblings, for one, won't let this go.

"It's all true, then?" Priscilla asked meekly. "You're… You're dying?" I'm not sure, but even if I'm not, I don't plan to stick around after my work is done.

"Yes…" Ron replied, not knowing what else to say. "Um… Look, I'll make sure that you're all cared for after I'm gone, I promise-"

Before he could finish, Priscilla pulled him into a tight hug, making him tense up. Relax, Ron… She's not trying to hurt you. Ron drew in a deep breath, steadying his mind and putting his arms around her back. After a few moments, Ron even began to appreciate the gesture, it felt nice to know that she cared enough to cry over him. An odd thing to be happy about, eh? I'm a weird cunt, no doubt about that.

"Is that your boyfriend, Cilla?" came a boy's squeaky voice, making Priscilla jump and step away from Ron.

"Jacob…" Priscilla breathed out, both of them looking towards Jacob. Awkward…

Jacob, who seemed to be around ten, though Ron couldn't tell due to how skinny and short he was, stood by the entrance with a piece of parchment in his tiny hands, and behind him were some of the other children, including a frowning Tiberius. He's all but glaring at me… Brilliant. I should just leave before I cause trouble for Priscilla. Merlin, this lad needs a fucking session with Madam Pomfrey.

"Look!" Jacob ran over to Priscilla, beaming and holding up a coloured drawing. "It's us!"

"It's very beautiful," Priscilla smiled, wiping her eyes clear and accepting the drawing. "Do you want me to hang it up for you, love?"

"Uh-huh," Jacob nodded, looking very pleased with himself.

"Are you sad?" a small girl asked Priscilla. "Is it because of the mess? We girls didn't do it; it was the boys!"

"Sorry, we made a mess…" a boy spoke up. "Racky said we could play in here."

"Priscilla, what's wrong?" Tiberius moved past the others, stopping near Ron and Priscilla. "What did he do to you?" Me? "What did you do to her?"

"Tiberius…" Priscilla pinched her eyes. "Why do you start acting like this around him?" It's my face, this happens too often for it to be anything else. My face just pisses people off.

"I don't trust him," Tiberius said bluntly, staring into Ron's eyes. "Something's not right about him, why can't you see that?"

"Stop it," Priscilla suddenly hissed, making the others go very still. Shit, look at what you did, Ron. Just leave, you ugly bastard.

"Priscilla, it's fine," Ron said, subtly looking towards the little ones. "Don't get angry, they shouldn't see you like that… I'll go-"

"Ron, no," Priscilla interjected, looking even more frustrated. "Tiberius, apologize to him right now. Do you have any idea how much he's done for you?!" Shit, she's raising her voice.

"Yeah, and I'm sure that makes him look really good to his rich, Pure-Blood friends," Tiberius shot back. "We're just another trophy under his belt-"

"Enough!" Priscilla snapped, making the others shrink and look down at their feet. "You're literally wearing clothes that he's paid for! How can you be so ungrateful to him?!" He's been through hell, and because of that, he hates people like me. I would know, I hate a lot of people myself.

"Priscilla, you are scaring the others," Ron whispered, gently pulling her away from Tiberius and towards the fireplace. "Don't scream at your own, I'll go."

"Ron, you can't let him-" Priscilla started.

"I don't want any in-fighting between you lot," Ron whispered. "Just, don't worry about it. I need to go talk to some Werewolves about the Werewolf Sanctuary, so it's best if I go now."

"Shouldn't you go home and rest?" Priscilla whispered. "Ron, after what just happened… After what I just learned… You should be looking after yourself."

"I… can't do that," Ron said, he knew he was incapable of it at this point. I don't get to rest, not until I've earned it. "I'll see you soon, yeah? Send me an owl if you need anything, I'll be sure to reply this time."

The look on Priscilla's face was a mixture of disbelief and pity, she couldn't even begin to understand how Ron's mind worked. With nothing more left to say, Ron moved over to the fireplace, preparing a floo-jump to The Leaky Cauldron.

"Ron, wait," Priscilla said just as he was about to depart. "Thank you. For everything. You once told me that you're not sure if you're a good person… Well, I think you're far better than good-"

Tiberius scoffed and shook his head, leaving the room and heading upstairs. Priscilla's lips thinned into a frown, her hands clenching into fists. He's going to get slapped by Priscilla one of these days, I don't need my visions to know that.

"Thanks, Priscilla," Ron said, giving her a soft smile. "Don't be too harsh with him, he's been through a lot, just like you and the others."

With that, Ron turned around and left, not keen to stick around and cause more problems for Priscilla. Onto the next objective, Ron. It's time to finally meet the Werewolves I'm trying so hard to help, and hopefully, convince them to put their faith in me.

The Leaky Cauldron was bursting with activity, it was filled with drunk patrons unwinding at the end of a long day of work. The merry mood was a welcome change from the grimness of his own day, and Ron found himself breathing in the atmosphere. It smells like vomit in here… Ron shook his head clear, maybe it was better to appreciate the atmosphere with his eyes instead of his nose?

"Ron! Over here!" Remus called; he was sitting in secluded corner near the fireplace.

"Remus! Sirius!" Ron walked over, taking a seat next to Artyom. "I take it that you three are properly introduced?"

"Ron, where did you find this giant?" Sirius asked, smirking at Artyom. "And why is he so bloody grim?"

Artyom simply gave Sirius an indifferent look, while Ron subtly shook his head at Sirius. He will literally rip off your arms, Sirius. Don't push him.

"Sirius, leave him be," Remus sighed out. "One of these days, you're going to get a beating, and I won't even bother helping you."

"Nonsense!" Sirius chuckled. "I've started petty brawls before, and you're always the first one on my side!"

"Your mood seems to have improved," Ron noted. "Hard to believe that you were cussing out the Minister not one hour ago."

"Eh, fuck that greedy bastard," Sirius pulled a face. "His time is done, especially now that you've been proven innocent! So, yes, my mood has definitely improved!"

"Remus, are you ready to take us to Thaddeus?" Ron asked. "Like you said, we've got no time to waste."

"If you need a break, Ron, we're more than happy to wait a little," Remus offered. "You've had a long day, and… And I know that it couldn't have been easy to reveal your conditions to the world… To put yourself out there like that." It isn't easy, but it's too late to have regrets now. The past can't be changed, but the future can be.

"Right now, the only thing that will make me feel better is convincing the Werewolves to continue making their way to Kent," Ron said, standing back up. "C'mon, we have work to do."

Remus and Sirius exchanged looks, both of them smiling before following Ron's lead.

"I won't ever forget this, Ron," Remus promised. "You're a good lad, through and through."

"I didn't do much," Ron admitted. "You should thank the investors, Remus. They did most of the heavy lifting on this."

"He hasn't thanked me once," Sirius pointed out. "Not even a pat on the back, can you believe that?"

Remus gave Sirius a dull look, and then, he smacked Sirius on the back, making the man hiss in pain.

"There," Remus smirked, while Sirius glowered at him. "Thank you, Sirius." Ha!

"Fucking prick, that hurt," Sirius mumbled, shaking his head.

"Are you finished?" Artyom suddenly asked. "Can we get this done?"

"How exactly are we getting there?" Ron asked. "Apparition?" I hope not, it's getting worse for me every time and I have no idea why.

"Yes, just put your hands forward, and I'll Apparate us there," Remus said, putting his hand in the middle. Brilliant…

"You can Apparate three other people with you?" Ron asked.

"I'm not completely without skill," Remus chuckled. I suppose he isn't, given that he's an Order member and my Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor.

Ron, Artyom, and Sirius did as Remus asked, and once their hands were joined, Ron felt himself being pulled out of The Leaky Cauldron. There was a torrent of blinding lights, and just as Ron felt his body compress and reform, his feet hit solid ground. His head throbbed painfully, and his vision quickly began to darken. Fuck me… My head feels like it's going to explode.

"Ron!" Sirius yelled, catching him before he collapsed.

The voices of his companions became distorted, while the land and sky melded into one. Ron felt utterly disorientated, as if a bludger had smashed right into his face. Fucking hell… I'm going to be sick… Ron suddenly heaved, but thankfully, nothing came out.

"Ron?" Sirius was repeating, rubbing his back and holding him in place. "Remus?! What the fuck, mate?"

"Who taught you to Apparate?" Artyom growled. "Damn fool."

"It wasn't me, the rest of us made it through fine," Remus said, kneeling in front of Ron. Did I fall over? "Ron? Look at me, please."

Ron lethargically met Remus' gaze, his vision slowly returning to normal, until finally, he could see every bit of detail on Remus' concerned, and rather guilty, face. Bloody hell, that was the worst one yet.

"Not your fault…" Ron muttered, hoping to ease Remus' conscience. "I'm sick… You didn't do anything wrong…"

Remus' face fell even more, while Sirius' hold on him tightened to the point of causing mild discomfort. I need to speak to my Ravenclaw counterpart. He's a prick, but he's really fucking smart as well. He'll know what's going on, I'm sure of it.

"Sick?" Artyom asked. That's right, he didn't witness the trial.

"We'll talk more later…" Ron groaned, forcing himself to get back up on his feet.

"Kid, don't!" Sirius pleaded, but he helped Ron nonetheless.

"I'm okay," Ron lied, drawing in deep breaths and trying to refocus his mind. "We have work to do…" Stop being such a bitch, Ron. Wake up!

Ron shook his head clear, his senses returning to normal. Where are we? Without delay, Ron began surveying his surroundings, noticing that they were in the middle of nowhere. All I see are hills… Where are the Werewolves?

"Remus? Where are they?" Ron asked, looking back to his fretful Professor.

"Just over that hill," Remus replied, pointing behind himself. "Ron? Are you sure that you're okay? You've lost all the blood in your face."

"Kid, maybe we should sit and rest for a bit?" Sirius suggested.

"I'll rest in my bed once this is done," Ron said, feeling more like himself. "Don't worry about me, think of ways to convince the Werewolves to trust us. Everything we've done, Sirius, everything we've built… It'll mean nothing if they don't want to take the risk of coming down to the Sanctuary."

"We'll convince them," Sirius said resolutely. "I'm sure of it."

"They need your help, Thaddeus understands this," Remus said, shooting a quick look at Artyom. "They know about the truth, Ron…" The truth? Oh, does he mean that they know about the Dark Lord's return to power?

"You mean the Dark Lord's return?" Ron asked. I can use this, I think.

"Kid…" Sirius muttered, looking towards Artyom.

"Artyom knows everything," Ron said. "I told him so he could better protect me, my family, and the Werewolf Sanctuary."

"I have faced his followers before," Artyom said, frowning a little. "If they attack Werewolves, my men and I will kill them all. Have no doubts about that." Good man, they deserve nothing less.

"Well… Shite," Sirius mumbled. "Dumbledore won't be happy about this…"

"Ron, the Headmaster wanted this kept secret-" Remus started.

"And?" Ron cut in. "I'm supposed to care about what he wants? Where is he, Remus? These people needed help long before I came along, and the Headmaster could have helped them if he really set his mind to it. Why should I have my hands tied behind my back due to his schemes?" The old man and his secrets, he's got everyone dancing to his tune, as if he has all the answers about everything. I know for a fact that he is just as uncertain as everyone else.

"He's not wrong, brother," Sirius said, looking to Remus. "Don't you always say that we should prepare for the worst in every situation?"

"It is too late to discuss this," Artyom said. "I know truth, and I don't forget such things. Let's finish this, I want to take client home as quickly as possible."

"I have a name, you know?" Ron sighed out. I don't think he's used my name even once, which is really weird.

"Can you walk?" Sirius asked. "Or, do you need help?"

"I can walk," Ron said, forcing his feet to move. Just breathe, old boy. You're almost there, don't give up now.

The others followed closely at his heel, and after a bit of a climb, they all reached the top of the hill. Not too far from the top was a small camp, hidden between the hills, hosting no more than ten tents. Men and women in shabby clothing were going about their day, doing chores, and from the looks of it, preparing to depart. Have they already made up their minds?

"Security here is pitiful," Artyom commented.

"In these hills, they would sniff you out sooner than they'd see you," Remus said. "Trust me, they know we're here. The only reason why they haven't attacked us, or, run away, is because they know my scent."

"They definitely know we're here," Sirius said, pointing towards an old man who was staring up at them.

"That's Thaddeus, Ron," Remus said. "Come, he's been expecting you."

Remus led the way down, waving towards a couple of burly sentries. They seemed to be on edge, and judging from their stares, Ron figured that they were wary of him, Sirius, and Artyom. At least they trust Remus, and for now, that's more than enough.

Remus led them through the camp, eventually bringing them to Thaddeus himself. The old wolf was waiting for them at the head of his tent, his baggy eyes fixed on them and his poorly-shaved face giving them a worn-out smile. The man looked older than the Headmaster, which spoke volumes on how rough his life had been. I never really noticed, but Remus does look older than Sirius, despite them being the same age.

"Thaddeus," Remus greeted the man with a brotherly hug. "I brought him, just as you asked."

"Good evening, Sir," Ron walked up, putting his gloved hand forward for a shake. "Remus has told me a lot about you, it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Likewise, Mr. Weasley," Thaddeus shook Ron's hand, a chuckle escaping his throat. "And please, there is no need to call me 'Sir'. Just Thaddeus will do."

"Only if you call me Ron, Thaddeus," Ron smiled, making the old wolf chuckle again.

"And you must be Sirius Black," Thaddeus looked Sirius. "Remus' brother in all but blood, am I correct?"

"A pleasure," Sirius shook Thaddeus' hand as well. "Thank you for taking care of this lout after the Great War, and I'm sorry about any trouble he gave you. Remus has always been a problem child, stirring up all sorts of trouble and dragging me into it." I'm pretty sure it's the other way around.

"You were right, Remus," Thaddeus laughed, shooting a look back at him. "He's a troublemaker."

"Sirius just enjoys the sound of his own voice," Ron said, while Remus gave Sirius a dull look.

"And who are you, my boy?" Thaddeus looked Artyom over, his voice losing some of its mirth. "You're not from Magical Britain, that much is certain."

"Artyom," the Russian wizard introduced himself. "I am Head of Security at Werewolf Sanctuary."

"Ah, Remus mentioned that men and women with wands would be protecting us," Thaddeus remembered. "I must say, not all of my brothers and sisters will feel comfortable living under the eyes of a band of mercenaries."

"You will feel less comfortable when Dark Lord turns you into his slaves," Artyom said bluntly. Bloody hell… Why don't you punch him in the mouth next time? It'll be less aggressive.

"Artyom," Ron shot the man a warning look before turning his attention back to Thaddeus. "Sorry about him, he's the sort to speak his mind as plainly as possible. However, he's not wrong. The Dark Lord, and many other forces, will seek to destroy what we're trying to build."

"You know of the Dark Lord as well, then," Thaddeus said solemnly. "I understand why you've taken certain precautions, Ron. I have already spoken to the other Alphas; they will keep their packs under control." Thaddeus then smiled again, gesturing towards his tent. "Come inside, we can talk more once we'd had some tea."

---

Thirty Minutes Later

Thaddeus was certainly an eccentric fellow, though there was an air of wisdom about him that greatly reminded Ron of the Headmaster. Thaddeus had lived a difficult life, being infected at the age of nine didn't leave him with many options; however, instead of resorting to crime as a means to get by, Thaddeus had spent the majority of his life taking care of his fellow Werewolves.

This noble act alone was enough to earn Ron's respect and admiration, but Thaddeus had done so much more than that. He had given his best, even in the most difficult of times, and because of that, people like Remus had been saved from hopelessness and despair.

Remus had explained to Ron just how much Thaddeus had done for him in the days after the Great War, never asking for a single thing in return, and that, without the old wolf's kindness and counsel, he would have ended his own life due to the trauma and heartbreak he had endured after his all of his childhood friends were taken from him.

At the end of Remus' story, Ron had silently vowed to himself that he would not let the Werewolves down. He would give them a home, or, die trying. The Ministry, the Dark Lord, the Old Families … I'll take them all on if that's what it takes. I won't give up, just like Thaddeus never gave up.

"You give me far too much credit, Remus," Thaddeus said, a paternal smile on his face. "You did more for us than we did for you."

"I only taught you a bit of Magic, nothing more," Remus said, guilt more than apparent in his voice. "You gave me a reason to keep going, and instead of sticking with the pack, I snuck away in the darkness of night."

"You weren't ready to open yourself up to another pack," Thaddeus said comfortingly. "None of us ever held your sudden departure against you, my boy. I can't say that we weren't sad to see you gone, but I knew that you would find your way to a pack that would accept you." Thaddeus then looked to Ron, his smile widening. Me? "And now, we're all sitting under one tent. Life is full of these twists and turns, is it not?" Perhaps too many twists and turns, if I'm being honest.

"I can't really say anything abouts packs and such, but…" Ron started, looking to Remus. "He's family to me, and always will be."

Remus finally smiled a little, giving Ron an appreciative nod.

"Is that why you wish to help us?" Thaddeus asked, looking into Ron's eyes. "Because Remus asked you to?"

"Yes, and no," Ron replied. "When I first learned about the treatment of Werewolves, I began thinking of ways to reach out to all of you. Remus certainly played a major role in my decision making, but regardless, I was always going to end up here."

"And what drives a young man such as yourself to help others? Even those despised throughout the Wizarding World?" Thaddeus asked. Am I being interviewed? He wants to see my character for himself? "Why help us, the Werewolves? You had to know that the Ministry would be displeased with you." The secret about my health is already out, so I might as well use it to my advantage.

"I'm very sick, Thaddeus," Ron came clean, surprising the old wolf and Artyom. "Dying, actually… My Healer says that I have two years at most before the lights go out." Though, the ghost following me around says otherwise. My life really is a clusterfuck, isn't it?

Thaddeus slowly looked to Remus, who gave a grave nod.

"I see…" Thaddeus muttered, giving Ron a sorry look. "I am sorry, my boy. No child should have to suffer such an ill fate." You did, as did Remus. I'm nothing special.

"I know how… painful… it is to be condemned to a shitty lot in life, especially because of things out of your control," Ron said. "You, Remus, the other Werewolves… None of you chose this life, and instead of being given sympathy and understanding, you have all been shunned and humiliated. I can't stand that, and I certainly can't ignore it. Injustice should never be tolerated; I live by those words."

Thaddeus nodded to himself, pondering Ron's words.

"Forgive me for bringing this up, but I must know," Thaddeus suddenly said. "What happens to this Sanctuary after you are gone?"

"That's a fair question," Ron said. "What you need to understand is that I'm not the only one who wants to help the Werewolves. The Quibbler's articles are already turning the public's opinion around, most ordinary folk don't want to watch others suffer needlessly. It's only those in power, who directly benefit from your suffering, that are blind to the misery they cause. For centuries, they have peddled lies to the people, controlling your lives and making themselves sound like heroes in the process."

"When I first brought my ideas to my allies, they were quite sceptical, but after I showed them proof of what was really happening under their noses, most of them jumped at the chance to do better," Ron continued, gesturing towards Sirius. "Sirius is one of the investors putting thousands of Galleons into this project. I truly believe that, after I'm gone, he will continue to provide support to the Werewolf community. Lord and Lady Fawley, Lady Longbottom, Lord and Lady Greengrass, you, me… We're all in this together, now."

Ron then adorned a more serious expression.

"And if that isn't enough for you," Ron started. "Then, know this as well. We, the investors, also benefit greatly from this union. Thousands will know our names, our businesses will prosper due to goodwill, and our influence amongst the general public will rise exponentially if this Sanctuary succeeds. Every party involved benefits from this, and that alone will be reason enough for others to join our cause." Ron then leaned forward. "If we can make this work, Thaddeus, we could even weaken the spread of Lycanthropy. Isn't that what we all want in the end? To find a way to defeat this Curse?"

Thaddeus nodded to himself, he wanted nothing more than to put an end to this vile Curse.

"You certainly know how to sell your ideas, my boy," Thaddeus said eventually. "I want my people to have a place to call home, I've spent my entire life fighting for this dream. I truly believe that this is our only real hope of having a 'normal' life. However, not all of my people believe as I do. Convincing them will not be easy."

"They won't listen to me, I'm not one of you," Ron said. "It's up to you to convince your people, Thaddeus."

"The Werewolf Capture Unit is their biggest worry," Thaddeus told them. "I know the man who leads the WCU, Cecil Lee. He's a reasonable man, and he has shown mercy to many Werewolves within my own camp in the past. His men, unfortunately, are not as reasonable, and Cecil can't always control them."

"I've met Cecil Lee," Ron remembered. "He… wasn't like Umbridge and Thicknesse. He was quiet, and judging by the looks he was giving those two when we met, he didn't agree with what they were saying."

"If the Werewolf Capture Unit can be convinced to show leniency to my people, they will take the leap of faith," Thaddeus said with absolute certainty.

"We'd need to talk to Pius Thicknesse about this," Sirius spoke up. "He's the Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, the Werewolf Capture Unit falls under his jurisdiction."

"And he despises Werewolves," Remus sighed out. "One step forward, two steps back…"

"Not necessarily," Ron said. "I've spoken to Madam Bones about working out a compromise, it's the only way forward in my mind."

"A compromise?" Thaddeus asked. "Go on, my boy, tell us your thoughts."

"The Werewolf Capture Unit plans to arrest anyone who signs the Werewolf Registration," Ron started. "As tactless as the Werewolf Registration Act is, it is still Magical Law. We can't abolish the Anti-Werewolf Legislation in a handful of days, that'll take a long time. So, what if the Werewolves were to sign the Werewolf Registration as an act of good faith, and in return, they were allowed into the Werewolf Sanctuary without being harassed? The Ministry would come across as reasonable and understanding, something that they desperately need right now, and the Werewolves get to start their new lives without the Ministry at their heels."

