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.

129. Chapter 129 - The Boy Who Triumphed

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Hello, I have returned. So, my mum got sick, and that extended my 'vacation'. It's all right, now. She's going to be fine, doctors were happy enough to discharge her. Now, a couple of things:

1. It's Fate's birthday tomorrow! (6th of January) I'm doing a Q and A on the discord, link in my profile. If you have questions, please submit them.

2. No Dueling Tournament this time, mainly coz a lot of people messaged me and asked me to give Ron a break. I decided that was fair, and I liked the direction that would take the character.

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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'Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light' Albus Dumbledore, Prisoner of Azkaban.

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Fate

Chapter 129 – The Boy Who Triumphed

Ronald Weasley's POV

Tuesday 23rd February, 1994 (The Dungeons – After Dinner)

Ron stood perfectly still, as he had for the last ten minutes; his brain hard at work in creating a plan for the Slytherins. In general, the plan was to befriend and influence as many of them as possible; they needed to be sheltered from the Dark Lord. Some would undoubtedly rebel, and in turn, cause trouble for everyone, but Ron would deal with the rebellious ones swiftly and harshly.

Slytherin had to change, it couldn't stand for Blood-Supremacy anymore. It needs to stand for something that we can all be proud of; unity and success.

"Open," Ron hissed, and the entrance quickly obeyed. I have a plan, let's get this over with.

He made his way inside, his confidence propelling him forward. No one noticed him at first, he had to walk towards the notice board before every eye was glued to him. And here comes the whispering… Bloody hell, that's going to get annoying very quickly.

"Can I have everyone's attention?" Ron said, despite already having their attention.

"Are you back, now?" Tori was the first to ask. "For good?" That was quick.

"Yes, I am," Ron replied, his eyes picking up all the responses. Most look interested rather than annoyed, which is good for me. Flint isn't even here? Where is he? I see his mates, they don't look very happy to see me, but Flint's not with them.

Ron's eyes then landed on the former Silver Triumvirate, they were watching him from a dark corner, their faces visible only because of the candle sitting between them. Clara didn't look particularly angry, but she certainly wasn't happy to see him either. Samantha looked utterly indifferent, which hardly surprised Ron. And as for Carey, she looked wary, almost on edge. When their eyes met, she quickly lowered hers. She can't even meet my eyes? Shit…

"Was everything in the Daily Prophet true?" Martha Hopkirk asked. This one doesn't like me either.

"Yes," Ron replied, not surprised when the weaker lot gasped before breaking into whispering. I don't even know who to look at, this is really bloody uncomfortable. I feel naked up here.

"So, you're really… dying…?" Derek from first year asked, his puffy cheeks were very red. When did this become an interview? I'm supposed to be giving a speech.

"I am," Ron said, not feeling particularly happy with himself when the first years looked horribly saddened. Flora and Hestia are mourning their Aunt and Uncle to boot… Don't I just spread joy wherever I go? They should send me to Azkaban, the Dementors would be out of a job.

"Did you really save Squib children from a prostitution ring?" Tanya from sixth year asked. Ring? As in, more than one prostitute?

"It wasn't a ring," Ron couldn't help but frown a little. "Priscilla made sure that her friends were safe from that life, only she had to…" he trailed off. Fucking Skeeter… She's a fucking liar who will say anything for more readers. Should I write an article on the Squibs to make the Daily Prophet look stupid, again?

"You have scars as well, then?" Boris Grimm asked, his eyes flashing in anticipation. "Can we see them?" How about I show you the back of my hand, first, Boris? You can admire the scar on my right hand, while I ring your massive ears.

"Enough questions, this is not an interview," Ron cleared his throat, spotting Daphne's sorry look from the fireplace. "I'm here to discuss what comes next for Slytherin House, I'm going to be making a few more changes. And, before anyone asks; Professor Snape has given me his blessing."

Quite a few weren't pleased to hear this, but no one spoke out against him.

"Firstly, let's talk about what's been going on in the Wizarding World," Ron continued. "A lot of horrible things have happened, and some in this House will be blamed for them. I'm talking about the Carrow Twins' party, of course…"

The discomfort could literally be felt, certain individuals were quick to avert their gazes.