"You want them to put a target on their backs?" Remus asked. "Ron… No one will agree to this."

"Then, give me another solution," Ron said, looking towards Remus. "If you think that Pius Thicknesse will let us walk all over him, then I'm afraid you don't understand how these people think. Fudge and Umbridge were behind my trial, not Thicknesse. He knows that I've got nothing on him, especially because he's only doing his job. Now, I can try to pressure him into letting me have my way, but with just four days left before the next full moon, I'm not going win this fight."

Ron then looked back to Thaddeus.

"Madam Bones owes me," Ron said. "She is well-respected within the Ministry, and right now, she's the only person capable of getting the Ministry back on track. She can bring Thicknesse to the table, and when I offer him a deal which benefits him as well as the Ministry, he'll be more inclined to leave the Werewolves alone."

"Signing our names into a book, as if we're a herd of cattle that has to be accounted for…" Thaddeus said, looking conflicted. Really? After all I've been through for your people, you lot can't take a little humiliation? That's it… I've tried being reasonable and kind, but now, I need to show Thaddeus the harsh reality he's facing.

"I know it's demeaning," Ron said, his features hardening. "But it beats being a slave to the Goblins, doesn't it? It beats dying of hunger and disease, doesn't it?"

"Ron-!" Remus started.

"Be quiet," Ron shut him down without hesitation, while Thaddeus gave Ron an alarmed look. "Listen to me, and listen well… No one else is lining up to offer you help, I'm your only hope. After me, it'll be the Dark Lord who comes to you with an offer. Tell me, which is worse; signing your names onto a bit of parchment? Or, being meat in the Dark Lord's army? Fenrir Greyback is one of the Dark Lord's oldest followers, and he will come looking for all of you when his Master commands him to."

Ron suddenly drew in a deep breath, leveling his mind and regaining his composure. Now, let's try this again.

"This compromise can work, and in the long run, it does a lot more good than bad," Ron said, his voice smoother. "I can't force you and your people into this, Thaddeus; I don't want to. It has to be your choice; I can only lay the groundwork needed for this to work. If you can't put aside your prides, then this Sanctuary will fail. Your people will continue to suffer, while the investors and I will look like fools. Now, if you tell me to piss off, I'll quietly leave and not trouble any of you further. But, if you agree to give this a chance, then we can all start working towards a better future for the Werewolf community. It's up to you, Thaddeus. Give me your answer."

---

Monday 22nd February, 1994 (The Leaky Cauldron – Nearly Dinner)

"You did good today, kid," Sirius patted his back. "Especially with Thaddeus, I could tell that he was starting to get cold feet."

"Thanks," Ron said, his eyes fixed on the fireplace. I don't want to go home. I know they'll all be waiting to jump me the moment I step through the floo.

"Are you all right?" Sirius asked. "Ron, you're acting a little strange all of a sudden. Are you worried that the other Werewolves won't follow Thaddeus and Remus?"

"I've done all I can, if they don't want my help, I won't offer it to them," Ron said. Maybe I should return to Hogwarts instead? No, I don't have my trunk, and Marty can't retrieve it for me because of the Fidelius Charm. Plus, that'll just make everyone worry needlessly.

"Are we to stand here all day?" Artyom suddenly asked. "Make decision."

"Ron, what's wrong?" Sirius asked, his brow furrowed. "You won the trial, you got Thaddeus to start moving the camps again, and now, we might even have a solution to the WCU… Why aren't you in a good mood?" Because I want to be alone, but that's impossible in The Burrow. I'll have people all over me, throwing questions at me and putting their hands on me.

Merlin, he really didn't want to go back home. Fuck it… There's no point in just standing here, I'm wasting everyone's time. Ron walked over to the fireplace, preparing it for a floo-jump to The Burrow. I'll take my food and go straight to my room, that might buy me some peace and quiet.

"Let's go," Ron said, heading through the blazing green flames.

Shockingly, the living room was completely empty, and a for a brief moment, Ron felt truly relieved. Thank you, Gods! Wait… Shit, they're probably in the kitchen. It's nearly time for dinner, isn't it? Artyom and Sirius followed Ron into The Burrow, with Artyom shutting down the floo connection shortly after.

"We must make fireplace more secure," Artyom told Ron. "Put Charms to Ward off Dark Creatures, like Werewolves and Vampires." Not a bad idea, Remus will just need to find another way to reach The Burrow, then.

"Where did you find this bloke, Ron?" Sirius asked. "Does he ever stop being so grim?" Do you ever take anything seriously? He's done more to protect my family than my own father, that's reason enough to listen to his advice.

Ron said nothing, silently heading towards the kitchen. He felt utterly exhausted, both emotionally and physically. The entire Wizarding World would know his secret by tomorrow morning, and as such, he would never be treated like an ordinary person again. He already knew, from experience, that even the Professors of Hogwarts walked on eggshells around him, so he didn't even want to think about how the student-body would react. Honestly, most of them will be glad to be rid of me, not that I blame them. I want to be rid of me as well.

"Ronald! Where have you been?!" Molly exclaimed at the first sight of him. Wow, it's almost like I can see the future…

"He was with Remus and me," Sirius said, entering the kitchen with Artyom in tow. "We had a long chat with Thaddeus, the Alpha leading the packs down to Kent."

"And how did that go, dear boy?" came Dumbledore's voice, Ron had completely missed the Headmaster sitting at the head of the Weasley table. Fuck me, I'm so out of it.

Ron's eyes moved slowly around the room, eyeing each and every person stuffed inside the small kitchen. Xeno, Pandora, Mary, Lord Greengrass, Dumbledore, Molly, Arthur, Bill, Charlie, and Kirsten were scattered throughout the room, all of their eyes fixed on Ron. Pandora's been crying… A strong pang of guilt stung Ron's mind, making him feel even more exhausted. Why is she even here? I thought I told her to not return until I was gone.

"Thaddeus was starting to get cold feet," Ron said, his eyes now fixed solely on Dumbledore. "I fixed that; everything is now back on track."

"Excellent news," Dumbledore smiled. "Well done, my boy. Well done."

"Thank you," Ron said, turning towards the stairs. "Mum, I'm going to bed. It's been a long day, and I need some rest-"

"Before you go, do you mind if we speak?" Dumbledore interjected.

"Ron, the Headmaster came all the way down here to check up on you," Arthur added. So, we're having this conversation tonight? Brilliant…

Even though every fibre of his being was telling him to leave, Ron decided to face his problems head on. I have questions of my own, and now is as good a time as any to ask them. Whether I like it or not, I need the Headmaster on my side. He's the only man powerful enough to face the Dark Lord, and despite his mistakes, I know that he's a good person. How should I play this-?

"Ronald?" came Dumbledore's voice. "My boy, are you feeling unwell? I can come back tomorrow-"

"No, I'm just…" Ron shook his head clear. I'm being weak and indecisive. "I'm fine, let's go up to my room."

"Then, lead the way, dear boy," Dumbledore rose up from his seat, looking towards Molly. "Thank you for the roast, Molly. I haven't eaten so well in quite a while."

"Oh, it's nothing," Molly said quickly, feeling a little flustered. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, a man your age shouldn't run on an empty stomach." Did she just call him old to his face?

"You will find no argument here," Dumbledore chuckled, making his way over to Ron

"Artyom, you're free to eat and relax for the night," Ron ordered, heading up the stairs.

Dumbledore followed after him quietly, his twinkling eyes shooting from wall to wall, as if he were trying to memorize The Burrow's interior for some odd reason.

"I always enjoy my visits to your home, Ronald," Dumbledore suddenly said. "It's so very cosy-"

"It's cramped," Ron said bluntly. "There's no need to lie, Headmaster."

"I'm not lying, my boy," Dumbledore said, and Ron couldn't help but scoff. "I wish I grew up in such a happy home, you are very fortunate-"

"Fortunate?" Ron let out an icy chuckle. "Yeah, that's me… Ronald Weasley, the most fortunate chap to ever breathe. Spare me the idle chit-chat, say your piece and then sod off."

"You are angry with me," Dumbledore said, his footsteps coming to a halt.

"What makes you think that, Headmaster?" Ron turned around; his face devoid of any emotion. "What reason would I have to be angry with you? It's not like you painted me as a fool to the whole Wizarding World, right? It's not like you put your mistakes on my shoulders, right?"

"I am sorry about what happened at the trial," Dumbledore apologized, looking a decade older than he was. "I know that I've caused you a great deal of despair, especially in the last few weeks-"

"You abandoned me," Ron felt his temper spike. "You and Professor Snape… You both knew why I tried to throw myself off of that tower, but you couldn't have cared less. I needed you, but you weren't there. Instead, you threw me away like a broken toy, and I was forced to deal with my overbearing family and their constant judgement."

"I know…" Dumbledore all but whispered, regret written all over his face. "I had hoped that your mother and father would reach out to you, but I miscalculated-"

"Miscalculated?" Ron hissed. "You fucking prick… You treat people like they're chess pieces, always trying your darndest to twist every situation to your advantage." Ron then turned around, heading towards his room once again. "Miscalculated, he says…" Manipulative old cunt.

Dumbledore followed silently after that, his eyes dull and weary. Once they had reached their destination, Ron locked the door and placed a Silencing Charm around them in order to disrupt any potential eavesdroppers. Dumbledore looked around the clean, but small, room, the green walls had definitely caught his attention.

"We can speak freely, now," Ron walked over to Dumbledore, and as soon as the old man turned to face him, Ron clocked him square on the nose.

There was a sickening crunch, followed by the sound of Dumbledore falling on his arse, a dazed look on his face. There, we're somewhat even, now.

"Ronald…" Dumbledore muttered in disbelief, drops of blood trickling out of his reddening nose and onto his beard. "You… broke my nose…"

"You deserve far worse," Ron sneered down at the old man. "You're lucky that I didn't put my hand through your chest just now."

Ron then pulled out his Cypress Wand, walking over and kneeling down by Dumbledore's side. The Headmaster was still reeling from the punch, his right hand trepidly checking the damage.

"Let me heal it," Ron said, moving Dumbledore's hand away from his nose. "Episkey."

There was another crunch, and Dumbledore let out a pained grunt as his nose was realigned back into place. Ron sheathed his wand, placed the Headmaster's arm around his shoulders, and lifted the old wizard off of the floor.

"Sit," Ron said, guiding Dumbledore to the chair and placing him in it.

Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his nose, still checking for any damage, but finding none.

"Proficient use of the Healing Charm," Dumbledore noted. "I didn't know that you were so accustomed to using it, my boy." It comes in handy whenever the P-12 kicks my arse.

"Of course, only you would say that after getting clocked," Ron said, pulling out his handkerchief and offering it to Dumbledore. "Here, use this for the blood."

Dumbledore accepted the handkerchief, dabbing his nose and beard.

"Do you feel better, now?" Dumbledore asked, his voice nasally.

"Yes," Ron admitted, moving to his bed and sitting on the edge. "Are you still in pain?"

"No, the damage has been healed," Dumbledore replied, shaking his head clear. "Merlin, that was most unexpected."

Dumbledore then blew his nose into the handkerchief, forcing the remaining blood out of his nostrils.

"Right, you can keep that," Ron grimaced, though he felt a lot better now that he had hit something. "Why are you here, Headmaster? Is it to scold me about my recent activities?"

"I am not here to scold you, Ronald," Dumbledore replied, banishing the bloodied handkerchief. "I am here because I am worried about you. You were right to say that I abandoned you, I could not look past the obvious, and for that, I am deeply sorry."

"The obvious?" Ron asked. "You mean the Cycle, right? I nearly ended it…" Not my best moment, that's for certain.

"Severus and I have spent a very long time fighting this war, and I believe that has clouded our judgement," Dumbledore said, speaking more to himself than to Ron. "In the moments after you were discovered, I could not see what was really important. All the losses we've endured, all the pain we've been forced to live with… I failed to see your pain in all of that." Dumbledore then met Ron's gaze, there was genuine regret marring his features. "I failed you, and for that, I am truly sorry, dear boy."

Ron shifted a little in his spot, he hadn't expected the conversation to go in this direction. I figured that he'd be upset over what I had done to the Carrow Twins, especially given the fact that he's cast me out of the Order.

"If you really are sorry, then why did you tell Professor Snape to cast me out?" Ron asked.

"Because you nearly killed a seventeen-year-old girl over nothing," Dumbledore replied, leaning forward. "Ronald… Carey did not deserve the punishment you inflicted upon her; can you not understand that she might have been struggling with the revelation of Lord Voldemort's return? Her entire future, the one she has spent most of her time at Hogwarts preparing for, has been forever tarnished, and now, she has to prepare herself for a war. She could lose her friends, her family… Can you not understand that she was afraid all along? She did not deserve your wrath; she needed a guiding hand. She needed our help."

Ron looked down at his feet, feeling a strong pang of guilt in regards to the former Triumvirate once again. I really fucked up with them, and if it weren't for Professor Snape, they would've walked away from the Order. Samantha might've even joined the Dark Lord, handing him the Selwyn fortune in the process.

"Can you promise me that you won't act in such a manner if someone else from the Order disappoints you?" Dumbledore asked. "Answer honestly, Ronald… Are you completely certain that you can control your anger?" No…

Ron shook his head, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. Why am I like this? It's like my brain stops working whenever I get upset…

"I am not trying to hurt you, my boy," Dumbledore moved off of the chair, sitting down next to Ron. "I know how difficult this life is; the constant pressure can choke the life out of you. So much can be lost within a heartbeat, loved ones can die if we make the smallest of mistakes. I know that you would never purposefully harm the innocent, you've shown me just how much good you are capable of." Dumbledore slowly placed his hand on Ron's shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze as soon as Ron tensed up. "You are my friend, Ronald, and I care about you. However, I cannot, in good conscience, let you do whatever you please. Wars have been lost for less, and make no mistake, our war hasn't even begun yet."

"I know I fucked up," Ron agreed, there was so much conflict in him that he feared he would explode. "I know that I wasn't helping anyone when I attacked Carey, I was just… I was so angry, Headmaster… It was like there was a fog inside my skull, everything felt so murky… I just wanted things to be fixed, I just wanted them to do their jobs. But then, she and I talked, and she was just so bloody superior… I was stupid to even go there, that was my first mistake."

Ron drew in a deep breath to calm his mind, wondering what to say next. A part of him wanted to keep working with Dumbledore and Snape, three heads were definitely better than one, especially because the Dark Lord was a very capable enemy. However, he knew that he couldn't bring himself to agree with the Headmaster on everything. Ron had no mercy for the Dark Lord and his followers, he was entirely incapable of it.

He wanted to kill them; they were the reason why the Cycles even existed in the first place. It's their blind hatred that caused Fate to interfere, my past self didn't choose to start a fucking war over Blood-Status, he was just mixed up in this madness. Sure, he was a weak-willed loser from what I've seen, but regardless, he was a victim.

"I'm going to keep killing the Death-Eaters," Ron suddenly said, making Dumbledore blink. "I know you don't agree with me on this, you want to see the best in people and offer them redemption… But me? I want to punish them."

"Ronald-" Dumbledore started.

"I'm not you," Ron cut him off. "I respect you, and I look up to you. Even after everything that's happened, I think you're absolutely brilliant… But I hate the Death-Eaters a lot more than I admire you. Bloody hell… Right now, I hate them more than I love my family and friends, even. Just the thought of them turns my stomach, they are utterly devoid of any humanity and reason. They deserve no mercy, they deserve nothing but pain and misery, and I won't stop until they're all dead."

Dumbledore said nothing, though he didn't look upset, which was a good sign.

"If we work together, if we move on from all the mistakes we've made, the Dark Lord will be at a disadvantage; it'll be three against one," Ron continued. "However, if you can't accept this about me, then I will leave the Order behind and continue fighting the war on my own terms, and that divide between us will surely help the Dark Lord. Every time we think we have the advantage over him, he still manages to come out on top. He's smarter than pretty much everyone, and he's willing to do whatever it takes to win."

"You have spent years hiding from the power given to you, and I understand why you feel that way, given what happened to your sister," Ron said, minding his words. "However, in my eyes, your reasons for not exercising your powers are very selfish, and the fact that you still hold onto this power, instead of entrusting another with it, speaks volumes about your lack of trust in others. You're like me, Headmaster; you don't trust anyone to do the right thing. You've come to understand that people always take the easy way out, it's in our nature to want to be comfortable. Am I wrong?"

"No, my boy," Dumbledore shook his head. "History backs your claims, we Wizards crave power and wealth above all else, and if it comes at the expense of others, then so be it."

"You could've changed the fates of so many, but instead, you sat by and waited for the Wizarding World to wake up," Ron said, feeling even more weary. "You didn't even help the Squib children until I came to you, nothing can justify that. You knew about them all along, and it sickens me that you could allow this to happen right under your nose." Tone it down, Ron… Don't get so riled up, you just talked with the old man about this.

Ron drew in another deep breath, rubbing his face harshly.

"The Wizarding World is a right mess, and you've played a big role in that shitshow," Ron continued. "You regret it, I can see that easily enough, just like I regret my moments of foolishness… I nearly destroyed all of your hard work by trying to off myself-"

"My boy, please don't speak so lowly of yourself-" Dumbledore urged.

"I'm just saying it like it is," Ron said. "I fucked up, and I can accept that and move on. I don't have any other choice in the matter, none of us do. We've all made mistakes that have landed us here, and the only way to fix that is to accept the blame. Right?"

"When Amelia becomes the Minister, I will set the record straight, Ronald," Dumbledore promised. "I will tell the Wizarding World the truth about your injuries."

"And what will that do?" Ron asked. "Will it undo the damage? Will it heal me? No, Headmaster, it will create a mountain of problems for you, and that will only help the Dark Lord in tarnishing your name. What's the point in creating more problems? It's best if we just move on." This is for the best, even if I hate it.

Ron suddenly stood up, interrupting Dumbledore before he could say anything.

"Working together is still our best option," Ron repeated. "But from now on, you'll actually listen to me instead of just shutting me down without a debate. I'll work on my anger problem, and I'll stay away from Carey, Clara, and Samantha. Deal?"

"If I reject this offer, will you return to Emilia Travers' side?" Dumbledore asked, taking Ron by surprise. Oh, shit… Did I leave a trail? "I spoke to Oscar Fawley, he told me that your private army never left the Werewolf Sanctuary. This means that you worked with someone else, and the only person I could think of was Miss. Travers. You two spoke privately at the Gala, as I recall. Not to mention, I have witnessed her barbarity before, she left that Vampire's head on a pike in front of Knockturn Alley." He should've become an Auror…

"She is my friend," Ron said, keeping his composure. "If you go after mine, I'll go after yours."

"She is a lost soul, Ronald," Dumbledore advised. "If you follow after her, you will become lost as well."

"She's got good in her," Ron said. "I've seen it, she cares about her family. She is fighting to get justice for what happened to her mother and father."

"What form of justice involves butchering people?" Dumbledore asked. "How can anyone justify the brutality of the killings?"

"Did you not see what they were doing?" Ron asked in return. "They were using Necromancy, they were torturing children… They were fucking mental, no better than rabid dogs. Putting them down was the right call."

"My boy, listen to yourself," Dumbledore sighed out. "There is so much hatred in you, and one of these days, it will destroy you."

"Your sense of sympathy is going to get thousands killed," Ron said defensively. "The Loyalists have escaped; in case you didn't know. I warned you this would happen, but you refused to listen. Now, they're going to kill everyone they cross paths with. They just spent a decade in Azkaban, do you really think they've kept their marbles?"

"Their escape is unfortunate," Dumbledore started. "However, the principles of a man should matter, Ronald. Becoming like them is not the answer. Dark times lie ahead of us, and there will be a time when we must choose between what is easy and what is right. Fighting is guaranteed, but you must choose what is worth fighting for. Vengeance? Or, peace?"

"How about lives?" Ron asked. "If you care more about your principles than you do about actual people, then there is something wrong with you. I was chosen to save lives, including Harry Potter's life. I saw it for myself, no matter how wrong it was, I saw it. Let me ask you this, Headmaster; what happens to you if the Cycle ends?"

Dumbledore gave Ron a steady look, thinking his answer through.

"I would cease to exist, I imagine," Dumbledore replied. "I believe the Entity does not follow the conventional laws of time travel. With a Time-Turner, a wizard may return to the past, but they cannot alert their past self or change anything of significance. It is always a closed loop, making time travel more dangerous than it is worth. The Entity, however, returns to a time when you are only eight years old. It retains its memories, and influences the next Cycle accordingly. I believe it completely wipes out the previous timeline during the jump, which means that our Universe itself is stuck in a time-loop, constantly replaying the Cycles. It is… extraordinary… Truly fascinating." Um… Okay, that was a really detailed answer.

"Right…" Ron said, ignoring the jargon. "Do you know what happens to me?"

"Nothing good, I imagine," Dumbledore said, looking more empathetic.

"The Entity gets me," Ron said, tensing up a little. "It fucking gets me, Headmaster, for all of eternity. Do you see how fucked I am? I can't go out like that; it's not fucking fair. I don't… I can't get trapped with that thing."

The room felt much hotter than it was, and Ron could feel his anxiety crawling over his skin. Even thinking of the Entity was too much, apparently. Of all the dark things out there, Ron just had to get stuck with the worst one… The most powerful one. He was so utterly fucked, and he bloody knew it.