"As far as I'm concerned, no one in this room had anything to do with that massacre," Ron said. "And as such, bullying of anyone who has lost a loved one will not be tolerated. You were all here, together; none of you can be blamed for what's happening out there." How's that? Did I just surprise you lot?

He had done a good enough job, many were giving him odd, but not disagreeable, looks. I need to give them a reason to become united, some form of foe that must be defeated for us all to prosper. Shame I can't use the Dark Lord, some of these idiots will drop their pants and start wanking at the mere mention of You-Know-Who.

"And, regardless of inner-House rivalries, I want us to protect our own against the other Houses," Ron continued. "At the end of the day, we Slytherins are not treated fairly by most of the Professors. Everyone knows this, and yet, the unfair treatment continues. I think the best solution to this issue is to become more protective of each other, and in time, better our relationship with the rest of Hogwarts." Because, let's face it, we are the most pompous House in Hogwarts, and we start most of the trouble ourselves. I can't say these things to my House-mates, but they know the truth deep down.

"Oh, and defending each other doesn't involve brawling," Ron added. "We can't afford to lose any House-Points. Just stick up for each other, help defuse the situation, or, simply walk away from it."

"You want us turning the other cheek every time someone comes at us?" Cassius Warrington asked. "That's hardly fair…"

"I want us to win the House-Cup," Ron said clearly. Winning that Cup will prove me to be an effective leader, further solidifying my 'rule'.

"And what if someone Jinxes us? Or, worse, Curses us?" Pansy asked. Hexes get thrown around all the time in Hogwarts, but she makes a good point. Some prick is bound to use their wand before they use their brain, there's no shortage of idiots within this school.

"If you are attacked, then you have to defend yourself," Ron replied. "Which leads me into my second rule; training for the upcoming Ranked Tournaments is compulsory. Every student who wears green and silver will attend. On Mondays, I will train with the first years-"

"You're going to teach us to fight?" Sebastian Cunningham asked, already looking excited. Fight? I'm teaching you how to throw a stunner in a straight line, first.

"The first years aren't even allowed to participate in the Duelling Club," Maria Cortez pointed out.

"They are still Slytherins, and I won't exclude them given how far they've put us in the lead for the Cup," Ron gave his reasons. And, they need to train as well. Just in case Hogwarts does get attacked. "Now, as I was saying; first years on Monday, second years on Tuesday, third years on Wednesday, and so on, right up to the seventh years on Sunday. Training starts at six, and it ends when the dinner bell rings."

"What?"

"That's too long…"

"I can't believe he's going to include us as well?!"

"This'll be good for the House."

"It's just one day."

"What about our O. W. Ls?"

"Shouldn't he be resting instead? What's the matter with him?"

"He's going to drop dead one of these days…"

The reactions were mixed, as Ron had expected. Lazy, but they want everything. Leading would be easier in the other Houses, I'm certain of it. Still, there are a few good apples in this barrel, and I hope they encourage the others to try harder.

"I am giving up my time as well," Ron said, keeping his voice calm and steady. "This is the right way forward; we need to win in each Rank if we're to dominate this school. We lost our streak last year, right out of the blue… Remember? We were in the race one moment, and the next, Gryffindor had won the House Cup." I should try to be more inspirational; I need to hook the doubters. This is difficult, so many of them just want to enjoy the lead while they have it. They think it's impossible for us to lose at this point, but I know from experience that even the best laid plans can suddenly blow up in your face.

"We've all given our best this year," Ron continued. "However, the year isn't finished yet, we still have a few months to go. Right now, is the time to push harder than ever, so we don't get cheated out of the victory we deserve. If Gryffindor wins the Quidditch Cup and the Ranked Tournaments, they could still take the lead. I saw the Hourglasses; the other Houses have been making a lot of points. Probably the Professors trying to keep things 'fair'…"

"We only need to win two out of four, at most," Jack Hughes said. "If you win the Rank A Tournament, and let's say, Nott wins the Rank C Tournament; our victory will be secured."

"I agree, but I still want us to win all four," Ron said, and Hughes gave him an understanding nod. "For that to happen, we all have to put in the work. Tomorrow, I expect the following students inside the Training Area at six; Daphne Greengrass, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy, Millicent Bulstrode, Gregory Goyle, and Vincent Crabbe." Tracey Davis…

"Crabbe and Goyle?" someone whispered.