"My only hope is to succeed, and then, to beg the Elders to show me some mercy," Ron said, rubbing his temples. "That's all I've got left, does this sound like the easy path to you? You're being really fucking unfair…"

"Ronald… Of course, it's different for you," Dumbledore gestured Ron to sit back down. "Your situation is always at the forefront of my mind-"

"Is it?" Ron asked. "Because it doesn't feel that way… I had to face the Entity alone, again. I had to fight it; I could've died. It was driving me insane, and I couldn't turn to anyone. All you seem to care about are the Death-Eaters, who got exactly what they deserved."

"There is a proper way of achieving one's goals, Ronald," Dumbledore urged.

"What is the proper way?" Ron asked. "Look at what's happening out there, hundreds have already died; an entire forest and all life in it were destroyed, St. Mungo's was torched to the ground, Knockturn Alley has been turned into a graveyard, and now, Azkaban has fallen. The Dark Lord had even managed to secure the alliances of all the degenerates attending the Carrow Twins' gathering, he was about to gain allies in every corner of the Wizarding World. Emilia and I stopped that from happening, we saved far more lives than we took."

"Now, things did get out of hand, but we can fix that," Ron went on. "I can fix it, Headmaster. You just have to trust me, that's all I'm asking for. I've always put my faith in you, can't you do the same? Do you care more about your principles than you do about me?"

Dumbledore went eerily quiet, putting his fingertips together and disappearing into his thoughts. This gave Ron the chance to slow down, he could think instead of rant. No matter how I look at it, I can't see anyone but Dumbledore being able to defeat the Dark Lord. The old man is the only one who is powerful enough to even face that lunatic. I need him, just like he needs me. He better see that, because if he tosses me away again, I won't be coming back.

"We go back to the way things were," Dumbledore suddenly spoke. "You, Severus, and me; working together and sharing information. Emilia will leave the Order, but you can continue working with her, under Severus' supervision."

"Supervision?" Ron frowned. "Are you joking?"

"Severus shares your opinion when it comes to dealing with the Death-Eaters," Dumbledore said. "He too believes that they deserve little more than death." Dumbledore then gave Ron a meaningful look. "Severus, however, also believes that some lines are not worth crossing. You will need his help, Ronald; he would agree with me on this."

"Are you separating the Order into two categories?" Ron blinked; this was rather unexpected.

"It is as you said, we must overcome this evil together," Dumbledore stood up. "But the Order has to represent the best in us, it cannot stand for vengeance."

"So, you get to run both sides, is that it?" Ron asked. "I didn't defeat the Entity just to give you the reins, I'm no one's lackey-"

"You and Severus can fight for your principles, while I will fight for the Order's," Dumbledore clarified. "We work together, but not get in each other's way. Isn't that what you want?"

"It is, but Professor Snape will do whatever you tell him to do," Ron pointed out.

"Severus is many things, 'lackey' is not one of them," Dumbledore said. "You know it as well as I do, he has a very strong dislike of Lord Voldemort." True, especially after what he's been through. This could work, if I'm careful.

"I'm taking Solomon as well, then," Ron said. "He's a crook, but he's too useful to be let go. The Order won't use him effectively, they might even turn him away from our cause. Professor Snape will definitely know how to keep him loyal." Should I tell him about Lord Greengrass? No, it's better to keep that card for later.

"Everything goes through Severus, are we clear?" Dumbledore asked.

"Fine, but you better keep your word this time," Ron replied. "We're partners, with equal say in all matters."

"Oh, and you will start visiting Madam Pomfrey again," Dumbledore added. "She had quite the go at me, Ronald. This is not up for debate. She is free on Mondays, after classes."

"Why was she angry with you?" Ron couldn't help but ask.

"She cares about you, and I have caused you much distress," Dumbledore explained. "She wanted me to urge you on her behalf, and I concur. It will do you good, you need to be at your best, don't you?" It was good to talk to her again, and she did come through for me. I don't see why not. Maybe returning to a routine will be good for me.

"Okay, I can agree to those terms," Ron put his gloved hand forward.

"Then, let us start anew," Dumbledore shook his hand firmly, a twinkle returning in his eye. "Much has changed, but if we remain united, we will all get through this."

Ron nodded along, not sure of what else to say. I get to keep working with Emilia, but Professor Snape will keep his eye on us… This will cause problems; Emilia isn't one to take orders. Plus, Professor Snape was a Death-Eater. What is the old man thinking? At least, he didn't lock me away. We can still work together; we just need to look past our failures-

"My boy, are you there?" Dumbledore shook him lightly, concern written all over his face.

"Pardon?" Ron broke out of his thoughts.

"I wanted to discuss the tension within this house," Dumbledore said, immediately causing Ron to tense up.

"What tension?" Ron asked defensively.

"My boy, you are not exactly the poster child for exemplary behaviour," Dumbledore chuckled. "Even now, you are growling as if you were a cornered beast."

"Ease up," Ron sighed out, trying to relax himself. "It's not even your business, what do you care?"

"They are worried," Dumbledore said gently, irking Ron once more. "Pandora is close to giving birth, this could be a new beginning for everyone. Don't let pride ruin what's truly important; I have travelled that road, and it is a painful one. Learn from me, please… Speak to them from the heart, and move forward. Have you not expelled enough anger?" I do feel drained, I need a damn break.

"They make me feel like I'm worthless…" Ron muttered under his breath, simmering down a little. "I'm not worthless-"

"Tell them that," Dumbledore interjected. "Your entire family waited for you get home, they're all sitting around that table. Alive, and still within reach. Speak to them, not to me. Just let it all go, Ronald."

"It's not that easy," Ron said, shaking his head. "They don't like me… None of them… It's not the same anymore. I ruined it all, and they bloody well helped."

"Nothing is beyond repair," Dumbledore said sagely. "And something as beautiful as love is worth fighting for. Don't throw it away, my boy; hold onto it for a little longer. Be the man I know you are, give them a chance. It will set you free of turmoil."

"So, they get to win, again?" Ron couldn't help but sound bitter.

"There is no winning or losing when it comes to family," Dumbledore replied. "You get what you put in."

"And what did they put in?" Ron asked heatedly. "Just endless fighting and judgement…"

"You've done some questionable things, Ronald," Dumbledore said, his voice oddly blunt. "You have given them many reasons to investigate and interfere with your affairs, even you cannot deny this. However, Molly and Arthur have always been spurred by their emotions, and as such; they made some regrettable choices."

"Regrettable choices?" Ron scoffed. "I'm their regrettable choice, they've made that abundantly clear. Dad even said it to my face-"

"Arthur spoke in heat," Dumbledore said clearly. "He almost lost his son, my boy. If it weren't for Severus, no one would have found you in time. Arthur feels responsible, which is a great deal more than most boys your age get. You know I am right in this; you must be the one to end this 'endless fighting and judgement'."

"Of course, I have to do everything," Ron muttered sourly. "It's always got to be me, eh?"

"They have asked for forgiveness repeatedly, but you have offered little more than scorn in return," Dumbledore said. "Is it any wonder Pandora would feel sympathetic towards your parents? You have become bitter in all things; this is the real problem. The hatred you foster in your heart is poisoning you, it is twisting everything good in your life." Dumbledore's features suddenly softened. "Ronald, I have been where you are now, and I chose poorly. Don't repeat my mistakes. Take the opportunities given to you, some of us want nothing more than a moment of what you have."

Ron found it hard to say anything in return, though he was still not pleased with the idea of simply forgiving and forgetting. With the Headmaster, I have every reason to work out a truce. But with my family, I don't see why I should keep bothering. It's just another problem, and I'm sick of my problems.

"You will have to decide this on your own," Dumbledore said, suddenly standing up. "I must return to the Wizengamot; we must issue an apology to the Muggle families and Government Officials who have seen our darker nature."

"Why even bring up my family if you weren't going to help me?" Ron asked.

"I was just… making you aware," Dumbledore smiled from the door. "We will speak more when you finally return to the castle."

"Right…" Ron muttered under his breath. "Thanks for dropping by, talking to you always leaves me feeling like shit."

"It is one of my many gifts, my boy," Dumbledore left with another chuckle.

Ron waited for a few minutes, silently thinking about what to do next. He had to talk to Amelia Bones about the Werewolves, he had to inform Emilia Travers about Professor Snape, and now, he probably needed to open up to his family. Once I'm at Hogwarts, I'll finally have some peace and quiet.

---

Percy Weasley's POV

Monday 22nd February, 1994 (The Great Hall – Dinner)

Percy was starting to struggle; his studies were getting harder, not that that mattered because he still didn't have any contacts within the Ministry. His perfect future was looking less perfect by the minute, and it felt as though he could do little but stand by and watch his life crumble.

First, it had been the attack on Ron, which had resulted in a poor girl losing her life. Percy knew Tracey Davis was never going to recover, her injuries were no longer physical. It was an odd feeling, to mourn for a girl that he never quite spoken to. Still, she had died saving his brother, while he had been hopelessly terrified of the commotion that had followed. She had done right by Ron, while Percy had failed.

Then, it was the Ministry's turn to shake him to the core. Minister Fudge, a man Percy had recently thought highly off, was some sleezy, corrupt caricature of a man; one who had the gall to destroy a Magical District and then blame a child for causing 'civil unrest'. It was utterly preposterous, and it had left Percy wondering if the Ministry was even worth joining. After all, there was something very wrong with the institution from what Percy himself had seen. Couldn't he do better? He still wished to become Minister for Magic, that much hadn't changed, but his faith in the Ministry had weakened over the last few days.

He had even thought of steering clear of the British Ministry, he knew that he was talented enough to find work overseas. However, if he left Magical Britain, he couldn't remain close to his family. He would be forced to leave them behind, and he no longer believed that he could just walk away, not when Ron and Ginny still needed him.

Ginny was finally starting to heal; everyone could see that. She was truly trying her best, even asking him for help on her homework whenever it suited her. She wasn't exactly popular, but the Golden Trio seemed to enjoy her company, which was no doubt helping her feel less lonely. Luna too had noticed Ginny's change, and was quite eager to make up with her; something that Percy was looking forward to.

Ginny was on the mend, though, that could change given what Percy had just read.

The Daily Prophet had sent out a Night-Issue, summing up Ron's trial and reporting on the Wizengamot's verdict. Ron had been found innocent, much to Percy's relief, but as Percy had continued to read Skeeter's article, he had found himself filled with dread and guilt in equal measure.

Ron had attempted suicide, a fact that Percy was not made aware of, despite the fact that his prefects were the ones who had saved Ron. Ron had tried to jump off of the Astronomy Tower, he had come to the castle specifically to commit suicide via jumping. Percy was having a difficult time moving past Ron's actions, all he wanted to do was to find Ron and ask him for an explanation.

His sick, little brother was so close to being lost, and Percy had no idea… The guilt was unbearable, and the dread of losing Ron was more prevalent than ever. What was he supposed to do, now? He knew that Ron wasn't the sort to open up, not anymore; what could he possible say to the younger wizard? What did he even want to say?

Percy just wasn't sure about anything anymore, his entire life felt derailed in one way or another. Mum and dad, Ron, Ginny, the Ministry, the war, the Order… I don't know what to do about any of this. I just keep studying, but is that changing anything? No… Life is getting harder and harder, maybe it's best if we Weasleys just leave? Start anew?

"Percy, tell us that you think this is bullocks," Fred cut into Percy's thoughts.

"It's not, Ron's been acting off lately," George said, taking the seat to Fred's right.

"It's because he feels guilty over Tracey Davis," Ginny popped in, planting herself to Percy's left. "Lavender and Parvati are telling everyone… I overheard them; the whole school is never going to shut up about this. Percy, what happened?"

Percy had no real answer to give her.

"It looks like Ron used everything he could to win the trial," Percy figured. "And evidently, none of us know much about our brother."

"They mentioned his scars, Percy," Fred hissed.

"You knew about his scars?" Ginny looked to Percy. "Thanks for sharing that, I would've liked to know."

"What reason would I have to show something so horrible to you?" Percy asked.

"Wow… That's your brother, Percy," Ginny sneered defiantly. This brat, she's pushing my buttons.

"What are we going to do?" George knocked on the table. "People are already talking about us; I don't like it very much right now."

"Ginny, go get Luna," Percy said, standing up. "We'll talk in the abandoned class room, the one on the third floor. There's so much to sift through."

"What about Ron's friends?" George asked, earning surprised looks. "What? They know him better than we do, they could help us make sense of things." Not a bad idea, but we can't do it now.

"George, remember this morning?" Ginny asked. "Those Death-Eater murders Ron reported on? Merlin, it was utterly barbaric…"

"Everyone is avoiding the Slytherins, but only because some got orphaned," Percy explained. "The moment the sympathy clock runs out, it'll be open season on them."

"Some would deserve it," Fred said. "The Muggle-Borns are horrified, poor Colin can't sit still. The whole school has been terrorised by these so called 'Noblemen'. Bloody animals, the lot of them."

"You don't mean that," George followed up immediately. "The kids weren't at those parties; they were right here with us. You can't be that impractical, Fred, we sell our best merchandise to the Slytherins." Merchandise? Selling? What the hell?!

"Can I bring the Trio as well?" Ginny asked cut in before Percy could start. "They'll want to know about this." Why? What business do they have with Ron?

"Fine…" Percy allowed it, grumbling at the twins. Just keep a lid on it, Perce. Figure out what pushed Ron so far first, then do something about the twins.

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Monday 22nd February, 1994 (The Burrow – Dinner)

What the fuck was he supposed to say?

Ron had finished his meal ten minutes ago, and now, he was poking his last bit of greens while the adults socialised. He was supposed to speak from the heart, but the proper moment had never come.

Pandora had continued shooting him subtle looks throughout dinner, like he was going to explode and start yelling. She didn't know that Ron was too tired to yell, so he understood her wariness, even if it bothered him. He had met her gaze a couple of times, though both times he had come to regret that decision. She was clearly afraid of him, of his temper, and he couldn't blame her.

Lord Greengrass, Arthur, Sirius, Xeno, Bill, and Charlie were now having pints, while the witches discussed Pandora's upcoming delivery; leaving Ron in the middle, quiet as a mouse. He wanted to start somehow, but with what? Was he sorry? Not really, he was the poor bastard taking all the hits. Was he too angry to care? No, he felt utterly drained of his anger. Maybe it was just as simple as wanting peace in the house? He planned to leave as quickly as possible regardless, it's not like he'd have to stick around for the awkwardness.

"Ron, are you done with that?" Molly suddenly popped into view. "I want to start the dishes; can I have your plate?"

"Oh, sure," Ron passed the plate over with Wandless Magic. "Sorry, was a bit lost in thought."

"Really? What sorts of thoughts?" Molly asked not so subtly.

"Things are getting better, but I don't feel better," Ron followed Dumbledore's advice. "If I'm being honest, I feel worse than before. I don't know what my next move should be. Have you ever felt that way? Like you don't have a sense of direction?"

Molly looked around the room, clearly startled by Ron's sudden outburst of honesty. She moved without warning, placing the plates on the table and taking a seat across from Ron.

"Do you feel confused, love?" Molly asked.

"I suppose," Ron gave a slow nod. "But I also feel very clearheaded, as if a fog has lifted." I offed over forty Death-Eaters, that's enough for now. I should go back to being Ronald Weasley, Tracey's life is the next big concern. I need to research this Magical Tree that can heal people, apparently.

"A fog?" Molly blinked. "Ronnie, I don't understand."

"After Tracey, everything turned rotten," Ron tried again. "Not just for me, but for everyone. I was so guilty, and eventually, I was just filled with anger. I wanted to lash out at everyone, it was therapeutic in a mental sort of way. I've been fighting so much, but only because I was pushed constantly. You, dad, the other adults in here; you lot can't be pleased. I've tried for so long, but it never seems to stick. My bad qualities always outweigh the good, at least in your eyes." Ron then drew in a deep breath, nodding to himself for opening up so well. "It makes me feel like shit all the time, mum. I hate it."

"We see the good, Ron," Molly said quickly. "Of course, we do-"

"But what do you choose to focus on?" Ron asked. "We're always fighting, and although I have my part in that; I never start it. Dad outright told me that he wished I were more like my siblings, what am I to make of that? Do I just ignore it? Like I ignored the twins' cruelty? Like I ignored being Bill and Charlie's afterthought? Like I ignored being passed over for Ginny, the better model? I'm sick of ignoring these things. I don't deserve to be treated like this. I love all of you, but none of you love me. That's what it feels like."

Molly reached forward and took Ron's gloved hand in hers, an oddly relieved look on her face. Weird…

"We do love you, it's why we worry so much about you," Molly said. "You can be very difficult, but we've all been trying our best for you. If you just let us in, we'll be more at ease. We won't tell you how to run your life, we just want to be a part of it." They sound like Dumbledore… Did he speak to them as well? Before I arrived? That scheming, old fart.

"I've heard this before," Ron said, narrowing his eyes. "You've pulled this stunt on me already-"

"It's not a stunt, Ronald," Molly sighed out, her eyes aging a decade. "Please, don't speak to me like that. I am your mother."

The shakiness in her voice was a gut-wrenching punch, it left him a little more jarred than he'd hoped. I need to mind my words; I could still ruin this.

"Sorry…" Ron muttered an apology. "Look, if you mean what you just said; I'll take it. I just wanted to be treated fairly. I do good things, every day. Getting there isn't always easy, but it's always worth it. I'm not little Ronnie anymore, I am simply me. If you don't like that, then I can't do much for you. I'm not asking for the world here, am I?"

"No, you aren't," Molly said, still slightly upset. "Arthur and I… We were always set in our ways, but we're trying to change for you. It's not as easy as we thought it would be, but we really are trying. And, although we have many issues we need to work on, you need to work on your anger. It's that bloody Prewett rage, it's always been a part of our Bloodline."

"I'll start seeing Madam Pomfrey, again," Ron promised, feeling utterly exhausted. What a long, bizarre day. "Everything is water under the bridge, okay?"

"Okay, Ron," Molly gave his hand a squeeze.

"I'm heading back to Hogwarts tomorrow," Ron stood up, pocketing his hands. "I know it's soon, but I could really use a break from… the outside world. I just want to go to my classes, and worry over the House Cup." Which we're going to win, I need to prove myself before people revolt against 'The Blood-Traitor Tyrant'.

"Are you sure?" Molly asked, her eyes darting towards the other witches.

They were all listening in by now, Ron knew that for certain. I'm not talking to them all individually, so they might as well listen in.

"I'm sure," Ron replied, wasting no time in heading for the stairs. "I'm sorry for causing so many problems, I'll get my act together." There… The Headmaster can't say I didn't put my best foot forward.

"Ron, wait," Pandora called, stopping him just before he could vanish.

"Can we please talk later? I've had a terribly long day," Ron said, feeling more and more uncomfortable by the second. "Just treat me fairly, Pandora… I deserve that much. I've always kept you on a pedestal, haven't I?"

"Please, I know I won't be seeing you tomorrow," Pandora stood up with Kirsten's help. Bloody hell…

"Okay…" Ron moved back down the stairs, heading straight for the living room.

Pandora followed shortly after, looking bigger than he had ever seen her. The baby, Lysander, would be arriving any day now, and as far as Ron knew; he was still the Godfather. Another good thing, but I can't bring myself to enjoy it fully.

"Help me into that sofa," Pandora called, and Ron quickly made his way over to her side. "Ah, thank you. My ankles are murdering me, I don't remember Luna being this heavy."

"That's because Luna is a girl," Ron shrugged, sitting down cross-legged by Pandora's feet. "Let me see about these ankles of yours."

"Ron, you don't have to do that-" Pandora started.

"Just offering help," Ron said, not keen to start a back-and-forth. "You don't want a free massage? It's not like I haven't done it before."

"They don't look like ankles anymore," Pandora said, not looking too bothered. "They're more like tree trunks, just softer."

Ron took her left ankle in his hands, immediately noticing that she wasn't wrong in her assessment. She had gained quite a lot of weight, and most of that could be attributed to Molly Weasley's generosity with food. Xeno did mention that Pandora was eating through his gardens, so maybe that's just a sign of Lysander's appetite?

"It still feels like an ankle to me," Ron said, massaging her foot carefully. "I can use Magic, if you want, but it won't be the same. My skill in the Healing Arts is non-existent."

"I'm sure that's not true," Pandora said, wincing a little as Ron pressed into a sore spot. "You have a habit of surprising people, Ron." I have a habit of lying, is more like it.

"I shouldn't have yelled at you," Ron apologized. "There were better ways of getting my point across, I'm sorry."

Pandora didn't look very surprised, instead she began staring at him as if he were an interesting book. Why do I always feel nervous when she stares at me like that? It's like she's reading my soul.

"What is it?" Ron asked. "You wanted to talk, didn't you?"

"What did the Headmaster say to you?" Pandora asked.

"Nothing much, he was just checking up on me," Ron lied instinctively.

"He spoke a great deal to us," Pandora told Ron. "Merlin, I had so many questions, and he had most of the answers… It showed me how little I know about your life, now. It showed me how different things have been lately." Pandora then reached forward and scratched his head. "Please, Ron… Don't ever do something like that again. My heart wouldn't survive, even right now I'm shaking like a leaf. Why didn't you talk to someone? I was always close by."

"I was lost in my head, not that anyone really helped me," Ron replied. "I didn't want to worry you with my problems. I didn't want to hurt the baby."