"I thought he didn't like them much…"

"Didn't they both lose their fathers? Shouldn't they be mourning instead of training for some school tournament?"

"Attendance is compulsory," Ron said firmly. "I will come and find you if you don't show up, or, I'll send Professor Snape your way. This goes for every Slytherin, slacking will not be tolerated. Everyone will carry their own weight from now on. Those who earn House-Points and accomplishments will be rewarded, and those who fail and cost us House-Points will be punished. No one is exempt from this."

Again, there was silence, but no one looked outright rebellious. These are ideal changes, no one can refute that.

"Lastly, the delegates…" Ron looked from year to year. "… will remain the same. With one addition, Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini of third year will begin supervising the first years in my stead, and eventually, they will be joined by Pansy Parkinson." I'm already busy enough, my friends can handle the day-to-day business on their own.

"Shouldn't the second years watch over the first years?" Septimus Smith asked. "It seems to me that you are giving more perks to your friends." The second years? You want those clowns to watch over one of our most valuable assets?

"Second years!" Ron looked in their direction, they were all huddled around a table with their books. "Mathias, ask your friends, do any of them want to be in charge of the first years. Is babysitting something they're up for?"

The response from the second years was quick, none of them wanted to waste their free time watching over younger students. There, I just saved us all a fucking disaster.

"I want to have a delegates meeting on Sunday, after lunch," Ron decided to finish up. "We'll work out the finer details then, as a team."

With that, Ron began making his way towards the fireplace, he needed to have a quick word with his friends before retiring. The staring and whispering had returned, of course, doing very little to convince Ron to live within Slytherin. I can't wait to get out of here. Get all these damn eyes off of me.

"Ron, can we talk to you?" Tori jumped into his way, letting out a shriek when he nearly collided with her.

"Merlin, Tori," Ron frowned, stepping around her. "Watch it, will you? I almost stepped on you."

"I'm not that short," Tori huffed defiantly. "You'd have to jump, at least."

"Don't tempt me," Ron narrowed his eyes, though his body lost some of its tension.

"You wouldn't hurt me," Tori stuck up her nose, looking all too smug. "Father would have you disappeared!" True enough.

"Where did you hear such a thing, Tori?" Ron asked, slightly bemused. "Disappeared?"

"Hello, Ron," Mathew Roberts snuck in, waving at Ron. "How are you, mate?"

"Oi, we were talking here," Tori grit out. "Roberts, you're so rude!"

"I'm doing well, Mathew," Ron smiled at the lad, noticing the other first years behind him. "How are all of you?"

"It's been mental, Ron," John said plainly, shaking his head.

"Most of us are simply disturbed," Flora replied, not looking as down as her sister. "Very disturbed."

"Hestia?" Ron asked.

"I'm okay," Hestia replied, keeping her eyes low. Being a Carrow right now can't be easy.

"Flora, look after your sister," Ron ordered. "The rest of you as well, watch over the twins."

"We will," Derek promised, earning dull looks from the twins. "What? I'll help…"

"Are you going to be okay?" Lysandra asked. "I'm really sorry you're dying, Ron." Ah, feel no need to hold back, Lysandra. Kick me in the balls next time.

The first years looked downcast again, exchanging subtle glances of pity.

"Thanks…" Ron said, scratching the back of his neck. "You lot better behave with Malfoy and Blaise; I'll be annoyed if they tell me otherwise."

Awkwardness crept in quickly after that, with none of them knowing what to say. As for Ron, he was already edging himself away from this depressing exchange, feeling oddly guilty over upsetting the first years with his poor health. I should just tell them that I'm too tired for this-

"Can I talk to you before you go?" Tori suddenly asked, stopping Ron in his tracks. "Please?"

"Sure, Tori," Ron said, patting Mathew on the shoulder before following Tori closer to the fireplace. "What's the matter? You look anxious."

"Why did you give Flora a secret job, but not me?" Tori asked, pouting up at him. "She's been boasting about it constantly. Don't you care about how I feel?" Wait… What? Where did that come from?

"Tori, I love you, but your grades are slipping," Ron started, not telling Astoria about Flora's tricks. "You have to show me that I can trust you, it's that simple."

"But I don't like to study," Tori's pout became a frown. "And Roberts won't let me cheat off of him, which is not very friendly."

"Tori, do you even hear yourself?" Ron sighed out, trying to think of a way to help Tori but not give her a handout. I can't let her get away with her lack of effort anymore, even if I really want to because of what Lord Greengrass shared with me. Maybe I can trick her into working harder? She wants to show off to her friends, clearly, but she doesn't see a reason to put in the work. "How about this, Tori? If you work harder and achieve 'Exceeds Expectations' on all of your upcoming assignments; I'll give you something special. An important mission." I'll come up with something, just in case she ups her game.

"What sort of mission?" Tori whispered, stepping forward for privacy. "Will I get to spy on people?"

"Why do you always want to peep on people?" Ron couldn't help but ask, but Tori simply shrugged in response. "Never mind… Just show me some improvement, and we'll discuss this further. In secret." That should do.

"This better be real," Tori beamed, unable to contain her excitement. "Oh, it'll be great! I won't let you down, Ron!" At least she's trying to be her usual-self around me, I can appreciate that. She's known about my conditions for a very long time, while the rest of the first years will be reeling for a while.

"Spies don't shout, Tori," Ron said, his lips twitching upwards when Tori quickly covered her mouth. "Now, go on, I need to speak to my friends."

"Can you tell Daphne not to boss me around anymore?" Tori asked, heading off towards her year-mates. "She's been very stuck-up, lately."

"None of that," Ron scolded, but she didn't even respond. Your sister's been stressed out of her mind, lately. Whatever… She's not listening anymore.

Ron cleared his head before making his way towards his friends, all of them were waiting for him. Malfoy looks annoyed-

"I'm not looking after the first years, Weasley," Malfoy was quick to share his thoughts.

"Oh, yes, you are," Ron said. "It's time to put that lordly training to good use, Malfoy. We all have to do our parts, now."

"Why me?" Malfoy asked.

"I got stuck with them as well," Blaise rolled his eyes. "Do you hear me complaining, Malfoy? Just do it." He wasn't so eager when Daphne was running things, can't help but notice that.

"See, be like Blaise," Ron smiled at Malfoy, who frowned menacingly. "He hates the first years, but he's willing to do his part in order to help his House-mates."

"Fine…" Malfoy muttered under his breath, going back to reading his book. Odd… I thought he'd put up more of a fight than this.

"Pans?" Ron then looked towards Pansy. "How do you feel about looking over the first years? Are you up for it?"

"Sure, Ron," Pansy nodded weakly. "I'll be okay, I just need some answers, first."

"Take your time," Ron said, feeling the urge to rub circles on her back.

"Third year has six delegates, now?" Theo asked. "Kind of defeats the purpose of being singled out, doesn't it?"

"You've been picked out for different duties," Ron replied. "Service is its own reward, Theo."

"If you say so," Theo gave Ron a dull look.

"Does anyone have any questions?" Ron asked, looking at each of them. "Brilliant… I'm glad we can move on from this-"

"Can I talk to you?" Blaise asked. "Alone."

"Sure, mate," Ron gestured Blaise to follow him away from the group.

They found an empty table not far from them, it was close enough to a corner to warrant privacy. What do I tell him? That I haven't found a damn thing? That's going to gut him.

"Have you really found no trace of Lord De Luca?" Blaise asked without delay. "Not even a clue, Ron?"

"The man in charge of finding Lord De Luca mentioned hidden villas," Ron replied. "Do you know if your mother-"

"She has private villas all over Magical Europe," Blaise cut in. "Merlin knows what she gets up to in her spare time, I only know that her lifestyle involves a lot of whoring." Whoring? Bloody hell, Blaise, don't hold back…

"Right…" Ron said awkwardly. "Look, if they're staying in a hidden villa, it'll be impossible to find them under the confines of Magical Law. I'd have to commit several crimes just to get a trail-"

"No, don't do that," Blaise interrupted, looking frustrated. "I shouldn't have tried to warn him, I got him killed-"

"Blaise, you did the right thing," Ron tried. "Lord De Luca was already in danger; it was just a matter of time before she tried something. You wanted to protect him."