"I'm not made of glass, Ron," Pandora said, still scratching his head. "You can always come to me, I thought you knew that. I would've hidden you away with me, away from all these problems. I might have even stopped your fight with your father, no one should go through that. Both of you are so hurt by it, but neither of you is stepping forward to speak."

"He doesn't want me, I'm not going to just forget that," Ron moved on to the other foot. "I'm not lesser than my siblings, you helped me see that. I work harder than them, and I've made something of myself, even if none of you approve."

"We do approve, but you're asking us to not worry," Pandora pointed out. "Can't you see that family doesn't work like that? You don't get to become important to a person, to become their rock, and then leave them behind when it suits you."

"When it suits me?" Ron frowned. "I didn't ask for any of this, in case you've forgotten."

"Just… Don't leave, please," Pandora pleaded, stopping Ron. "Luna, me, Xeno; we would've been devastated if you hadn't been found in time. And your parents and siblings? By Rowena's wisdom, they'd never accept it. It would tear them all apart-"

"I know, okay?" Ron cut in, feeling wretched again. "I learned my lesson; you don't have to hammer it home."

"Promise me that won't do this again," Pandora requested.

"I promise," Ron said, not meeting her sharp gaze. I don't mean those words; I can't wait for it to be over.

"You better keep your word," Pandora said. "Don't cut us out, Ron; we're trying our best for you. If that means anything to you, we'd all like to forgive and forget." Anything is better than what I have now. I should accept it, and move on.

"Just don't get in my way," Ron said, focusing on the ankle. "If you're confused about something, come talk to me. Don't just gossip about me in order to make up your mind. I deserve better than that."

"This only works if you come to us," Pandora patted his head, her tone lighter, now. "I personally think you should come to me; I know you better than most, even if you pretend otherwise." Is that so?

"Daphne knows me best," Ron corrected quickly. "She's still my best friend, we talk about everything."

"She's a smart girl," Pandora smiled. "You should go talk to her in person; she might have changed her mind about certain feelings."

"I bloody well hope not…" Ron let out a long breath. "I'm not in a place to handle that kind of responsibility. The constant effort, the back-and-forth, the sneaking around, the… dirty stuff…"

Pandora cocked an eyebrow. Too much sharing, Ron.

"I became too distracted, and I won't let it happen again," Ron finished hurriedly.

"I hope you change your mind about this, Ron," Pandora said, her feet finally free of ache. "You two were good for each other, and I believe she'd love nothing more than to try again."

"I'm not changing my mind," Ron said, moving off of the floor. "I reckon I'll go sleep, now. I'm exhausted, it's been one barmy day." And this is still awkward.

"That's all right, but help me up first," Pandora said, putting her hand forward.

Ron helped her off of the old sofa, guiding her towards the kitchen. Once they were at the stairs, Ron moved quickly to part ways. Be quick before someone else pulls you aside for a heart-to-heart, Ron. Just run for your bed.

"You won't miss the birth, will you?" Pandora asked right before he could turn the corner.

"No, of course not," Ron said. "All of us will be there, I'll make sure of it."

"Good night, then," Pandora gave him a little wave.

"Good night, Pandora," Ron said, heading up for his room.

His mother and Pandora would no doubt share their talks with the others, and hopefully, that would buy Ron some peace. He felt like a wounded beast; one that had held back the hunters to protect the forest, but at the cost of his life. Like that Kazuya bloke, only less successful against the reptile destroying my land.

And then, there was the Headmaster… The old man had helped bring clarity to both sides, and yet, his sudden need to personally intervene this time around was bothering Ron greatly. Dumbledore wasn't the sort to involve himself in personal affairs, perhaps he really was trying to make Ron's life better? Maybe, but you never know with him. I should still be careful, keep him at a distance.

"You are done, finally," Artyom greeted him outside his room. "Dumbledore himself pays you house visits; you must be very important."

"Where were you?" Ron asked in response. He read that damn Daily Prophet article, everyone read it. What does he make of it? "Well? Where were you, mate?"

"Outside, watching for trouble," Artyom replied. "Your turn. Explain Dumbledore's visit." It's like I'm talking to a statue.

"The trial was rough, he was checking up on me," Ron moved into his room. "But enough about that; I have work for you and your men."

"Attacking more Pure-Bloods will bring trouble," Artyom advised. "It is unwise to move again so quickly. Every Auror in Magical Europe is alert by now."

"I figured that out already," Ron said. "I need you to find Lord De Luca, why haven't you found him already?"

"He is on honeymoon with wife," Artyom explained. "These Lords, they have hidden islands. Sanctuaries made only to sate their pleasures."

"Ew," Ron grimaced. "I get it. Just try harder, that's all I'm asking. My friend must be going mad with worry, and he'll make a mistake if we don't give him some peace of mind."

"Anything else?" Artyom asked.

"Just one," Ron sat down on his bed, taking off his shoes. Ah, sweet Morgana. "There is some Magical Tree in Ilvermorny, its leaves can heal all manner of injuries. I need a leaf from said tree, but let's just say that Ilvermorny isn't up for business. Information of any sort will be helpful, so don't leave anything out."

"I will get started tonight," Artyom turned off the light, exiting the room. "Sleep, you need rest."

"I certainly do…" Ron dropped onto his side, curling up a little. "The cat's out of the bag this time, no putting it back in…"

---

Percy Weasley's POV

Monday 22nd February, 1994 (Abandoned Classroom – After Dinner)

"I thought wizards had grown past such barbaric ways," Hermione repeated. "Child prostitution? In this day and age? How utterly abhorrent."

"I'm sure the Muggle World isn't free of its own problems," Percy said, feeling the urge to defend Wizarding Kind. "The Wizarding World isn't perfect, but it's all we've got."

"Hard to agree with you given what's been on the news, Perce," Fred said. "The Ministry's made a right mess of things."

"Fudge tried to drag everyone down with him," George nodded in agreement. "Of course, Ron somehow got caught up in that mess. How does he keep finding trouble?"

"I think he seeks it out," Luna suddenly chimed in. "He's a knight, he has to squash evil wherever he finds it. Dad says the Ministry is full of Mimes, mimicking people. Ron must be onto them." How is she in Ravenclaw? While I'm stuck with these brutes?

"You really think Mimes are behind this?" Ginny asked Luna, who nodded quickly. Don't encourage her.

"You two are talking again," Neville suddenly spoke, alerting them of his presence. "That's brilliant, Ginny. Good on you-"

"Neville…" Ginny went beet-red. "Can you not?"

"Oh, sorry," Neville smiled at Luna, who smiled back like a Mime would. That's rather frightening. "I just wanted to say sorry about Ron, he's a good bloke. I wish he weren't going through all this drama. Oh, and that he wasn't sick. It's really horrible that he has to go through that."

"Yeah, we're really sorry," Harry added, joining up with Neville again. "If we see him soon, could we talk to him?"

"Let us talk to him first," Percy said. "With Ron, things can get loud very quickly."

"Ron doesn't like to be cornered," Luna told them. "We're not even sure if he'll come back any time soon."

"He has to," Hermione spoke up. "What about his studies?"

"Studies aren't as important as his health, Hermione," Ginny said blandly. "If anything, his studies just cause him more stress."

"We'll wait for now, and if Ron doesn't come back in a week's time; we'll ask permission to go back to…" Percy trailed off. Go where? Where do we live?

Percy found himself dumbfounded; he couldn't remember a great deal of his childhood. He had disjointed memories of hills and a creek, but that wasn't enough to piece anything together. It can't be… The Fidelius Charm? Have mum and dad finally taken some precautions?

"Perfect…" Percy sighed out.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"Nothing, Harry," Percy decided to keep things to himself. "I have Head Boy duties coming up, I think we've debated enough over this." Now, I have to deal with Carey, who has been acting off for nearly a month.

"We didn't reach any agreements," George said.

"What are we doing about Ron?" Fred asked right after. "We'd rather settle on everything today; Wood has been pushing us to the point of exhaustion." What?

"It's for the Quidditch Cup, after Easter Break," George said a little smugly. "Hufflepuff vs. Gryffindor, match of the century." Idiots.

"Shouldn't you be more worried about your brother?" Hermione asked in a huff. "School Quidditch hardly matters, what Ron is doing outside of Hogwarts matters. You should be supporting him."

"We'd love nothing more, but he's not here," Fred said. "And even if he was, Ron's not one for talking. We'll do our best, don't worry about that; it just won't matter if Ron decides to ignore us."

"He has issues with trust," George looked Hermione over.

"Oi, stop that," Ginny warned George. "I saw that look; we are supposed to be past this."

"When did you 'get past it', Gin-Gin?" Fred asked. "A week ago? Less?"

"Can you all just return to your common rooms?" Percy asked, marching up to the door and opening it. "Go on, I have to start patrolling the castle soon. I'll hand you all detentions if you don't hurry."

"What about Ron, Percy?" Ginny asked. "We still-"

"I will talk to him first, and then, I'll let you know if he's approachable," Percy said. "There, we've come to a decision."

"He's in a hurry to go see that Carey Ductu," Fred said to George.

"Things have been rocky with poor old Penelope, haven't they?" George said to Fred. Who told them that? Have they been watching me?

Percy kept a straight face, not giving the twins the satisfaction. Penelope is being too clingy, while I have N. E. W. Ts to study for. What does she expect from me? I'm busy.

"Want to give her another massage, Percy?" Fred teased. "Or, is she giving you one this time around?" Bloody Ginny…

"Detention for you both," Percy suddenly pulled out his notepad and quill, marking the twins down. "Caught lurking about the castle after curfew."

"Oi, we're just joking," Fred looked insulted. "Charm that away, we can't afford to waste away in detention."

"Percy, we'll all go right now," Harry gestured the twins to follow him. "Don't give them detention, Wood has enough to worry about already. He'll take his frustrations out on the rest of us." Fine, I don't need Wood riling everyone up again. I need peace and quiet.

Percy pulled out his wand and tapped it on the notepad, vanishing the drying ink. Luna was the last to leave the classroom, a thoughtful look on her face. Percy paid it no mind; Luna was probably lost in her fantasies again. That, or, she's onto something the rest of us missed. With her, it's always impossible to tell.

He followed them up to the fifth floor, and then headed for his 'office'; a dusty, but spacious, broom-closet. All these vacant rooms, and we need to work in such a dreary space. What is the Headmaster thinking? Does he even care for concepts such as comfort and personal space?

The door was already unlocked, and upon entering, he saw Carey sitting idly behind her desk. She was staring out of the window, her demeanour distant and no longer playful. She didn't even hear me enter. What's the matter with her?

"Carey?" Percy called, and she slowly turned her head in his direction.

"Ready for our patrol?" Carey asked.

"Are you up for it this time?" Percy asked. "You didn't bother showing up last week, I had to patrol the entire castle by myself."

"I'm sorry about that," Carey pulled herself out of the chair, floating past Percy. "I've been really distracted lately, but I'm trying to get my act together."

"Just don't forget that we need to work together," Percy said, following her out. "I have problems too, you know? You don't see me dodging my responsibilities."

"I said I'm sorry, just leave it," Carey fastened her pace. "All of you Weasleys are so demanding…" What was that?

"What about us Weasleys?" Percy caught up to her, again. "I'm the only Weasley you talk to, right?"

"Sure," Carey replied coldly, clearly not meaning it. "Can we just do our jobs, Weasley?"

"Who else do you bother?" Percy grabbed her in order to stop her, but she jerked away from him as if he had the Dragon Pox.

Percy stood frozen; his wide eyes fixed on hers. What was that reaction? Did I do something to her?

"Carey-" Percy started.

"If you touch me again, I'll report you," Carey warned, sounding more frazzled than threatening. "Don't touch me, I have my wand at the ready."

"I won't touch you," Percy showed her his hands. "Carey, what's really going on with you? I can help, if it's that serious."

"I don't have any problems," Carey turned around, walking away. "I just want to do my job; you're making it personal." Making it personal?

"What does that mean?" Percy called after her, but she didn't bother replying. Witches… I could read a million books, but I'll never figure them out. Dad was right, I suppose. I should focus on my studies and family, not mental broads.

---

Lucius Malfoy's POV

Monday 22nd February, 1994 (Yaxley Manor – Night)

They were all under one roof; all the Pure-Bloods of note.

The women were mourning with Anastasia, Corban's sickly wife, while the men sat around in Corban's study. Lord Yaxley sat at the centre, just as he always wanted; tears heavy in his eyes. Robert fumed in a corner, planning dark moves with Rowle. The meek boy, Felix, was looking scared again, much to Lucius' pleasure.

They were all doomed men; Lucius had seen the truth. Every one of them was going to die bloody, Lucius included. First, it was the Dark Lord and his Loyalists, and now, Dumbledore had found a vicious, new ally. So much Pure-Blood wasted, this country truly is doomed. Everything we built, it's all crumbling down.

Lucius had himself another drink; he had become the resident drunk. That's how low he had fallen without his treasured wife and son; reduced to drink and grovelling. They were all in the same position, even Corban Yaxley, the self-imagined king. The Dark Lord was ignoring them, which was an ill omen for certain.

And, to add fuel to the inferno, news of Ronald Weasley's failing health had reached every corner of the Wizarding World. The Dark Lord's plans for the boy were now dashed to pieces, which meant that some poor bastard was going to die very soon. It could be any one of them, it was almost exhilarating; in the most twisted way possible.

Fudge was definitely doomed as well, and he would no doubt drag Lucius down with him. If the Dark Lord spared them, then avoiding Azkaban was the next big hurdle. Fudge had been taking bribes since before Minister Millicent Bagnold had retired, he had become simple and corrupt under her tutelage. Lucius was the one who had seized the opportunity first, and his name would be all over the bloody Quibbler soon thanks to his efforts. So much money wasted, the empire I had built for my son is finally destroyed. My life was good, my family was happy. We'll never see each other again; I know that now.

"What are we going to do?" Felix suddenly asked, breaking the silence.

"We'll bury them, boy," Robert replied. "We owe the dead that much."

"And get our revenge," Rowle growled. What revenge? Against who? The 'Butchers of Birmingham'? A crude nickname for a crude lot. Still, they were trained killers, they didn't spare a single soul. I'm certainly glad that I wasn't invited.

"I'll hear no talk of revenge," Corban said, clearing his eyes. Ah, the king speaks. "Our children have been orphaned, all our work has been undone, and we have lost our dearest friends. Revenge is a privilege, now. Believe me, the days of us having privilege are at an end." At least, he can see that much.

"Why does the Dark Lord ignore us?" Cornelius asked. "You said we had his favour, Corban."

"I am the only one trying, you old fool," Corban hissed, while Lucius smiled slyly. Temper, temper…

"How kind of you, Corban," Cornelius said coldly. "You have failed us. We gave you everything you asked for-"

"Nothing has been decided, my Lords," Felix tried. "The Dark Lord will decide what happens going forward." You might be going 'forward' very soon, boy.

"Felix speaks wisely," Corban said, looking to Robert. "Does he not, Robert?"

"Yes… Listen to him, and stop this infighting," Robert said, giving Felix a nod. "We cannot look weak; the Dark Lord still holds a grudge against us. If we show him weakness, he will move to correct it." You mean, he'll torture us to death? What sort of maniac are we following? There is no Pure World after this, he will destroy everything.

"Lucius, why do you remain silent?" Corban asked.

"What am I supposed to say?" Lucius poured himself another drink. "Corban, our time is over, quite literally. The Wizarding World has moved on from us, and now, some evil whoreson is hunting us down. Where are we supposed to go where they won't find us? The Order, the Butchers, the British Ministry… Fudge is going to out me; I'm already headed for Azkaban. You lot should make your peace, now. Take your children, and go-"

The study door suddenly opened, and Gaspard, of all the problems out there, sauntered in with a dark smirk. Not this demented demon… Why is he here? Did the Dark Lord send him?

"You all speak too loudly," Gaspard said, eyeing everyone in the room. "This war might be over sooner than we had planned, don't you think so, gentlemen?"

"We're still alive, aren't we?" Robert frowned deeply.

"Barely, your heart is going to give out soon, fat man," Gaspard chuckled, even Lucius found himself somewhat amused by the remark. "Slow down on the red meats, they're not good for you."

"Why are you here, Vampire?" Corban demanded. "Did the Dark Lord send you?"

"Oh, he was angry…" Gaspard sighed out. "He let out a scream, shattered every window in the village. My ears have only just healed, now."

Lucius felt himself grow colder by the second, he had witnessed his Master's complete rage before. If I still had The Mark on my arm, it would have burned a hole through my forearm. We all got lucky, this time around.

"Scared of him, aren't you?" Gaspard looked around the room, a twisted smile on his sharp face. "I'm a little scared too, but also very excited. I figured he'd call it quits, but he's got plans."

"What plans?" Robert asked. "He spoke to you before coming to us? Again?" Let it go, you fool.

"He doesn't need to speak to me, he and I often share the same thoughts," Gaspard shrugged. "He's like me, you see… We both found our purposes early, and we have chased our dreams relentlessly ever since. The same can be said of the Loyalists, they know who they are, and as such, they didn't hide when the Ministry came for them. But the rest of you? What did you do? You lied and hid away, you moved on from your own cause."

Gaspard then moved as quickly as a cat, stopping just behind Lucius' ear. The wizard froze, he'd be dead before he could reach for his wand. Just finish the drink, Lucius… Easy does it-

"You fight for family," Gaspard whispered, but they all heard him. "You fight for gold. You fight for property. You fight for luxury and ease. You fight for the right to rule."

Gaspard then looked to Felix.

"You even fight to be accepted," Gaspard said, clearly enjoying the boy's discomfort. "But your hearts are not in the fight, your eyes have led you astray. You lack perspective, experience, vision, and purpose. You fight amongst each other, always vying for petty amounts of power. I find that Voldemort is beyond this, and like me, he also believes that we've lost the fat-"

"The fat?" Corban shot out of his seat. "Our brothers and sisters are… were… not fat to be trimmed. They were going to be the backbone of a Pure Society, a place of harmony and prosperity." For who? Let's not joke ourselves, this Pure World was always a pipe dream.

"How childishly naïve you are, my dear Corban," Gaspard said smoothly. "Your 'Pure Society' was always doomed to fail, you have fooled yourselves into thinking you are sharks. You're not at the top of the food chain, you never have been. Money can only take you so far, trust me on this. It takes real power to survive in this world of monsters."

Gaspard then moved towards the exit, using his finger to beckon them all.

"There's no point in musing over who is more powerful," Gaspard said, moving out of the room. "Soon, we'll see for ourselves. Only the worthy will survive this journey." Journey? What is he on about?

---

Lord Voldemort's POV

Monday 22nd February, 1994 (Riddle Manor – Night)

Nothing could go right, could it?

One failure after another, one loss after another; the Dark Lord was beginning to get irritated. His allies had been butchered, the reputation of the European Pure-Bloods would soon be mud, Fudge had sped up his own fall and would no doubt threaten to take Lucius down with him, and worst of all, Ronald's failing health had given Lord Voldemort reason to fear again.

The boy was dying, which no doubt meant the destruction of Lord Voldemort's Soul-Shard. With Ronald gone; only the Cup, the Locket, the Ring, the Diadem, and what little he had left in this new body would remain. This wasn't enough, he could not afford to lose another Horcrux.

His plans for Ronald meant very little, now…

His own time was running out.

How could everything go wrong so quickly?

Were the Gods conspiring against him?

Or, could it be Dumbledore?

Under the table, the Dark Lord scratched away at his left palm, completely ignoring his remaining allies. They all sat around the broken, old table; waiting for him to speak first.

How he loathed all of them, the treacherous curs. Some will move to betray me; I can smell treachery in the air. Lucius, Fenrir, and Felix; I must keep my eyes on them.

"We have lost much today, my friends," the Dark Lord finally broke the silence. "Our friends, our brothers and sisters in arms, were butchered like common cattle. So much Magical Blood spilled in one night, and for what reason? The protection of Mud-Bloods, Muggles, and Centaurs. Lord Voldemort mourns with all of you, he even shares your rage. Blood must have blood, that is our way."

"Who do we strike at first?" Robert asked keenly, while Thorfinn sat up straighter.

"We cannot afford to strike at anyone right now," Lucius said icily, pretending to be sober. He's unravelling, that much is certain. Damn you, Lucius. Where is Abraxas when I need him most? Dead from a mild case of Dragon Pox…

"I am with Lucius on this," Corban said, surprising Robert and Thorfinn. "We are weakened, and the Aurors will be sniffing around us from now on. If we step out of line, they will move in to capture us. We will all be undone."

"Vengeance is our right," Thorfinn argued, leaning forward menacingly. "These 'Butchers'… They're all dead, I'll show them what butchery really is. After what they've done to us, how can you ask us to do nothing?" We can't stay here anymore; some new piece has climbed onto the board. It has to be the same group that murdered Violet, she must've told them about the Carrow Twins before her death. That, or, I'm completely surrounded by enemies, which does not bode well for me.

"My Lord?" Corban called. "What are your thoughts on the matter?"

The Dark Lord pondered the question for nearly a minute, he could not make the wrong decisions this time around. He was in real danger; he could feel it in every fibre of his being. He had to retreat, go into hiding again. He then needed to bolster his forces from other regions of the Wizarding World, places far away from decent eyes. Lastly, he needed to weed out the traitors, but he could not afford to kill any more Pure-Bloods after today. He still needed their gold and allegiances, after all.

"I must vanish into the shadows again," Lord Voldemort began. "You must all return to your everyday lives, and wait for my command-"

"You are leaving us, my Lord?" Corban blinked, looking visibly surprised. Don't interrupt me, fool.