"But I didn't protect him," Blaise said shortly. "I sent a letter, instead of speaking to him in person, and my mother got a hold of it before he did. Let's be real about this, Ron… We spooked her, and she took Lord De Luca away to finish him off. We… I… I fucking killed a man, Ron…" Bloody hell, why is this happening to him? Clementine Zabini needs to be locked away in Azkaban forever.

"We don't even know if he's dead yet," Ron tried again, but Blaise's expression remained grave. "We don't know anything, Blaise. That's the truth of it. You and I are just taking guesses in the dark. Give my bloke some time, he'll find Lord De Luca. We'll get our answers soon."

"I can't just wait around-" Blaise started.

"You're going to have to," Ron said. Getting a leaf for Tracey is my main objective right now, but I should still keep my eyes out for Lord De Luca. Clementine Zabini could become a threat to me, but if this is what Blaise wants, then I'll wrestle with that Black Widow as well. It figures that I'd have to face a fucking spider eventually, the Universe loves being a cunt.

"What do we do if he's dead?" Blaise asked hesitantly. "I don't even know what we'd do if he were alive."

Ron shot a quick look at the others; they didn't look like they were eavesdropping.

"If he's dead, then we need to get you away from your mother," Ron whispered. "It'll be your choice, of course, but I would strongly recommend that you withdraw your gold and run."

"Run where?" Blaise frowned deeply. "Into the mountains, Ron? Are you mental?"

"My family would take you in," Ron offered, taking Blaise by surprise. "My parents don't have much, but they would help you-"

"They barely know me," Blaise said suddenly. They barely know Malfoy, but they want to take care of him, don't they? They might be a bit lazy and judgemental, but they are still good people. They would help Blaise, I'm certain of it.

"Well, if my parents don't want to take you in, then you and I will find a place to share," Ron shrugged. "You won't be alone, Blaise, so don't worry about that."

Blaise shifted in his spot a little, thinking about Ron's offer. Does Pansy get Parkinson Estate? What happens to her now that she's the last Parkinson left? I need to get on top of this. Maybe I can turn the Parkinson Estate into a hideout for me and my friends? With Pansy's permission, of course.

"Thanks, Ron…" Blaise said after a few moments. "Let's just find him, first, okay? Then, we can figure out what to do." I think I got through to him. Good job, Ron.

"Sounds like a good plan," Ron smiled a little. "You feel better?"

"Sod off," Blaise rolled his eyes, leaving to go join the others.

"I wasn't teasing you, mate," Ron couldn't help but chuckle, following after Blaise but not sitting down. I reckon, it's bedtime for me.

"Ron? You're not going to sit?" Daphne asked. "There's so much we need to talk about, all of us." Really?

"We do?" Ron asked slowly, gauging everyone's reactions. Is it just me, or, does Millicent look like she's in pain now that I'm here? Whatever… I'll be leaving soon, anyway.

"Crabbe and Goyle are joining us, tomorrow?" Malfoy asked with a frown. "Really, Weasley?" Ah… I should've known.

"They're third years," Ron shrugged. "I can't just exclude them-"

"Of course, you can," Theo interjected. "You're the king, Ron. You can make up whatever rule you like, within reason, that is." I already have a plan, and I'm not changing it.

"Ron, they attacked you, remember?" Daphne reminded him, shooting a not-so subtle look towards Malfoy. Stop that, already, Daphne. Leave him be.

"Don't we have enough problems as it is?" Blaise asked. "I don't know about you lot, but I could use less problems in my life."

The others nodded, save for Millicent, who continued to pretend like she was anywhere but in close proximity to Ron. I'm trying to take potential Death-Eaters away from the Dark Lord. It's why I protected Malfoy, it's why I've never brought up Theo and Blaise doing a runner on me, it's why I haven't thrown Millicent out into the cold. The Dark Lord is the enemy, and he wants to leech off of this House. Why can't they understand that? I've explained my reasoning to them a dozen times over.

"Those two just lost their fathers," Ron said, looking slightly disappointed with his friends. "I know most of you can relate to that. Losing someone you care for, that is." Bloody hell, I must sound like a broken record to them.

"We can, but this isn't a good idea, Ron," Pansy spoke up. "Crabbe and Goyle were really close with their fathers, it's why they're such brutes as well." They were close to their fathers?