"I must bolster our forces from other parts of the Wizarding World," Lord Voldemort whispered dangerously. "The Pure-Bloods' hold on Magical Europe has been weakened severely, it is too dangerous for me to be here, now."

"You are hidden by the Fidelius Charm, my Lord," Cornelius pointed out stupidly.

"As were the Carrow Twins," Gaspard said, looking towards Arcturus Carrow. "They had all manner of protections in place, didn't they?"

"They did, and yet, none of those protections were enough," Arcturus said, sounding oddly calm for a man who had just lost his kin. "Our enemy is intelligent, extremely crafty, and well-trained. This is not the work of the Order, or, the Aurors; there is a new threat lurking in the dark." We are on the same page.

"We must be patient," Lord Voldemort spoke in agreement. "We are lacking in information, and now, we are outnumbered as well. There is only one course of action that makes sense; we must part ways for the time being. Lord Voldemort will search for allies East of Europe, he will bolster our army with the most dangerous of individuals and beasts. While you will remain in Magical Britain, and salvage whatever you can. The war is here, in this country, and we cannot lose it."

The Pure-Bloods exchanged looks, looking even more brow-beaten and indecisive than before. Just do as I command, there is no debate in this matter.

"Gaspard will remain here to supervise over you," Lord Voldemort added, vindictively vexing Robert. "He's lost much of his influence within Magical Britain as well, you can all work together to rebuild what has crumbled."

"So, you get to go on vacation, while I get stuck with the children?" Gaspard asked, not looking very pleased. "My days of babysitting have come to an end-"

"All of your other days will come to an end as well if you disobey me!" the Dark Lord hissed, feeling his temper flare. "We are losing, in case you fools have missed the last month! Over forty of our allies were slaughtered, all of your Vampires are dead, or, in the wind, and now, Dumbledore has a dangerous new ally! You will all do as your Lord commands!"

The room went eerily quiet following the Dark Lord's outburst, with the exception of Natalia and Gaspard, both of who were whispering to each other.

"Fenrir, you will work directly under Corban, help him place Pius within the Minister's Office," the Dark Lord continued. "Cornelius, you will begin preparing your son, as we discussed. Tell him only what he needs to know, do not fail this time. And, Lucius, you will…" the Dark Lord smiled a lipless smile "… be coming with me."

"My Lord?" Lucius looked startled. I don't trust you enough to let you out of my sight.

"Cornelius Fudge has destroyed himself," Lord Voldemort reminded the drunkard. "He will no doubt bring up your name during his trial, which is guaranteed. We all know that your time here has come to an end, for now-"

"My w-wife? M-My son?" Lucius spluttered. "What of my family?"

"If you stay by your Lord's side, you will see them again," the Dark Lord said, barely hiding his glee at letting out his frustrations. "But if you stray again, then you will find yourself in Azkaban alongside Fudge."

Lucius looked towards Corban for help, but Corban kept his silence. It is decided, then.

"What of your pet?" Gaspard asked. "The sick boy, Ronald Weasley."

Lord Voldemort felt his poisonous blood boil, the news of Ronald's ill health was going to sting for a long time. And if this wasn't enough, Ronald was clearly being influenced by Dumbledore into writing those pathetic articles. The boy was nearly a lost cause, but the Soul-Shard within him was invaluable.

"For now, Lord Voldemort must gather his strength," the Dark Lord replied, speaking more to himself. "Ronald has to be met with strength. He must be shown the error of his ways for placing his faith in that old fool. Lord Voldemort will show him real power, and when he chooses to serve; Lord Voldemort will mend his body as a reward." The news about Ronald is grave, but I can still use it to my advantage. No boy wants to die before he becomes a man, and with my Basilisk Venom and Unicorn Blood Infusion, I could buy him many years. I could even help him shift his soul into another body, a body created by his own hands.

The Dark Lord slowly rose from his chair, looking towards Natalia. There is no time to waste, Lord Voldemort must keep moving forward.

"Prepare our friends for travel, we're setting off tonight," Lord Voldemort ordered the foreign Vampire.

"Dolohov is in no condition to travel," Gaspard said. "Why don't you leave him here with me? I'll operate out of this run-down shack. It's hidden by the Fidelius Charm, and I'm not so easily snuck up on. It should suffice."

"I will leave you enough of the infusion to last you a few weeks," the Dark Lord said. "He is your main priority, now, Gaspard. Watch over him with your life. I will have yours if I cannot have his." The Dark Lord then turned to Lucius. "You have one hour to pack what you need; we will be traveling together, my slippery friend."

The utter look of hopelessness on Lucius' face eased the Dark Lord's agitation, as if he had finally reached that itch he couldn't quite scratch before. Damn the Order, damn these Butchers, and damn that doddering, old fool; Lord Voldemort will not be defeated so easily.

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Tuesday 23rd February, 1994 (Amelia Bones' Office – Midday)

Ron whistled to himself, waiting for Madam Bones to return with Pius Thicknesse. The Head of Magical Law was being awfully helpful, as if she felt terrible on his behalf. This kinder treatment stung Ron's pride a little, he didn't particularly enjoy being treated like a cripple, but he managed to push it down.

He was here for the Werewolves, that's where his focus needed to be.

"Ronald," Madam Bones burst into the room, not breaking her stride until she had taken her seat. "Sorry for the wait, but the Ministry is a little lost for direction today. Pius, you may come in."

Pius Thicknesse entered the room, stroking the white streak in his beard. He wasn't a particularly intimidating fellow, but something about his lifeless eyes bothered Ron.

"Mr. Weasley, how good of you to return to us," Thicknesse entered the room and took a seat, closing the door with a flick of his wrist. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Madam Bones didn't tell you?" Ron asked.

"She mentioned that you wanted to cut a deal," Thicknesse chuckled. "As if we're in some crime novella."

"I want you to leave the Werewolves alone," Ron ignored Thicknesse's dismissive tone. "But I'm willing to compromise, and give us all a win. The Werewolves will sign the Registration, which will make your Department look efficient and on-the-ball. However, you will not persecute anyone who signs the Registration, they are free to live within the Werewolf Sanctuary. Signing their names will give them a second start at life, while the Ministry catches a small break."

"I do not have Aurors to spare, Pius," Madam Bones added, cleaning her monocle with a bit of cloth. "How are you going to arrest so many Werewolves without our help? The Werewolf Capture Unit are good for tracking, but they're too low on numbers. I say you take this deal, and give us all some much-needed respite."

"It would suit us all to work together," Thicknesse said. "Of course, I can work with such a compromise." Really? That easily? I didn't need to threaten him? Or, deliver any speeches? "However, what if some of these Werewolves have criminal records? What if they're running from Magical Law? Do we allow these sinners to enter paradise as well?"

"Which sinners are you conjuring up, exactly?" Ron asked, and Thicknesse let out another chuckle.

"Most Werewolf crimes are nothing more than petty theft and tax evasion," Madam Bones said. "Hardly worth punishing, especially given Azkaban's current state."

"And what of the murderers? The rapists?" Thicknesse asked. "What of those monsters?" Actually, that's a good question. I can't just let mental bastards into Prosperity Farm, so many will take advantage of that.

"They will be watched, by my security," Ron suggested.

"That's not good enough, I'm afraid," Thicknesse shook his head. "When Werewolves commit crimes, who do you think has to mop up the mess? The Aurors? They only hunt people, Mr. Weasley." He's trying to provoke me?

"There is no need for that, Pius," Madam Bones said, looking slightly bewildered.

"Are we to allow the likes of Fenrir Greyback to walk free?" Thicknesse asked Ron. "Does that sound fair to you, Mr. Weasley? It sounds very dangerous to me."

"You can arrest them," Ron said, changing up his plans. Artyom will need to chase Thaddeus and Remus down, warn them to send the criminals away.

"Can I expect your help, Amelia?" Thicknesse asked.

"I can spare the rookies," Madam Bones replied. "They'll help keep the peace." I would have preferred Madam Roberts' help, but she's probably busy chasing some Dark Wizards.

"I will have some papers drawn up, all three of us will sign them when the Werewolves arrive in Kent," Thicknesse rose out of the chair, scratching his beard again. "Report on the Ministry's understanding, Mr. Weasley. Any more unrest you cause will not be so easily ignored." Piss off, bitch. I'll have Artyom sit on you.

"I want what's best for both sides," Ron said, his eyes following Thicknesse out. He was very helpful as well, what is going on?

"He was being odd," Madam Bones noted. "Pius never had such disdain for Werewolves. He was not easy on them, but he did not despise them."

"Maybe he can no longer hide his disdain," Ron shrugged. "Either way, thank you for helping me with him. I didn't think we'd get him to agree so quickly."

"The Ministry needs a win," Madam Bones said. "Our integrity has taken a bruising, so I will make sure that Pius doesn't cheat you. However, you should do as he says, and give the Ministry its dues."

"I will, when the Ministry holds up its end of the bargain," Ron said, standing up as well. "I'll be on my way, then. Thank you again, Madam Bones."

"I'm sure we'll speak soon," Madam Bones said, going back to her work. I need to hurry and find Artyom, Thaddeus needs to sort out the packs before arriving.

---

Thirty Minutes Later

"We'll find them, kid," Sirius promised.

"Sirius, you don't have to go," Ron tried again. "Artyom wants to do this on his own."

"I work better alone," Artyom frowned at Sirius. "You will slow me down."

"Nonsense, I'm doing very well given my history," Sirius waved a dismissive hand. I know he wants to show support, but he's being far too eager. We're standing in the middle of the Atrium; people are starting to stare.

"Why is he here?" Artyom asked Ron.

"Ron can't keep doing everything by himself," Sirius said. "And since I'm a most dishonest Lord, I can help him get up to all manner of shenanigans. Kid, you know I can help, stop being so stubborn. I have a good nose; I'll find them much quicker than your goon."

"Don't call him that," Ron sighed out. "Artyom, can I have a moment with Sirius?"

"You may keep him," Artyom said shortly, walking through a large crowd of Ministry workers.

"Sirius, what are you doing?" Ron asked plainly. "Do you really want to help Remus that badly? Where is this enthusiasm coming from?"

"Kid, I read the fucking papers," Sirius whispered, as if it were some secret.

"Brilliant," Ron muttered under his breath. People have been staring at me all day, some were even 'whispering' about me. Even Artyom is being extra quiet, I hate it.

"You don't know everything about me, Ron," Sirius started. "I want to help Remus; he deserves something good in his life. I want to help you, because I can understand what you're going through-"

"I doubt that, but go on," Ron couldn't help but say.

"I ran away from my home, I even thought about ending things," Sirius admitted, looking very in control of himself.

"Oh…"

"At least, your mum and dad still love you; mine used to despise me," Sirius went on. "My mother, Walburga Black, had the Black Family's ill temperament; she found every reason she could to lay her hands on me. That is, if she weren't ignoring my presence all together. I think, that's why I was such a troublemaker when I was a boy… I preferred anger to indifference… Indifference left a more permanent mark." What am I supposed to say to that? If he wants to help Artyom, then I won't get in his way.

"Sirius-" Ron started, clearing his throat.

"You need someone to help you get through it," Sirius told Ron. "I couldn't have done it alone; I was so close to giving up."

"Remus helped you?" Ron asked.

"He did, but mostly; it was my mate, James," Sirius smiled fondly to himself. "He was my brother, Ron; he watched my back like no one else. The entire world could have turned on me, but James would've stood by me." Sirius' smile suddenly disappeared, replaced by a frown. "He was utterly brilliant; unlike the sleezy toad I was forced to grow up with." Regulus? He was an idiot, but not a coward. He died trying to do the right thing, that has to count for something.

"Regulus, you mean?" Ron cut in. "Should you really speak of the dead like that? He was still your brother, Sirius."

Sirius averted his gaze for a moment, losing some of his bitterness.

"You're right," Sirius said suddenly. "Poor fool, he never listened to me, but he certainly loved listening to Bella; that crazy bitch." Artyom can wait a little longer.

"Bella? Bellatrix Lestrange?" Ron asked. "The escaped Death-Eater?"

"The one and only," Sirius confirmed. "If evil ever had a face, it would be hers."

"What else?" Ron asked calmly. "You grew up with her, right?"

"She always thought of herself as the 'Queen'," Sirius said, lowering his voice. "In any given situation, Lady Bellatrix had to be the centre of attention. Oh, and she was brilliant, a damn prodigy in her own right. Her speciality? The Dark Arts. She was always twisted, always vying for more than she deserved."

"You certainly sound like you hate her," Ron couldn't help but note.

"She made my life miserable," Sirius remembered. "She pushed my mother towards a frenzy, she spread lies about me, she filled Regulus' head with evil thoughts, she even killed my father's owl and framed me… Merlin, she was always a monster, the Dark Lord simply unleashed her potential."

"Did no one ever cuff her under the ear?" Ron asked.

"She was too clever to get caught," Sirius said matter-of-factly. "Lying was as easy as breathing to her, she could have talked herself out of murder."

"But, she didn't," Ron said. "They say she sat through her trial as if she were royalty, despite being all bound up in chains and ropes."

"Queen Bellatrix," Sirius sneered. "Some people are born evil, Ron; there is no point in explaining it. I'm sure that, in her mind, we're the lunatics." I don't think I'd want to look inside her mind. I should let him go before he gets even more upset.

"Sirius, if you want to go with Artyom," Ron started. "I won't stop you. Just don't slow him down, please? This deal has to work, or, the Werewolf Sanctuary is fucked."

"I like how honest you are," Sirius said, his body visibly relaxing a little. "And, kid, if you ever want to talk, I'll be there for you. Most people can't get their heads around it, and you need someone in your corner."

"I'm seeing Madam Pomfrey again," Ron wasn't too sure about opening up to Sirius.

"I'm not stopping you," Sirius said. "I'm just offering you an ear if you need it. No pressure." What is happening today? Why are people being so agreeable?

"Thanks," Ron said eventually. "You should go find Artyom, if he hasn't left already."

"We'll see you in a couple of days," Sirius said, patting both of Ron's arms. "Take care of yourself, kid. We all worry about you."

"Goodbye, Sirius," Ron said, not knowing what else to say.

The handsome Lord left with a parting nod, leaving Ron to hope for the best. Artyom might not like it, but we're pressed for time. Sirius is a powerful enough wizard; he might come in handy if a fight breaks out. I'm not even sure if this is the right call, some of criminals deserve to be caught. This Sanctuary is taking a lot of effort, I just want it to be over with.

Ron was suddenly tapped on the shoulder, his father and Barty Crouch Snr had snuck up on him. I need to stay alert.

"Ron, how did the negotiations go between you and Pius?" Arthur asked.

"We reached a deal," Ron replied, looking Crouch over. "Mr. Crouch, how are you, Sir?"

"Overworked," Crouch replied bluntly. "How are you, Mr. Weasley? I was sorry to hear of your health."

"Thanks," Ron said, while Arthur scratched the back of his neck. "I still have some time, that's what matters, right?"

"My wife had a similar attitude," Crouch said, his eyes almost hollow. "She was terribly sick; it was a difficult experience for all." She died after her son was imprisoned, didn't she? Poor woman, to die so young.

"We're getting through it," Arthur said, shooting Ron a quick smile. "Aren't we, Ron?"

"We are," Ron agreed, not planning to air his dirty laundry in front of the Ministry. Some of these people are reporters.

"I hate to bring this up, but I heard you were in the area," Crouch started. "Given the recent discovery of your medical conditions, the Ministry cannot justify hiring you back. You are too young, and this is a stressful job. I hope this doesn't surprise you." Not really… Bloody hell, the other shoe is about to drop.

"There is no hope of me working within the Ministry?" Ron asked.

"I'm afraid not," Crouch replied. "I hope you will focus on your health instead, Mr. Weasley. Be there for you family, and enjoy what little time you have left." He's making me feel horrible. Is that his intent? Because I used 'the Dark Arts' to kill myself?

Ron felt a spike in his nervousness and stress, all that work had been for nothing. The French coming to support him hadn't meant enough, Madame Maxime defending him hadn't meant enough, none of it had meant enough. How am I supposed to justify being friends with them, now? They're too far away, and most of them won't bother trying to stay in contact.

"Mr. Weasley? Are you there?" Crouch called, while Arthur looked his son over with concern.

"I understand why you can't hire me," Ron said, he had to suffer the consequences. You knew this was coming, Ron.

"That is mature of you," Crouch gave a short nod. "I will be on my way, then."

"I can recommend someone to you," Ron said quickly, improvising.

"Recommend someone?" Crouch asked. "You seem to have many students to offer." He knows about Percy?

"She's a promising student with proper grades," Ron continued. "She's sitting her N. E. W. Ts this year, so she'll be looking for work soon. She told me has an interest in diplomatic work, I think you should take her into consideration."

"What is her name?" Crouch asked.

"Clara Martyris," Ron replied. "She's in Slytherin, and she commands a lot of respect within the House. Outside the House, she's very popular and is a role model for the younger witches." I think, I'm just making things up at this point.

"A new trainee is always welcome," Crouch spoke to himself. "Tell Miss. Martyris to send me a copy of her O. W. Ls, and if I'm impressed, she may send me a copy of her N. E. W. Ts." I managed to salvage something, at least. Professor Snape can give her the news, I'll keep my promise to stay away from them.

"You won't regret this, Sir," Ron promised.

"Mr. Weasleys," Barty gave Ron and Arthur a parting nod each, heading back towards the elevators.

Ron and Arthur stood in silence, not looking in each other's direction. Ron didn't particularly enjoy the uneasiness between them, but he was intent on keeping his foot down with Arthur Weasley. If he doesn't want me, then I don't want him.

"Shame about your work with Barty," Arthur suddenly said. "I know it meant a lot to you."

"I tried my best, but nothing is ever certain," Ron shrugged. I knew something like this could happen, no point in complaining about it now.

"You helped that friend of yours, though," Arthur looked to Ron. "Clara Martyris?" We're not friends anymore, I burnt and pissed on that bridge.

"I hope he gives her a fair chance, she'll do well in his Department," Ron said, looking at his Rolex. "I'd better get going, dad… I have to run more errands today."

"What sort of errands?" Arthur asked. "Perhaps I can help." What? Him as well? What did Dumbledore say to them? Mum definitely told him about our conversation.

"I'm going to Gringotts," Ron lied. "To check up on The Quibbler's finances." Really? That's my best? "It's a private affair, you wouldn't even be allowed in the room."

"Oh, best of luck with that, then," Arthur said awkwardly, looking slightly put down. "I'll go spend my lunch break with Kingsley, I'm certain he has some interesting things to share." He made his bed; he can sleep in it.

"Enjoy your lunch break," Ron said, turning around and heading towards the fireplaces. I'll find a quiet place to use the Portkey to Emilia's.

"Ron," Arthur called, stopping the younger wizard.

"Yes?" Ron turned around.

"You make sure to eat properly, okay?" Arthur said, giving him a wave before promptly leaving. Right… Bye, dad…

---

Tuesday 23rd February, 1994 (Travers Manor – Afternoon)

"I don't like this, Ron," Emilia all but growled, giving Ron reason to worry. If she even moves an inch, scream and start swinging.

"He knows it was you who helped me," Ron repeated. "With me, he has to move past it, but with you… It's different. What do you care, anyway? You wanted to leave the Order behind, you told me so yourself. Something about different morals, remember?"

"I will not serve under a Death-Eater," Emilia warned. "This is too much to ask, even for you."

"Former Death-Eater," Ron started. "He left that life behind long before the Dark Lord tortured him for a full day." Emilia simmered down a bit at that. "That's right, he survived torture at the hands of the Dark Lord himself, think about how powerful that makes Professor Snape. He bloody hates the Death-Eaters just as much as we do, and considering his experience with, and understanding of, our enemy; we could track down even more Death-Eaters with his help." What else can I add? "Plus, we all get to stay on the same team this way, Emilia… In Chess, there are only ever two armies; a third one would just cause mayhem for everyone. The Headmaster is still our best hope of destroying the Dark Lord, I'm convinced of it."

Emilia clenched her teeth, her unblinking eyes fixed on the roaring fireplace. Bloody hell, she's taken this really poorly. Still, I think I'm getting to her because she's not an idiot.

"Can you defeat You-Know-Who?" Ron asked suddenly. "If he showed up in a mission, would you be able to defeat him?"

"No," Emilia admitted begrudgingly. "Not if the stories I've heard are true." They probably are.

"I can't do it either," Ron admitted casually. "Emilia, you've read the papers, haven't you? The Daily Prophet is still publishing details about my trial."

"What? About you being sick?" Emilia asked. "I thought that was all a ruse, concocted to explain your scars from the Dark Lord."

"It's not a ruse," Ron said, unsure of how to feel about Emilia's odd reasoning. "I'm sick, Emilia, and I don't have long left. I can't fight the Dark Lord; I'd be surprised if I lived long enough to see the end of this."

Silence filled the living room, and Ron decided to wait until he heard her thoughts on the matter. I hope she changes her mind; I like working with her. She's a bit mental, but so am I… We make a good team. Emilia drew in a sharp breath, nodding to herself, which gave Ron hope that she would compromise.

"I'm sorry to hear that Skeeter wasn't lying this time around," Emilia said, looking towards Ron with a calmer expression. "You deserve better than this, my friend."

"Hardly anyone gets what they deserve, right?" Ron asked, shrugging once again.

"Right," Emilia gave a nod. "However, I still don't trust this Professor of yours…"

"I trust him; he has saved my life more than once," Ron said. "Can you trust me?"

"You haven't given me any reason not to," Emilia said, her eyes sharp. "Aside from your origin-"

"I'm human, for Merlin's sake," Ron sighed out. "Emilia, be reasonable-"

"I'll stay at your back," Emilia said, she had completely ignored Ron. "You and I have achieved strong results together, that is reason enough to keep working as a team." Another agreement? I'm on a roll!

"I'm glad to hear you say that!" Ron couldn't hide his relief. "I was worried you'd leave me over this…"

Emilia blinked at Ron, who quickly realized how clingy and pathetic he had sounded. Ah, there goes the roll, along with my self-respect and dignity. I don't even know what to say next. Should I just leave?

"Till death do us part, wasn't it?" Emilia asked, stunning Ron into silence. "That was a joke you made the last time I saw you, I thought I'd repeat it to alleviate the awkwardness-"

"I know what you did, Emilia," Ron cut in. "But mentioning the 'awkwardness' spreads said awkwardness… I was just surprised to hear you make a joke, especially after my… outburst."

"You should talk to someone, Ron," Emilia said, a hint of actual concern in her voice. The pity flakes really make this moment taste like shit. "Feeling abandoned can cause a lifetime of misery. Trust me, I'm an expert on the subject." Oh.

"Your parents…" Ron remembered, clearing his throat. "I'm sorry, Emilia-"

"It was a long time ago," Emilia said. "But I haven't forgotten how dark those years were. If it's any consolation, I still intend to honour our friendship." Honour our friendship? Odd way of saying she's got my back.

"That means a lot, thank you," Ron said, still feeling awkward. "And, I'll always look out for you as well. I promise."

Emilia gave Ron a rare smile, making his ears go slightly red. Don't be weird, old boy. Of course, she's capable of smiling; she only acts like a statue.

"You are also very amusing," Emilia stood up, gesturing Ron to do the same. "Have you had lunch?"

"No, have you?" Ron followed Emilia towards the exit.

"Not yet, so let's eat together," Emilia said. "We can discuss the logistics and our new dynamic with Dumbledore while we eat."

"Yay, the logistics and dynamics…" Ron muttered under his breath. The boring part.

"Have you had Japanese Cuisine before?" Emilia asked.

"No, I don't think so," Ron replied.

"Then, we are both in for a treat."

---

Thirty Minutes Later

"Well?" Emilia asked, while Ron finished up his 'Japanese Curry' with rice.

"Oh, it's all really good," Ron replied, putting more rice and curry onto his plate. "The curry is my favourite, though."

"What about the Boiled Octopus Sashimi?" Emilia smirked. She's enjoying this too much. "I can't help but notice that you don't eat seafood, Ron. You've tried every dish, but you haven't touched any seafood. Why is that?"

"I like fish pies," Ron said quickly, looking towards the boiled octopus tentacle. "I'm just used to my fish looking more like food… It's hard to explain. Everything else is brilliant, I'm just not eager to eat the Giant Squid's cousin."

Emilia plucked up some octopus with her chopsticks, eating it right in front of Ron with a mischievous look about her.

"I thought you had a stronger stomach," Emilia teased. Is that how we're doing this?

"Pass over the octopus, then," Ron challenged, and Emilia complied all too eagerly. Bloody hell, where do I start with this thing? "Let's see… Um…" Why'd they boil the whole thing? I mean, it looks very presentable, but also not every edible.

"It's already dead, Ron," Emilia said, while Ron poked at the octopus' head.

"I know that," Ron muttered, shooting Emilia a wary look. "Do I just take a tentacle?"

"Yes," Emilia replied, looking even more entertained. You know what? I'll show her something worth remembering… I've been meaning to try this.

Ron drew in a deep breath, used his fork to peel away a tentacle, and then he passed the remaining octopus back to Emilia. Ron looked back to the tentacle on his plate, it was larger than Ron had first pictured. It lay pridefully on top of his rice and curry, as if mocking him just like Emilia. You're done for, tentacle.

"Are you sure you can eat a piece that big?" Emilia chuckled. "Ron, I was only teasing, you can give that to me if you don't want to eat it."

Ron grabbed the tentacle with his left hand, and then, with a thought, he unhinged his jaw; showing needle-like teeth digging their way out of his gums and the roof of his expanding mouth.

The first bite was the largest, and as his sharp teeth minced the chewy meat; Ron felt the urge to swallow without bothering to chew. It was primal, and Ron couldn't resist the temptation. This bite of octopus was nothing, and it tasted so much better when he didn't need to exercise any effort.

With two more inhuman bites, the tentacle was gone; leaving Ron hungry for more.

"Delicious," Ron grinned at Emilia, his crimson, toad-like eyes draining the last bit of mirth in her.

She just sat there, her eyes wide and her chopsticks forgotten. For a few seconds, Ron thought of pressing on with the joke, but the longer he waited, the more he realized how twisted his sense of humour was. She wasn't like him; she wasn't used to this sort of inhuman evil. Ron had spent so much time thinking of the Entity, fearing it, that he had become a bit too used to its presence. Emilia, on the other hand, doesn't even know of its existence. She's just haunted by its voice alone, if this really is its real voice…

"I'm sorry," Ron's features morphed back to normal. "That wasn't funny… Sorry…"

"Does anyone else know what you are?" Emilia asked, he could sense her wariness. "Aside from Dumbledore and myself?"

"Professor Snape knows," Ron replied honestly.

"They both know, then," Emilia said to herself, pushing her plate away. Ronald Weasley; Destroyer of Appetites. "And I imagine, they know a lot more than I do. Is that correct?"

"They know everything I know," Ron replied. "And what I know isn't much, Emilia. Believe me on this, you are better off not knowing. Some things can't be forgotten, they just stick with you forever."

"What I just saw is going to stick with me forever," Emilia said bluntly. "I don't like not knowing, Ron. I only act once I have reason to, and with you; I've made an exception. There is so much about you that I don't understand-"

"But you still trust me, and I trust you," Ron interjected. "So, please, just leave it be. I don't want to discuss it, for both our sakes." Fate, Entity, Death, Dream… Fuck all of them, they have no right to be a part of the conversation. They're just sitting in the clouds while I'm getting destroyed down here.

Emilia studied Ron's face, quickly deciding to back off given his recent troubles.

"Are you still hungry?" Emilia asked.

"Huh?" Ron blinked. "Um… Sure, actually. I'll just stay away from the octopus."

"That's for the best," Emilia said, not reaching for her own food.

"So, what do you think about Solomon?" Ron asked, having a spoonful.

"I think he wants to survive," Emilia replied. "Deep down, past all of his greed and pride; there is a decent enough person. He doesn't involve children in his business, though he does take in 'strays', usually Half-Breeds like himself, and from what I've heard, he always does right by them. If we can keep his interest and his pockets filled, he'll do whatever it takes to get rid of the Dark Lord. He's smart enough to know that he won't survive for long with only the Pure-Bloods in charge."

"What if he betrays us?" Ron asked. "He knows about you and me, knows that we've killed people."

"If he betrays us, we'll silence him forever," Emilia said. "Until then, we need someone with his skillset. Sometimes, the devil you know is better than the one you don't. I read that in some Muggle Magazine when I was a girl; it always stayed with me. It's why I trust you, even if you don't plan to share the whole truth with me." Is she hurt over that? Is she ten?

"Then, I say we keep working with Solomon," Ron agreed with her, letting go of his paranoia. "And, Emilia… Maybe, one day, you and I will discuss everything out in the open, just give me some time. It's not a happy story… As a matter of fact, it's utterly fucked. I don't like going through it again."

Emilia said nothing, simply giving Ron a nod of understanding. I guess that settles it, then.

"Do you have time for ice-cream?" Emilia asked, while Ron just stared on. "Do you enjoy sweets? Or, would you prefer more meat?" What the fuck? How did she ask that with a straight face?

"I'll have some meat-free ice-cream, please," Ron eventually replied, and Emilia immediately snapped her fingers. Her people-skills packed up and left a long time ago, didn't they?

---

Tuesday 23rd February, 1994 (Longbottom Manor – Late Afternoon)

"Come in," Lady Longbottom called, and Ron promptly entered the study. "Ah, Ronald, so it is you. My Elf is becoming senile, I'm afraid. Two senile old women… That's the only thing keeping my family in business; the rest are just spending, spending, spending…" What did I walk into?

Ron looked Lady Longbottom's desk over; it was utterly riddled with ledgers and parchments, mostly contracts needing to be renewed and deliveries needing to be picked up. I saw some of the Longbottom Family at Frank and Alice's funeral, they certainly looked like a well-fed lot. Perhaps this isn't the best time to be asking for favours?

"Are you just going to stand there, boy?" Lady Longbottom looked up from her work a second time. "Slack-jawed like my buffoon of a grandson; I expect better from you, at least."

"Sorry, Ma'am," Ron took a seat. "I mean, Lady Longbottom…" Fuck. "I've come at a bad time, I'm sorry. I should have sent an owl beforehand."

"I expected you sooner, if I'm being honest," Lady Longbottom jotted away on a ledger, her thick framed glasses gave her a comical appearance, if Ron was being blunt. "The Quibbler is a great success, I'm hearing. My family have all subscribed to it, instead of learning to share." Lady Longbottom suddenly looked up. "They each have their own villas; did you know that?" Has she been drinking? During the day?

"From experience, I can tell you that money does buy happiness," Ron said. "But I get what you mean, why don't they just live here? This place is a palace!"

"Merlin, boy… I'd jump off the roof if they all moved in here; the ingrates," Lady Longbottom frowned to herself. Okay, I've got nothing. "It's their lack of gratitude that irks me; I only exist in their world when their vaults are running dry."

"So, you do miss them," Ron said, though he wasn't glad that he was right.

"Miss them? No," Lady Longbottom quickly denied. "However, respect means everything to me, Ronald; it is the principle that has kept the Longbottom Family in power through the centuries. Sadly, my family doesn't understand this simple principle, and as such, none of them have an ounce of respect for me. I am an old woman, now, and yet, not one of the men have stepped forward to lead. They have not even stepped forward to lend a hand. I am forced to live out of this dreadful room in my final years, toiling away while my family reap the harvest." That does sound really unfair.

"Why don't you ask them to get their act together?" Ron asked.

"All I've done is ask, Ronald," Lady Longbottom pulled off her glasses, tossing them onto her desk. "I ask Algie for help, he begins moaning about his health. I ask Harfang to do his own accounts, and his wife, Callidora, starts whispering mad ambitions into his ear. The viper from the Black Family. I never liked her. And then, there is Neville, my grandson… He has Frank's potential in him, he even has Alice's courage, but he just won't try… He won't try, Ronald. I've aged decades because of that boy, but even to this day, the mildest criticism is met with teary eyes and a whimpering bottom lip. What are they going to do without me, Ronald? If I die, for any given reason, what happens to these simpletons?" Bloody hell, she looks utterly done in.

"I imagine they'll destroy your legacy," Ron replied honestly.

"Why can't Neville just try a little harder?" Lady Longbottom shook her head, looking awfully gaunt now that Ron could see her face. "Every letter he sends; he's complaining about how difficult his classes are. He has not shown any interest in what's going on within his own country, nor has he realized that he has a responsibility to his community to give back. I want him to have his childhood, but I'm so old… Helga's Mercy, it could be too late already." It's really disturbing hearing her talk like this, like someone's coming to kill her but she's too tired to care.

"Should I call the Elves for some tea?" Ron asked. "It'll help with your stress."

"I have a better idea," Lady Longbottom flicked her wand, and a bottle of Sherry hovered over and poured itself into her glass. "If you want some tea, I will have some brought over. For me, however, this is the only remedy."

"I'm really sorry that your family doesn't give you your dues, Lady Longbottom," Ron said, truly meaning those words. "For what it's worth, I think you're brilliant. Without you, The Quibbler would've died in its crib. Thank you for guiding me, I was really lost for direction until I came to you."

Lady Longbottom stilled in her spot for a bit, but then, she took a long drink from her glass before meeting Ron's gaze again.

"You made The Quibbler successful, Ronald," Lady Longbottom said. "I only nudged you in the right direction."

"We both know it was more than a nudge," Ron couldn't help but chuckle. "You even helped me see Barnabas Cuffe's true game, I couldn't have figured him out on my own."

"He is a crafty man," Lady Longbottom said. "Though, lately, I've heard that there's been trouble at the Daily Prophet."

"Trouble?" Ron cocked an eyebrow.

"This whole mess with Fudge and Knockturn Alley has people running for the doors," Lady Longbottom said. "Barnabas might be one of them, it's still undecided. Most just want to do their jobs, but with Malfoy no longer backing Fudge, it's created a divide between the Ministry and the Daily Prophet."

"I imagine the next Minister will fix that relationship," Ron guessed.

"Unless, this new Minister already has an outlet they can rely on," Lady Longbottom said thoughtfully, shooting Ron a smirk. "I hear Amelia and you have become friends of sorts, Ronald. Is this true?"

"We're just helping each other," Ron smiled.

"The Weasley who whispers in everyone's ears," Lady Longbottom said, taking another sip. "Should I be worried, my friend?"

"What's there to worry about?" Ron asked. "You and I are friends, we're even working together to, let's be honest, take control of this country. As far as I'm concerned, we will always be on the same side."

"To being on the same side, then," Lady Longbottom finished her glass, waving her hand and ordering the bottle to pour more. "Now, tell me, what has brought you to my home? I hope there's no trouble, we've all earned a respite, I believe."

"There is no trouble, but what I need might be inconvenient for you," Ron started, while Lady Longbottom waited with an interested expression. "My friend, Kirsten Domitor, has recently moved here from Romania; she worked as a Dragon-Tamer there. She's quite brilliant at it, from what I've heard. She needs work, Lady Longbottom, but there isn't much work for Dragon-Tamers besides taming and watching over Dragons."

"My Dragon Reserve," Lady Longbottom nodded to herself. "Did she apply to work at the Reserve?"

"She did, for a supervisor role, if I'm remembering right," Ron replied.

"A supervisor?" Lady Longbottom asked. "That'll be difficult, Ronald… I already have three very capable supervisors." Damn it, what now? Maybe I can cut a deal with her? Favour for a favour?

"I'm sure we can work something out," Ron said. "Maybe, I can spread word about your Dragon Reserve, and give the right people the credit they deserve?" C'mon, take it. I already offered Kirsten my help, I can't go back empty handed.

"So, what you did with the Werewolf Sanctuary?" Lady Longbottom asked. "Interesting… Oscar has told me that he's been met with a very positive response from the general public, even Neville is 'proud of me' for helping with that project." She's selling the idea to herself, I should help her.

"Dragons are an endangered species," Ron said. "I would be happy to share more about them with the Wizarding World."

"But only if I help you?" Lady Longbottom asked.

"I don't know," Ron admitted. "I don't know much about Dragons, though I did smuggle one out of Hogwarts… I think I'd like to help them, even if you can't help me with Kirsten." Would I be able to ignore the Dragons if Lady Longbottom refused to help me? Dragons are intelligent, every book I've read states that. If they need help too, then I should at least try something. Right?

Lady Longbottom smiled a little, saying nothing as she reached into her drawers and, eventually, pulling out a piece of parchment. She offered it to Ron, who quickly skimmed through the contract. Supervising Dragon-Tamer, four-hundred and ninety Galleons a year, a registered bed at St. Mungo's, all injuries are treated and paid for by the Shafiq Family of Magical Britain, options for funeral arrangements available. Wait… Funeral arrangements?! Actually, that makes sense now that I think about it, didn't Kirsten cut her hair because a Dragon lit her on fire? Okay, everything seems to be in order; I should let Kirsten deal with this from here on.

"Tell your friend to read and sign the contract, she can send it directly to me," Lady Longbottom replied. "I expect to read good things about me and the Dragon Reserve in the next issue of The Quibbler, Ronald. I rarely indulge in nepotism, but you've shown yourself to be capable enough to warrant this risk."

"I won't let you down, Lady Longbottom," Ron smiled widely. "And thank you for this, you won't regret it. Kirsten is a solid Dragon-Tamer, she absolutely loves her job."

"We will see," Lady Longbottom said, taking another long sip. "Is there anything else? I am sorry, Ronald, but I am very busy today." Should I ask for Charlie? No, he doesn't want my help, and I'm done offering help to those who don't want it.

"Nothing else," Ron stood up, standing up and offering Lady Longbottom his gloved hand. "Thank you for helping me, again. I'll get in touch with Xenophilius, he'll come down to the Dragon Reserve and have a look around."

"Not him, I want someone more… factual," Lady Longbottom said. Xeno loves Magical Creatures, but she did just help me…

"I'll send someone else with Xenophilius," Ron started. "Xenophilius loves Magical Creatures, Lady Longbottom. He understands them, their habits, better than most. I know he's a bit of a loon, but his article on the Unicorns gained continental acknowledgement, remember? Timothy, another employee of mine, can do the fact checking, but let Xenophilius write the paper. You can't mimic love, and Xenophilius would love to write about your Dragons."

"Very well, but there better not be any errors in the article, Ronald," Lady Longbottom said, returning to her work. "I will speak with the guards; they will allow your reporters onto the grounds."

"Thank you," Ron moved towards the exit.

"And thank you, Ronald; it's about time someone did something for this family, besides draining its coffers dry," Lady Longbottom said back, grumbling near the end. Neville is in for a harsh Easter Break, I think.

---

Tuesday 23rd February, 1994 (The Burrow – Nearly Evening)

By the time Ron had returned home, most of the day had been finished. Still, it had been a very successful day for him, and for that alone, Ron was truly grateful. It felt as though the worst was behind him, but Ron had come to fear this sensation. The worst is always ahead, I can't forget that. I just need to build upon my success, and keep at it until I manage to win. This is the only way for me, I'm not powerful enough to stop the Dark Lord. I have to beat him in the long game, wait for him to make more and more mistakes, and every time he does fail; I need to punish him for it. I can't relent, not now.

Ron entered the kitchen; he could smell his mother's cooking from the living room. I wonder if mum has eaten octopus before. Kirsten was helping Molly with the cooking, the two of them were lost in a conversation about the Wizengamot of all things.

"Still, shouldn't Mr. Weasley be in the Wizengamot?" Kirsten asked. "I mean, according to you, all the other Old Families have a seat. Not counting former Death-Eaters, of course." Former? Most of them are still the same cunts they were back then, they just learned to hide better.

"Arthur's never been the judgemental sort," Molly shrugged, using her wand to orchestrate the entire kitchen. "I don't think he'd be very happy in that position."

"I can understand that," Kirsten nodded. Happy? What is 'happiness'? Does it taste nice? I wouldn't know. "Merlin, I'm going to be scrubbing pots and pans, aren't I? Mrs. Weasley, what am I going to do? I'm not built for anything else; my entire Bloodline has lived with Dragons from the start."

"Of course not, dear," Molly said quickly. "Kirsten, you are a strong witch, you fight Dragons for a living! Don't let this get to you, I'm sure you'll be at a Reserve sooner or later." A perfect time to make my entry.

"Sooner, I'd say," Ron said, walking further into the room.

"You're back," Kirsten straightened up. "Um… You didn't hear anything, did you?"

"Hear what?" Ron lied.

"Oh, nothing," Molly replied for Kirsten. "How was your day, Ron? Did you get all of your work done? Are you hungry? You did eat lunch today, didn't you?" Slow down, mum.

"My day was eventful," Ron started. "I did get a lot of work done, I'm not hungry, and I ate lunch."

"Good boy," Molly said, a hint of hesitation in her voice. It's still weird, and that isn't changing anytime soon.

"Kirsten, I bring good news," Ron decided to move forward, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the contract. "Lady Longbottom sends her regards, make sure you send this directly to her."

"Lady Longbottom?" Kirsten blinked, but then, with alarming speed, she took the contract out of Ron's hand. "A supervisor role?! I thought they'd already filled those out?!"

"They did, but she will make an exception for you," Ron turned to leave. I should go practise with the P-12, while the sun is still up. "Give her your best, and she'll keep you on."

"Molly, look at this!" Kirsten said excitedly.

"See, I knew it would all work out," Molly chuckled, feeling more at ease now that Kirsten wasn't upset.

"That's a hundred Galleons more than I used to make!" Kirsten went on, though she did notice Ron walking away. "Ron! Wait! Where are you going?" Um…

"I have to do my training," Ron replied, turning back around to face the excited witches. "The P-12 hasn't smacked me around in a bit, I'm beginning to miss my masochistic days already."

"Ronald, the tongue on you," Molly sighed out. "If you have to let it out, do it with your friends. This is a home, not the Slytherin common room."

"You should celebrate with us," Kirsten encouraged. I could also hang myself from the rafters.

"Kirsten, I'm not really feeling up to it," Ron said. "I mean, today was good, but I just crawled out of the Ministry's armpit. I don't feel like celebrating, I want to throw some punches. It calms me."

"Oh, Merlin," Molly muttered under her breath.

"Well, I'll come join you," Kirsten began to smile again. "Charlie mentioned that this 'P-12' is pretty powerful for a dummy-"

"It dropped Charlie," Ron felt the urge to mention. "Only I could beat it, and even then, it took me dozens of attempts. You could get hurt, right before starting your new job."

"Ronnie," Molly subtly jerked her head towards Kirsten. What?

"That's all right, Molly," Kirsten said, regaining some of her composure. "I think Ron wants to be alone right now." But now, I feel bad… Thank you, Universe.

"Just put on something else," Ron conceded. Maybe she'll teach me something special, I did help her out, didn't I?