An odd mixture of guilt and self-doubt began to bubble within Ron's gut, but he was quick to smother his ill feelings. It's a shame that Crabbe and Goyle are suffering right now, but their fathers needed to be dealt with. Someone had to stop them. Permanently. Ron drew in a deep breath to regain his centre, the entire affair at the Carrow Twins' estate had continued to haunt him.

So much death and misery, with Ron right at the heart of it all. I should call Marty tonight, talk to him about what happened at the Carrow Twins' estate. Then, I can put this wretched chapter of my life behind me… I need to focus on what's ahead-

"Ron? Are you all right?" Daphne asked worriedly.

"You completely vanished on us," Pansy said.

"I'm very tired," Ron admitted, yawning at the end. "And it's been a long day, sorry for zoning out like that."

"Do you want to sleep? We can talk about Crabbe and Goyle tomorrow," Daphne suggested.

"There is no talking about Crabbe and Goyle," Ron said, his mind was made up. "I've told you lot what's happening, and that's that. I'm not asking you to become their best friends, I'm only asking you to tolerate them. It's not that hard, is it?"

Daphne went to argue, but Ron waved a dismissive hand in her direction; he was done with this 'debate'.

"I'm the 'king', what I say goes," Ron told them bluntly, his eyes darting towards Daphne. "I don't want to hear it, Daphne. My mind is made up."

Daphne's features became ice-cold, she was no doubt going to go into one of her sour moods, now. Brilliant… Another reason to not live down here. Ron shook his head, looking frustrated and disappointed at the same time. Crabbe and Goyle could die in the Dark Lord's service, I know they understand how grave the situation is, but they still behave like this when their comfort is threatened ever so slightly? All they have to do is to not be cunts, that's it. I'll deal with Crabbe and Goyle personally, so what's their problem with this?

Ron decided not to go on a rant, using his Occlumency to regain control over his emotions, instead. Yeah, I'll do this myself. Expecting anything out of anyone is idiotic. Ron turned and began heading towards the exit, ignoring the stares that suddenly felt very invasive. I need to plan a funeral for my privacy…

"Where are you going?" Theo asked, he and Blaise had caught up to Ron near the exit.

"I'm the king? Really?" Blaise asked right after, and Ron simply shrugged. Yes, really. The Headmaster and Professor Snape will also help me with Crabbe and Goyle. The Old Ways need to change, and that change needs to start right here, in this common room. All three of us need to work on making this generation of Slytherins better than the last.

"I'm heading up to the Sanctuary," Ron told them, he didn't have it in him to give them an inspirational speech. "I'll be living up there from now on, I'm not ready to share my space with so many people."

"You can't be serious," Theo looked gobsmacked, while Blaise just continued to stare at Ron.

"I am," Ron said. "If you need anything, come up and find me."

"Yes, we'll just march up the entire bloody castle anytime we want to have a chat," Theo frowned. "Does that sound reasonable to you, Ron? Does it?"

"I'll be around, all right?" Ron sighed out. "Get off my back, you prick."

"You'll still come down for the training sessions, though?" Blaise asked.

"Of course," Ron replied.

"Then, I don't see anything wrong with wanting some privacy," Blaise said, looking to Theo. "No one is stopping you from finding a hideout for yourself, Theo."

"It looks bad if the king doesn't sleep in his castle," Theo explained very slowly. "Do you really want to give people more reasons to whisper behind your back?"

"Honestly, I think we've grown to care a little too much about what other people think," Ron said, he was too fed up to care. "My only concern is winning the House-Cup, and once that secures my role in this House, I can start saving as many people from the Dark Lord as possible."

"What?" both boys blinked. For fuck's sake…

"Yes, he's still out there, in case you've forgotten," Ron said, gesturing his friends to look at their House-mates. "Every person in this room could be his potential victim, or worse, soldier. He'll stop at nothing to get what he wants, even if it involves killing us all." Ron then turned to leave. "Crabbe and Goyle will join us, and you two will not harass them. Malfoy is turning over a new leaf, isn't he? I'm willing to bet that it's not too late for Crabbe and Goyle either. I want to ease them into the group, change them." Give them a chance.

"He's got his hero-complex back," Theo looked to Blaise.

"Evidently," Blaise nodded, an indifferent look on his face. "Goodnight, then."