---

Thirty Minutes Later

"Watch your feet!" Ron called, unable to move because of his sore back.

Kirsten tried to step away from the reaching P-12, but it was too late; the P-12 had grabbed onto her left wrist. It yanked her towards itself, its joints creaking at the strain, and with a twirl; the P-12 had flipped Kirsten over its shoulder. She landed on her neck, letting out a pained grunt before going silent. Fuck me!

"Stop!" Ron called, forcing himself to move. "Stop, you wooden cunt! You killed her!"

The P-12 simply powered down, its chipped pieces quickly returning to piece the dummy back together. Ron moved over to Kirsten's side, lightly shaking her and hoping for the best.

"Kirsten, you didn't die, did you?" Ron asked, and a whine came in response. "Thank Merlin, I was going to have to hide your body." I'm not dealing with that mess, never.

"Prick…" Kirsten chuckled weakly, sitting up and massaging her neck. "It's a ferocious bastard, I'll give it that. Have you given any thought to it guarding your home? It'd make a mean guard, that's for sure."

"Yes, but if you yell 'stop', it literally just stops," Ron replied. "It can't tell voices apart."

"I'm sure Bill could do something about that," Kirsten suggested. "Or, the twins! I love those two! They are proper geniuses; Charlie was right about that." I wonder what he says about me. I can take a guess, but it's not worth it.

"Where is Charlie?" Ron asked. "Did he go job-hunting?"

"He left with Sirius last night," Kirsten replied, losing her excitement. "He's staying at Headquarters while he looks for work." It's a safe enough location, but why is he living away from home? Mum and dad love it when he's here. "Hey, Ron… Did you happen to ask Lady Longbottom about giving Charlie a job?"

"It crossed my mind, but I didn't go through with it," Ron replied.

"Oh…"

"He didn't want my help, and I'm not in the mindset to deal with his anger problems," Ron said. "I know the pot is calling the cauldron black, but I've been through enough this month."

"I'm not blaming you," Kirsten sighed out. "Sorry… It's just Charlie, he's doing my head in lately." Can I go back to training? I don't want to get involved in their relationship.

"He's being stubborn?" Ron asked. Weasley, you stupid bitch…

"First, he wanted to leave Romania behind in order to live with his family," Kirsten started. "Then, he started getting cold feet, especially before… You know, what happened with you…"

"When I attempted broom-less flight?" Ron asked, smiling a little at his own joke. "It was a bit too ambitious, wasn't it?"

"It's nothing to joke about," Kirsten said. "But, if that helps you, then go ahead. I like to laugh at the worst shit that has happened to me, makes me appreciate the moment I'm in." She's so open about everything. It's unbelievable, she'd give me her Gringotts vault key and number if I asked for them.

"After he came back from visiting you, he was in such a hurry to go back home," Kirsten continued. "He rushed us here, we didn't even check our options completely, which is why we're jobless. He thought of nothing else but helping you, but the first thing he did at arrival was to get upset with you. The horrible fight that happened between you and your father, Charlie had no reason to be so riled up about it. And now, he's run off with Sirius, who couldn't wait to offer his help. Sirius didn't even bother talking to me about it, he just agreed and took Charlie away."

"Was he drunk?" Ron asked. "Sirius?"

"Yes, we celebrated after you went to bed," Kirsten replied. Sirius and alcohol aren't a good mix, he becomes a dumb cunt whenever he's drunk.

"You know what actually helps me cope with my stress?" Ron started. "Hitting things, usually with Hexes and Curses."

Kirsten gave him a curious look, and then, she looked towards the P-12.

"You're not jobless anymore, and when Charlie comes to his senses, I'll help him as well," Ron said. "Sitting around and talking about it… What does that achieve? At least, by venting on the P-12, we can work on our aim."

"You're a weird lad, Ron," Kirsten chuckled. "And… Will you really help Charlie? Even though he's being a stubborn fool?"

"He's my brother, isn't he?" Ron asked in response. "He comes asking for help, and I'll help him as best I can. That isn't even up for debate." I'm just not keen to let him walk all over me.

"That's good to know," Kirsten stood up, and Ron followed. "He loves you, but Charlie's a bit more on the wild side. Hard to predict, that temper of his."

"It's like a Dragon's temperament," Ron pointed out.

"Yes, actually," Kirsten laughed. "Maybe that's why they love him so much; he acts just like them."

"It's that Prewett Blood," Ron said. "We're a little temperamental."

"You're doing well, right now," Kirsten said.

"That's because no one is trying to take me to the wood shed," Ron shrugged. "Now, why don't you show me a Spell I haven't seen before? I think that sounds like fun. Do you know any Dragon-Tamer Spells I could learn?"

"You're asking for Dragon-Tamer only information, Ron," Kirsten said, moving further away to collect her wand.

"I feel like an honorary member of that esteemed group," Ron said.

"Talk properly," Kirsten chuckled. "And stop trying to sound smooth."

"I am smooth," Ron said with deadly seriousness. "And secondly, I can learn by myself, how hard could it be to find a tome? I own an army."

"Noted," Kirsten nodded to herself.

"I figured I'd learn from you, so I don't further shorten my lifespan," Ron finished.

"I was only teasing," Kirsten said, smiling at Ron and beckoning him over. "Come here, I'll teach you something special." New Magic? Finally.

Ron wasted no time in moving to her side, his Cypress Wand twirling between his fingers.

"P-12, go stand in front of us, thirty paces," Ron ordered, and the P-12 complied. "Face me, please."

The P-12 turned around.

"Right, so when it comes to Dragons, you never want to hurt them," Kirsten started.

"What if they're trying to eat you?" Ron asked.

"Don't aggravate them in the first place, Dragons are generally peaceful creatures," Kirsten replied. Tell that to the Dragon from the West. That cunt was anything but peaceful. "Now, if you do find yourself in a fight against a Dragon, this is what you must do. First, put some distance between you."

Kirsten took a few steps back, and Ron quickly followed.

"If the Dragon sounds like it's about to cough, that means that fire is coming," Kirsten instructed. "Most Dragons are firebreathers, but some can only manage a really high-pitch screech. Still, that screech is enough to blow eardrums, happened to our old boss… Poor man was so close to retiring…" Why do you and Charlie enjoy working so close to flying furnaces? Are you both mental? All of your stories end in death, or, permanent injuries.

"What do I do against a firebreather?" Ron asked, eager to continue.

"Usually, a strong Shield Charm will do the trick," Kirsten replied. "The fire is hot, but it can be negated if you put your back into it."

"You said 'usually'," Ron said. "Does it not work sometimes?"

"Some Dragons, their fire works differently," Kirsten explained. "For example, a Hebridean Black has a massive set of lungs, it can breathe fire for up to a minute with ease. And, due to its size, which can get up to thirty feet; it can crush you like a bug."

"Hebridean Black, that's a Dragon native to the British Isles," Ron remembered. "Charlie used to tell Ginny and me about Dragons, I think he always dreamed of working with them."

"That's sweet," Kirsten smiled a little to herself. "There's a Hebridean Black at Lady Longbottom's reserve."

"Only one?" Ron asked.

"Oh, each Hebridean Black demands a territory of a hundred square miles each," Kirsten replied. "Believe me, they can't stand their own kind. It's an apex predator, and it likes a full banquet."

"You'll be working with one soon," Ron said. "Send me some pictures, if you can."

"Pictures? Got it," Kirsten agreed happily enough. "Now, the Shield Charm we'd use against a bigger Dragon is Protego Maxima; simple enough, right?" Yes, it is.

"I assume outlasting the Dragon, and not being stomped on, is the real problem when fighting Dragons," Ron said.

"You don't fight them, Ron," Kirsten repeated. "You tire them out, or, you put them to sleep. There are so few left, killing them should leave a mark on your soul."

"Sorry, how do I put one to sleep?" Ron asked, deciding to mind his words.

"The eyes are the weak spot," Kirsten grinned, readying her wand. "The Conjunctivis Curse, Tumidis Oculis, will do the job. A Dragon's hide is far too thick, most Spells don't do much to faze the bigger ones. So, you swell up its eyes until it can't see. They have good senses, much stronger than ours, but they panic when they can't see. They'll either fly into a rage and tire themselves out, or, they'll try to hide in order to wait out the swelling."

"Conjunctivis Curse, Tumidis Oculis," Ron whispered to himself. And aim for the eyes, I've got it.

"You do a quick circle before pointing your wand forward," Kirsten showed him the wand movement. "And then, say the incantation."

Ron did the wand movement easily enough.

"Tumidis Oculis," Ron chanted clearly, his wand aimed at the P-12.

A dark purple ball fired out of his wand, and it was covered with a sickly pale aura. Much to Ron's surprise, this Curse was particularly speedy in reaching its target, bursting against the P-12's chest. Bloody hell, it's even faster than the Knockback Jinx.

"Good job, Ron," Kirsten patted his back. "First attempt, good on you. Just remember to aim for the eyes, otherwise this Curse doesn't work."

"It'll be hard to use against people," Ron noted.

"But not giant firebreathers," Kirsten said. "Or, anything big, really."

"What if I can't get the Dragon's eyes?" Ron asked. "Do you have more Spells?"

"One more, but only because it's relatively safe," Kirsten laughed. "Sometimes, when a Dragon goes into a rampage, we're told to bring it down. Not kill it, but just ground it and bring it to a halt. We use stunners, though not your usual stunners. These are stunners used against bigger beasts, and they pack a strong punch." A different type of stunner? I must have it.

"Show me, please," Ron took a step back, his eyes fixed on Kirsten.

Kirsten jabbed her wand forward hard, as if she was trying to stab someone.

"Superante Stupefy!" Kirsten chanted, sending forth a Quaffle-sized, red ball of light at the P-12.

The impact was brutal, sending the P-12 rolling back through the mud, its left leg shooting off. Ron couldn't help but wince, that wasn't a fucking stunner; it was a Blasting Curse disguised as one.

"As you can see," Kirsten smirked. "You don't use this on people. The Spell itself isn't enough to kill a grown man, but the injuries that follow being hit… Well, Dragon-Tamers have died at each other's hands in the past. Promise me that you won't use this on a person, Ron. Unless, they're a Death-Eater, then go right ahead." That's good enough for me.

"I promise," Ron smiled, feeling excited to try this new Spell. "So, I just stab my wand forward? Like this?"

Ron mimicked her movements, but fell slightly short.

"You need to square your shoulders, and cast when aiming forward," Kirsten instructed. "Don't let your wand dip, you might send yourself flying. There's quite an impact, and it's almost instantaneous. No chance to react."

"Okay, like this?" Ron tried again.

"Separate your feet and brace yourself, there's a strong recoil from this one," Kirsten said, and Ron quickly followed her instructions. "That was good, I reckon you're ready. Just remember to brace." Kirsten then flicked her wand at the P-12, fixing it up and bringing it back into position. "Go on, I know you're excited."

"What was the incantation again?" Ron asked.

"Superante Stupefy," Kirsten replied as clearly as she could. "Drag out the 'rrrr' sound a little, gives it more power." That can't be true. Let's find out.

"Superante Stupefy!" Ron chanted, bracing himself for the recoil.

It was instant, and shot Ron's wand upwards, though he barely managed to keep his footing. The crimson ball shot past the P-12, blasting a hole through his mother's hedges. Oh, bloody hell! I'm dead, I need to leave before she finds out I did this.

"Not bad, but try adding more emotion into it," Kirsten suggested. "The ball looked a little small, if I'm being honest." The ball wasn't the issue, I can't aim it to save my life. My arm feels like its shaking, but I can't even tell. "Ron, are you okay? That didn't hurt your arm, did it?"

"It did a little," Ron mumbled, shaking his right arm. "I'm fine, I'll try again." I'll try it without Cutis Terra again, I can do this.

Ron drew in a deep breath, stretched himself out a little, and then he moved into action. Give it some emotion, Ron! Fuck you, Entity! You cunt!

"Superante Stupefy!" Ron all but yelled, bracing himself once again.

He was ready this time, the recoil didn't feel as powerful as the last time. The ball, which was slightly larger than Kirsten's, fired straight and true, smashing into the P-12's chest. The dummy was sent flying, it's jangling limbs cracked and breaking off. It rolled through the dirt, eventually coming to an abrupt halt that ended with a thud. I fucking murdered him… YES! That was wicked! Bloody brilliant!

"Wow, good on you," Kirsten clapped, sounding very pleased on his behalf. "You put some emotion in it this time, I felt it."

"Thanks," Ron laughed, feeling a little breathless. I really did it! It wasn't that hard!

"You okay there, Ron?" Kirsten asked, her voice losing some of its mirth. "Your arm is twitching a little, are you doing that on purpose?"

"No…" Ron suddenly felt the soreness creep in. "My arm is feeling sore and heavy, is that normal?"

"Oh, yes," Kirsten replied, walking over to his side. "Sorry, but this Spell demands a lot, and that much Magic passing through your arm at once causes soreness and spasms. You're not really having spasms, but given your skills at Wandless Magic, I'm not really surprised. You're in good shape, which is a relief for everyone." I'll take that compliment, odd as it is.

"It'll stop soon, right?" Ron asked, trying to move his arm around.

"A hot shower will fix you up," Kirsten promised. "Want to head back? I think you've earned a break." I don't think I have.

"You can go on, I want to keep practising," Ron replied.

"Mind if I join you, then? I've got nothing else to do without Charlie," Kirsten chuckled nervously. She could bend my spine with those arms of hers, but she's being nervous around me? Have I become that fish-eyed? Merlin, I even look like a red-headed version of the man after Mary's haircut. I don't know if I'm pleased, or, horrified, about this.

"Go on, then," Ron smiled; Kirsten was now a proper lass in his books. "Set it up, you can have the first go."

---

Tuesday 23rd February, 1994 (The Burrow – Evening)

There was a knock on his door, followed by footsteps making their way past the threshold. Ron turned around to see Charlie loitering about, a strange expression on his face. What is it, now?

"Kirsten and I talked just now," Charlie said. "You got her the job of her dreams, and it was as easy as snapping your fingers."

"She asked for help, and I helped," Ron said plainly. "If she hadn't asked, I wouldn't have done this for her." Now, let me grab my things so I can make it to dinner. I want to assess the school's atmosphere for myself. No point in hiding, eh?

"I'm not mad, I wanted to thank you," Charlie said quickly. "She's really happy, Ron, thank you for that. She's already written to her parents; mum tells me that she can't stop grinning." We did have fun today, and I won against the P-12 six more times than her. She only scored two wins, and that was after I told her of my tricks to confuse the P-12. Erratic movements and inconvenient strategies, it can't adapt as well as it can fight.

"Glad to help, Charlie," Ron opened his trunk and pulled out a letter with Charlie's name on it. "By the way, I want you to have this."

"What is it?" Charlie asked hesitantly.

"A key for a vault in Gringotts, your vault," Ron replied. "I opened it in your name, and I've placed a thousand Galleons inside-"

"Ron, what are you talking about?" Charlie asked with a furrowed brow, handing Ron the letter back. "You opened a vault in my name? Before I could move here and open my own? I have money saved up; I don't need a thousand Galleons." Okay, not the response I was expecting.

"It's for a rainy day," Ron said. "There's a war out there, Charlie-"

"I know, I'm fighting it," Charlie said, his tone suggesting that Ron was an idiot. Fighting it? Cunt, I'm fighting a war, you're playing at soldier.

"It's for protection," Ron tried. "In case the worst happens, and your only way out is gold. Keep it for that, please."

"Ron, I'm glad you helped Kirsten, but I'm doing fine on my own," Charlie said, refusing to take the letter back. "That's your money, Ron. You should keep it, spend it on yourself and have some fun in your life. You're Ronald fucking Weasley, everyone knows about you. You're a celebrity, lasses would line up just to snog you. Lads too, if you want." Charlie then shook his head. "What do you do with all the good around you, Ron? You ignore it. You treat it like shite. You degrade it. You're so bitter all the time, the way you treat dad is just sickening to watch."

Charlie stopped abruptly, shaking his head again. All right, that was… a lot…

"I want you to get better," Charlie started again. "I really bloody do, but fuck me… It feels like you don't want to get better, you just want to keep crawling down the rabbit hole."

"I'm not crazy," Ron felt his hands clench around the envelope. "Don't call me that-"

"I didn't, it was a figure of speech, or, some rubbish like that," Charlie said defensively. "You know I'm right about this, and you don't want to admit that."

"I'm leaving this in here," Ron walked over to his desk, tossing the crumpled letter into his desk drawer. "If you ever get your head out of your arse, come and take it. I won't say a word."

"You better not bully mum and dad, Ron," Charlie warned, marching out of the room. "I won't stand for it, it's not fair that they have to suffer for your issues."

Silence followed once Charlie was gone, leaving Ron to contemplate why he had come back in the first place. Whatever… I was only trying to help; you didn't need to be such a prick about it. I wonder if this is how Bill will react… I fucking hope not… I'll wait to give him his key, he'll probably bite my head off like Charlie.

---

Albus Dumbledore's POV

Tuesday 23rd February, 1994 (Snape's Office – Nearly Dinner)

He had finally returned to Hogwarts, but instead of returning to his office; Albus had come directly to meet Severus. The Muggles were not pleased to learn of the Carrow Twins' 'war-crimes', nor were they pleased about the 'seismic activity' felt in the heart of London; right on the second when Albus had brought Knockturn Alley to ruin. Much of the Muggle Population had believed that it was a random earthquake, but they had an unending list of questions for British Muggle Government.

First, Albania's forests, and now, a capital city… The Muggles had great patience, Albus found. No one wanted a war, and as of the Statute of Secrecy's establishment, only one side had purposefully attacked the other. The Muggles had silently buried their dead for years on end, but that was changing. Albus could feel that their patience was running dry, especially due to the Wizarding World's constant unprofessionalism.

Cornelius had left his vital job undone, as he had been too busy chasing after possible threats to his Office. His career was at an end, the Wizengamot was already whispering about removing the man from Ministership. Albus was at the head of these whispers, he had spent a majority of today endorsing Amelia via Fawkes and in person.

And now, with Severus caught up on Albus' chat with Ronald; Albus could finally rest his weary bones in his own bed. There was just one more problem, though… Severus was not pleased about giving Ronald a break.

"So, we're to simply move past his near murder of Carey Ductu?" Severus asked. "Is that it, Albus? He doesn't even get a slap on the wrist?"

"He feels guilt, which is a good thing," Albus said.

"Is that a joke?" Severus whispered icily. "Even if Carey wasn't a recruit for the Order, she is still a student of this school. If he had killed her, we would all be undone. It was a dangerous stunt, and it did little but damage relations."

"He was angry, and alone, and terribly afraid," Albus reasoned. "We abandoned him, Severus… He had to crawl through the darkness on his own-"

"I understand that he's been through too much," Severus cut in. "But you are being irresponsible, Albus. He needs to understand that actions have consequences-"

"He already understands a very simple thing that you do not, Severus," Albus said, his tone becoming more serious. "He doesn't need us, we need him. More specifically, we need to be protecting the Cycle. If Ronald dies, everything could be over within a heartbeat. The Entity would return to a time when Ronald had just turned eight, and our timeline would cease to exist."

Severus muttered something under his breath, no doubt cursing the Cycles and the Gods.

"Ronald knows that he has no reason to fear us," Albus went on. "We can't chain him away; people would notice that he's missing. We can't silence him; the Cycle would restart. We cannot wipe his memories; the Entity would kill us both. Do you see, now? Our only hope is to guide him, and I still believe that Ronald can be more than what he is right now. I can see him being instrumental in saving us all from Lord Voldemort's greed, from his hatred." Albus then returned to his usual self, speaking more gently. "Ronald has suffered, Severus, as we have… Do not be cold to him when he returns, I implore you. He holds you in high regard, it would hurt him terribly to be ignored again."

Severus just stared at Albus, though Albus could see that his words had reached the Potions Master.

"How can I ignore him, when I have to supervise him?" Severus eventually grumbled. "Another decision you made on my behalf… Now, I must babysit the children who found the kitchen knives."

"You will do well, I'm certain of it," Albus chuckled. And, it'll be good for you to branch out, my friend. I believe my time will come to an end soon, I am not the wizard I used to be.

His bones still ached, and he had spent most of the day feeling as though a fat man was sitting on his chest. He would recover, of course, but it would take weeks, according to Poppy. In his youth, he could syphon the overwhelming amount of Magic stored within the Earth for much longer periods; his Duel with Gellert was legendary for a reason. They had levelled Nurmengard Castle and the surrounding regions; it had taken months to put everything back in its proper place. And I never returned, not once did I muster the courage to face him again. I wonder if he truly came to regret his actions, our actions… I certainly hope so.

"Albus? Listen, you old fool," Severus growled. "This plan of yours, to divide the Order in half; it's a little too bold. Many won't agree with it."

"They don't need to know," Albus said calmly. "Emilia will simply leave, and if anyone asks, I'll tell them I asked her to take her leave. Emilia, Ronald, and Solomon will work with you, while you supervise Ronald's behaviour. Speak with him, Severus; try to make an effort, please."

"I heard you the first thirty times," Severus frowned. "Keep going."

"I will continue to lead the Order, as usual," Albus continued. "When we must discuss matters, we will do so as usual. Ronald will participate, Severus. He was adamant about this, and I'm willing to give him a chance. He hasn't been entirely wrong either, we can't forget that."

"No, he hasn't," Severus said coldly. "He did the right thing by ending the Carrow Twins and their guests, I'll give him that. We are all better off without the Dark Lord securing that much influence in one night."

"Indeed," Albus had to agree. Tom would not waste such an opportunity; he would've infected every corner of the Wizarding World.

"Though, I imagine that I'll be stopping Ron from feeling artsy going forward, thank you for that," Severus said lowly.

"I will help, make no mistake about that," Albus smiled, his eyes twinkling. "He's agreed to see Poppy as well, did I tell you that?"

"Yes, you did," Severus said, looking towards the fireplace. "Someone's coming through, Albus."

The fire blazed green, and Ronald himself stepped through, his trunk in tow. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

"You're back sooner than I thought," Albus said, meeting Ronald with a smile.

"Hello, Headmaster," Ronald greeted, his voice composed as usual. "Sir."

"Will you be returning to your classes?" Severus asked. "If so, you must let me know. I will need to alert the other Professors."

"There's no need to alert anyone, Sir," Ronald said, scratching the back of his neck. "I'm not going to do anything like that again, I've already told you a million times."

Albus gave Severus a subtle glance, asking him to be gentler in his approach.

"I didn't say that you would," Severus said, making his tone less threatening. "The Professors wouldn't enjoy being surprised; it would come back to me."

"Right," Ronald looked between Albus and Severus. "Did you know I was coming? Or, were you having a catch-up? I haven't interrupted anything, have I?"

"No, Ronald," Albus chuckled, waving him over. "I was just now speaking with Severus about our changes to the Order, he is most pleased with the results." Play along, Severus.

"The changes are certainly… ambitious…" Severus drawled, staring at Albus.

"He doesn't want to babysit me, Headmaster," Ronald said dully. Uh-oh… How unfortunate. "It's all right, Sir. You don't need to worry about me, I'm more focused than ever." That gives me reason to worry.

"Good," Severus said, standing up. "I expect to see you at dinner tonight, and you will address your House-mates before bed. You took the crown; you'll take the responsibility as well."

"I understand," Ronald said before looking towards Albus. "I spoke to Emilia; she's agreed to our plan as well."

"That is good to hear, Ronald," Albus commended, and the boy smiled a little.

"I'll be on my way, then," Ronald said, turning around to leave. "I will see you both at dinner, then."

With that, Ronald left the office, his trunk now floating behind him. He cast a Wandless, Non-Verbal Locomotor Charm mid conversation? He's improved quite a lot.

"Severus… That was a poor effort on your part, my boy," Albus shook his head in disappointment.

"He's not Potter, he has brain in his head," Severus said harshly. "Plus, I'm certain that if I tiptoe around him, he'll get agitated and start believing me weak-willed. He responds to a different kind of strength, Albus. You can play fairy godmother, but I'll keep him sharp." I will have to try twice as hard; it seems. Perhaps Severus is also correct? We'll certainly see.

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Tuesday 23rd February, 1994 (The Entrance Hall – Dinner)

He had dropped off his trunk in his Sanctuary, using the Disillusionment Charm to hide himself and his trunk on their journey to the seventh floor. By the time Ron was done storing the trunk beneath the double bed with the soft pillows, the dinner bell had rung.

He could hear his fellow students inside the Great Hall, enjoying their meals and gossiping about the happenings of their own little worlds. It was an overwhelming thing; he didn't want to be under a microscope. Standing here won't help bring the Slytherins to the right path, Ron. You need to get over it.

Ron drew in a deep breath, willing himself to move until he was standing with the Great Hall, it's floating candles and dancing ghosts filling him with much needed strength. It's okay, it's just another day. Eat dinner, then go down to Slytherin and address the House. After that, start living out of the Sanctuary, and only come down for training lessons with the Slytherins.

The Great Hall had gone silent, Ron realized too late. People were staring at him, standing in the entrance like a stupid prick staring at nothing. Move, Ron, you dimwit. Ron began heading towards his friends, their surprised faces were easy to pick out. Millicent is with them… Someone, sneak up and behead me, please? Just don't say anything to her, let her live her life. She'll come around if she wants to, I'm sticking with that policy.

Ignoring the whispers, Ron planted himself between Blaise and Theo, both of them patting his back and smiling. Even Malfoy looked relieved, which surprised, and touched, Ron.

"Mate, you're back?" Theo asked. "For good?"

"I am," Ron replied, earning many relieved laughs. "It's good to see you lot again." Shit, is that Percy? He's staring at me; I can't tell if he's happy to see me.

Ron turned his attention to Pansy, giving her a sorry smile.

"I'm sorry about what happened to you, Pansy," Ron apologized. "I would've told you, but I was under a lot of pressure to keep things quiet. I'm really sorry, Pans." I'm not sorry about your parents, though. They got what they deserved.

"I… I'm okay…" Pansy shrugged with a strained smile; her eyes were puffy. "I don't know what I am, actually… I don't even know what to think."

"Just wait to speak with the Goblins of Gringotts," Daphne said, her eyes kept darting towards Ron. Yes, I'm really here.

"My meeting isn't until Friday, what am I supposed to do right now?" Pansy asked hopelessly.

"We can spend some time catching up," Ron offered, feeling the urge to pick up where he had left off. Why did you do that? Don't offer your time, just stay focused on the mission…

"Really?" Pansy asked, looking better already. Fuck…

"I'd like that, and if you want, you can grow my hair out and cut it again," Ron said. "This current style is a bit too-"

"Someone tried to build on my work?" Pansy asked. "Who? Ron, it was cut a certain way, and now, I'll have to start over. Someone ruined my template." What is she on about?

"Sure, sorry," Ron said, exchanging glances with the lads. "Whatever you need, Pans."

"I'm really glad that you're back, Ron," Daphne smiled, only to quickly school her expression. "I mean, we're all really glad. You've been missed." I missed you too, Daph.

"I've missed all of you," Ron said, looking towards Malfoy. "Even you, my Lady."

"I only just grew accustomed to the peace and quiet," Malfoy said, looking indifferent now. "I suppose that's over, now?" Not likely, mate… I'm not living down there. I just want to be left alone.

"We'll see," Ron said casually. "So, tell me, how's everything been?"

"It's been chaos," Theo started immediately. "The other Houses, Ron; they're eyeing us up constantly. Especially any Slytherin who lost a parent in that… orgy… Whatever that mess was. The Muggle-Borns are especially unhappy with us, even some of your little pets." It's not as bad as I imagined, I can fix this up.

"But with you here, things can get easier," Daphne couldn't hide her relief. Was it that hard on her? She had all of our friends helping her.

"Did the Slytherins give you any trouble?" Ron asked his friends. "Why does Daphne sound so relieved?"

"Oh, I'm not," Daphne said. "I mean, I am, but not overly relieved."

Ron definitely knew something was wrong now, Daphne had slipped up because of his sudden appearance. What is she hiding?

"Daphne's been doing all the work on her own," Pansy told Ron, while Daphne's face fell. What? What the fuck?!

"Daphne, what does she mean?" Ron asked, his warm welcome tossed out of his thoughts.

"Parkinson, you tattle-tale," Theo muttered, shaking his head at her.

"You lot put all of the work on Daphne's shoulders?" Ron caught on, looking between them all. "What's the matter with you?"

"Ron, it wasn't that difficult," Daphne said. "I was busy, but not overwhelmed. Don't be like this, you just came back. Why don't you congratulate me for not dropping the Quaffle, instead?" Shit… She made me feel guilty. I should, at the very least, thank her for stepping up and helping me out.

"You're right," Ron said, drawing in a deep breath. "You did well, Daph, and I'm really grateful. However…"

Ron looked to Theo, then to Blaise, and then to Malfoy.

"I want to know why you three didn't help her," Ron finished, his brow furrowed.

"I wasn't consulted over anything," Malfoy said, going back to his dinner. "That's on her, not me." Of course, she'd never ask Malfoy for help. Fine, what about the other two?

"I've had 'other' concerns, Ron," Blaise whispered.

"I told you I was taking care of it," Ron said. "You didn't want to interfere, remember? No letters, no attempts at contact. So, why didn't you help Daphne in the meantime?"

"What about her?" Blaise looked to the quiet Bulstrode. "She has been avoiding her delegate duties, she had far more on her shoulders than I did. Why are you singling us three out?"

Ron looked to Millicent, and it felt as if the entire Slytherin table had gone quiet. She shrunk almost immediately, not eager to meet his agitated gaze. What the hell can I do with her? I can't tell her off, I don't want to get personal with her. Ron looked to Daphne, at least he could question her.

"And Theo? What's his grand reason for not helping you?" Ron asked, looking between the two. You promised, you prick.

"There wasn't all that much to do, Ron," Theo said. "Plus, you left the authority to Daphne, everyone heard you as clear as day." That's his defence?

"That didn't stop you from using Weasley's name whenever you wanted something from someone else," Malfoy spoke up. What?!

"You used my name to extort people?" Ron asked, while Daphne and Pansy frowned at Theo.

"Extort people? Me?!" Theo sounded truly offended. "I did no such thing, I just… cleared a few of my debts, from Quidditch Gambling. I didn't think Diggory would defeat Potter, I lost a hefty sum."

"You have more money in your trust account than actual Quidditch Stars," Ron frowned deeply. "So, you were just taking the piss, then? Lording my name over the other Slytherins?"

"Yes…" Theo muttered, deciding to stop while he was ahead. Fuck this school, I should've stayed in the Sanctuary…

"Daph, I'll take over from here…" Ron sighed out, he shouldn't have expected anything from them. Only Daphne came through, hardly surprising. The rest are just enjoying the damn perks, or, moping about.

"I'd like to keep working, it's good practise for leading my own business one day," Daphne said. "If you need help, do you mind coming to me first?" Who else would I go to? The bloke who's miring my name in shit for a giggle?

"Sure, Daphne," Ron replied tiredly.

Silence fell on the group, with Ron glowering at his empty plate. Just eat, and get on with it. Once the address is done, I can enjoy peace and quiet.

---

Forty Minutes Later

Ron and Daphne hovered at the back of the group, the stares and whispers had never stopped. Even now, he could hear Angelina Johnson and her flock whispering right behind him, discussing Priscilla's rescue from child prostitution.

It made Ron uncomfortable, being in the limelight like this. I have too much to hide, and this attention, however positive it seems right now, is going to grate my nerves. I can already tell.

"Are you upset with the others?" Daphne suddenly asked. "Ron, what happened with Tracey has been rough on all of us… So, what if Theo felt like having some power for a change?"

"It's not his power, it's mine," Ron countered, keeping his volume in check. "It makes me look like a tyrant. Oh, and more importantly, he left all the work for you. Daphne, I didn't hand you all the responsibility, you lot were supposed to work together."

"I did well on my own, for once, Ron," Daphne huffed in indignation. "Shouldn't that be the only thing that matters?"

"You just want me to ignore their behaviour," Ron frowned. "That's it, isn't it?"

"I don't want you to be upset on your first night back," Daphne frowned back. "You've been here less than an hour, Ron, and already, you're in a foul mood." I'm not in a foul mood, I just don't think it's fair that they're being rewarded for doing nothing. After seeing the nepotism within the Ministry, I'm only ever touching that concept when it suits my needs.

"Fine, you can talk to them, then," Ron decided to back off, he had a speech to make up. "But they'd all better get their act together, if you get my meaning."

Daphne shot a quick look at Millicent's back, and then, she gave Ron a nod. Brilliant.

"I'll talk to her," Daphne whispered. At least, I can avoid that awkward exchange.

"Thanks," Ron patted her back instinctively. "I'll ease up on the delicate flowers-"

"Ron, don't call them that," Daphne gave him a dull look.

"Fine, fine…" Ron muttered, going quiet for a moment. "You did a good job; I never had any doubts about that. You're better at this than I am, I keep telling you-"

"I'm better at planning," Daphne interjected. "But trying to be nice and approachable all the time… Sweet Morgana, I don't know how you do it. My sister and her little friends, I've never felt the need to murder children before. They are a rude bunch, Ron. You need to straighten them out."

"What did they do?" Ron asked.

"Listened to my sister's rebellious drivel; Tori has been causing me trouble out of some deranged sense of jealousy," Daphne replied, looking rather vexed. "I've apparently become too 'high and might', and I have no right to 'boss her around'." Tori…

He could still hear Lord Greengrass' teary confession. I'll get her to behave, gently. I'll give her a special task, that'll encourage her to do better.

"I'll talk to them," Ron promised.

"Ron! Wait!" Percy called to them suddenly, right as they were nearing the top of the stairs.

"I'll see you in the common room?" Daphne asked.

"Yes," Ron replied, turning around and heading back towards Percy.

His brother, and siblings, were waiting for him by the House Hourglasses, the sight of them also made Ron uncomfortable. Those gems inside, they could be the souls trapped within the Hourglasses within Dream Hogwarts. I could just be another point to 'Slytherin'.

"You're finally here," Ginny had him in a hug without delay. "I didn't think we'd see you until Easter!" Someone is certainly happy to see me.

Lavender and Parvati walked past them at that moment, breaking into giggles when they saw Ginny clinging to Ron. Ugh, no… Just ignore them, old boy.

"What made you come back before Easter?" Luna asked.

"I missed the castle," Ron shot Luna a warm smile, all the while petting the back of Ginny's head. "How are all of you? Percy?"

"We've been worried," Percy said. "Come with me, let's head out of the castle."

They all moved together, with the twins leading the way. Ginny and Luna stayed by his side, looking very pleased and relieved to see him. Ron felt warm, despite the cold wind outside.

"I've been practising those Spells you showed me," Ginny was whispering, a big smile on her face. "I'll show you. Oh, and I've been running as well. I bet I could take you on, now."

"All right, we'll see," Ron chuckled. "Those Spells better be perfect, Ginevra."

"They are," Ginny said smugly. "I even showed Luna, ask her."

"You two are talking again?" Ron asked, looking between them. "Luna?"

"Ginny's trying, so I'm trying," Luna hummed. "We've all been talking about you behind your back-"

"Luna, pardon me," Percy suddenly sped up, taking Luna towards the front. What the…?

"We were talking about what we read," Ginny rolled her eyes. "Percy's being too dramatic, Ron. You look good, like you're ready to come back."

"I guess you can say that," Ron looked back over his shoulder, spotting a particular tower looming above the castle. The Astronomy Tower…

Ron stopped and turned around, eyeing the tallest tower at Hogwarts Castle. Even from the Courtyard, it could be seen in most of its splendour. That would've been quite the drop. Probably enough time to regret my decision.

"Ron?" Ginny whispered, tugging at his coat. "Ron, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Ron frowned at the tower. Go fuck yourself, I still beat you. Even if I had some help.

Ginny gave him a curious look, but said nothing.

"Isn't this far enough?" Ron asked the twins. "You want to chat in Professor Hagrid's Hut?"

"How did he know?" Fred asked George. What?

The twins walked back over, along with Luna and Percy. I guess, I should start, then.

"I'm not going to kill myself," Ron said bluntly, making them all go slack-jawed. "Just throwing it out there, it's the truth. If you don't like the taste, there's no refunds."

"Ron, as relieving as that is to hear, we want to know why you didn't come to any of us," Percy said. "I thought we were all becoming a team again, all of us."

"As corny as that was, he's right," George added. "Ronnie, you can hand us a thousand Galleons each out of the blue, but you can't take five minutes to seek one of us out?"

"We would've talked to you, moron," Fred said, and Percy quickly smacked his arm.

"He's right, though," Ginny spoke up, nudging Luna.

"Ron, everything would be different without you," Luna nodded at him.

"Worrying you was the last thing I wanted," Ron sighed out, feeling worse about the whole business. "But it wasn't easy, so don't make it sound like it's all my fault. My friend is in a coma, all right? Because of me, and as it happens, I'm already dying regardless of her sacrifice. None of you can really understand this, but I've barely been holding my head above water. None of you cared enough to ask, anyway…" Ron then drew in a deep breath, following the Headmaster's advice. "Look, it was all really ugly, and I want to forget about it. Can we all just agree to leave it alone? I'm back, now. I'm doing better, I'll be seeing Madam Pomfrey again, so that's bound to make things easier. Can we move past this, please?"

His siblings exchanged looks, with his sisters looking especially sorry. Brilliant…

"Whatever you need, Ron," Percy said, reaching forward and patting his arm. Okay, there's no need to touch. You just ate, your fingers are dirty and this is a clean suit.

"Thank you for that," Ron said, and Percy gave him an understanding nod.

"Everyone else is talking about you," Luna reminded him. "The Ravenclaw girls think you're a hero for saving Priscilla and her friends, you've become very popular." The Universe stomps on my manhood, again. I'm going to have to lurk in this castle, just to avoid weird looks and rumours.

"Even in Gryffindor, you've become a bit of a hero," Ginny sniggered. "Fred, tell Ronnie about McLaggen."

"He apologized to us," Fred smirked, surprising even Ron. "Well, he wanted us to pass the message on to you."

"He said that he didn't know you were going through 'mental problems'," George took over. "He wouldn't have come at you if he had known." Thanks, I suppose…?

"How kind of him," Ron smiled, making the twins snigger.

"You want to prank him?" Fred asked.

"We've got something in the works," George added. I'd rather not stir trouble. If McLaggen wants peace, he shall have it.

"None of that," Percy warned the twins. "I have N. E. W. Ts, you two donkeys. I don't have time to clean up after you, Filch always sends for me whenever you blow up a classroom."

"Ronnie?" Fred asked.

"No, thanks," Ron declined. "I want to avoid… people. And trouble, I really want to avoid trouble."

"Ron, are you sure you're all right?" Ginny asked, not mentioning Ron staring at the Astronomy Tower.

"Of course," Ron pinched her cheek, hoping she wouldn't get upset at the gesture.

She snorted and batted his hand away, just like old times.

"Hands off the merchandise," Ginny smirked.

"That's some poor inventory, if your personality is something to go by," Ron grinned, looking even more pleased when she lost her smirk. Don't sass me, I play in the top league. "I'm only joking, Gin. Don't give me that look."

"So, if you want to avoid people, then why did you come back?" George asked. "Is everything all right at home?"

"You knew where it is, don't you?" Fred asked quickly. "You just came from there."

"You'll get your memories back soon enough," Ron told Fred. "Go home for Easter, mum and dad will pick you up."

"He didn't answer your question, George," Luna said. Little rat.

"Ron?" George called. "How are things at home?"

"Things are not good at home," Ron confessed, sounding drained. "Things are awkward, like there's a cloud hanging over everyone's head. When we're in the same room, it starts raining. Everything just turns to fucking mud. So, I left… I just want to have a break, that's why I came back."

"Are you feeling tired right now?" Percy asked, hoping that wasn't the case.

"I'm exhausted…" Ron replied honestly, even his Pain-Relief Potion was wearing off. "Actually, can we all talk tomorrow? At breakfast. We can eat at outskirts of the Gryffindor Table, after I'm rested up."

"Ron…" Ginny gave him a meaningful look.

"No, he's right," George said, nudging Fred. "He should rest if he's tired."

"Have to keep that brain rested," Fred nodded. "We can all talk tomorrow, right, Ginny?"

"Right…" Ginny muttered, looking mildly annoyed over having the happy reunion spoiled.

"Can I have a moment with Ron?" Percy asked. "You should all go back to your common rooms."

"Here comes the lecture, Ronnie," Fred warned.

"Try not to fall asleep out here, you'll freeze to death," George smirked at Percy.

The twins were kind enough to escort Ginny and Luna away, neither girl looked ready to leave just yet. When it was finally Percy and Ron, the older Weasley let out a long breath.

"Merlin, Ron… Suicide?" Percy asked, sounding rather aggressive. Fuck me bloody, the twins were right.

"Don't even start with me," Ron warned, his tone giving Percy reason to pause. "The shit I've been through… You can't even begin to understand it, Percy. I've paid the price, okay? I have never felt so hopeless and defeated in my entire life. I still have nightmares about it, so don't think I don't regret it. I fucking hate myself for it… But I'm trying to move forward here, don't fucking turn on me as well. Not you."

Ron felt his nose pinch, and his eyes watered up quickly. Get it together, old boy. Get it together.

Percy looked lost for words, just standing there and rubbing his eyes.

"I know… I'm sorry…" Percy eventually apologized. "I'm just really… fucking… scared." He swore? "And worried, I'm constantly worried. Are you really seeing Madam Pomfrey? She'll give you the help you need?"

"She will," Ron shifted in his spot a little. "I'm trying, Percy, I really am."

"I believe you," Percy said, awkwardly opening his arms. "I've missed you, Ron."

Ron composed himself, walking forward and hugging his big brother. Percy patted his back, giving him a tight squeeze.

"I love you, you better know that," Percy pulled back, teary-eyed but no less awkward.

"I know," Ron felt truly soothed to hear that. "And, I love you too, Perce…"

"Okay," Percy tried to smile. "You go on, I need to… um… start my patrol. Yes, I need to patrol the Grounds."

"Sure, I understand," Ron said, not believing Percy for a moment. I'll see him at breakfast, and he clearly needs a moment to himself.

Ron headed back into the castle, shooting Percy one last look before departing for the Slytherin common room. Seeing his siblings again, as emotional as it was, had helped him mellow out a little. They felt sorry for him, as he expected, but they weren't being invasive. They were being… reasonable… They had taken his opinion into consideration, and that had meant the world to him.

Ron stopped in front of the Slytherin common room entrance, drawing in a deep breath. Now, what sort of speech should I give?

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: There it is! I hope you guys enjoyed it!

Now, as many of us know, Cyberpunk 2077 is out very soon. I'm sorry, but I will be missing for a few more days than usual. It can't be helped =)