"Good night," Ron began heading up the steps leading towards the exit. "Tell the girls what I just told you two, I want all of us on the same page going forward." This time, all of Hogwarts will condemn the Dark Lord, with Slytherin right at the front.

---

Tuesday 23rd February, 1994 (The Sanctuary – Night)

"Did Zolly suffer, Master?" Marty suddenly asked, he was sitting in the chair across from Ron.

"Not really, no," Ron replied, feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden.

Artyom's beliefs about the House Elves didn't sit well with Ron, they just sounded like excuses to justify harming the poor bastards. Zolly was no doubt a piece of work; she definitely hated Blood-Traitors with a passion, but her hatred was forced into her. Much like Ron, House-Elves were bound to the whims and fancies of a different species, and he knew all too well how easy it was to mimic the behaviours of one's tormentors. If she had been my Elf, I'm sure she would've been disgusted with the Carrow Twins, just as Marty is now.

"Master? Did Marty say something wrong?" Marty asked, he had hopped off of his seat and was now standing in front of Ron.

"No… No, you didn't," Ron cleared his throat, the sound of Zolly's neck cracking echoing in his head. "I'm just… I wish your friend didn't have to die…. I'm sorry, Marty. I feel like I've done something terrible to you-"

"Master had no other choice," Marty said. "Zolly would have never betrayed the Carrow Twins, Zolly was always very loyal." He does sound a bit sad, though… Shit…

"I'm sorry," Ron apologized, massaging his forehead. "Damn… What a fucking mess…"

"Truly, Master," Marty nodded weakly in agreement. "Marty hopes that You-Know-Who runs away and never returns…" If only, mate.

"How are you holding up?" Ron asked, hoping to change the subject.

"Marty is well," Marty replied, showing Ron his healed hand. "Master is very skilled in Healing Magic."

"No, I'm not," Ron smiled in relief. "But thanks, I'm glad you're back to feeling like yourself. We both need to put these last few weeks behind us, focus on what's ahead, you know?"

Marty nodded properly this time, looking prepared for anything.

"For now, we'll keep our heads down in order to take care of the Werewolves," Ron explained his plan to his right-hand Elf. "I've been getting into too many fights lately, and that needs to stop. Getting one of those Magical Healing Leaves for Tracey is going to be our main priority after the Werewolves. You and I are going to play Chess every single night, do you know how to play?"

"Marty understands the basics, but nothing more," Marty said apologetically. "Master should find a more adept opponent; Marty will not provide much challenge." The Headmaster? Is that wise, though? I'm still not fully over his lack of action, he's Albus fucking Dumbledore… He could've accomplished so much by now if he had just pushed himself a little harder. But no, he decided to lock himself away in a tower, while the Death-Eaters got a free-pass to do as they please.

"I'll find someone else, then," Ron said, yawning once again.

"Master should sleep," Marty suggested, eyeing the bags under Ron's eyes.

"I agree," Ron nodded, closing his eyes. "Artyom asked London to find information on this Sacred Tree in Ilvermorny, when she owls me her findings, I'll call you over. We need to have a plan of attack ready before Easter Break."

"Marty will await Master's call most anxiously," Marty bowed deeply. "Good night, Master."

"G'night, mate," Ron yawned, crossing his arms and snuggling against the armrest.

"Master should sleep on the bed," Marty said.

"Just taking a nap, want to practise some Wandless Magic later," Ron said in response. "It's fine, I'm comfortable."

Marty let out a dramatic sigh before cracking out of the room, giving Ron cause to chuckle to himself. He's not as formal as he used to be, I like that. It was hard to talk to him when we first met, he took everything too literally. Maybe…. I should've spoken more to Zolly… Marty changed, didn't he? Damnit…

Ron's eyes opened by themselves; he wasn't going to get any sleep tonight, was he? Might as well practise, then. Become better. I'll sleep tomorrow night.

---

Ginny Weasley's POV

Wednesday 24th February, 1994 (The Black Lake – Early Morning)

Ginny hadn't felt this anxious in a long time, her brother's return to Hogwarts had set the school ablaze. Gossip could be heard in every corner of Hogwarts; everyone had an opinion and a theory to share about Ronald Weasley.

It was sick…

Morons like Lavender Brown were spreading lies such as Ron being a Werewolf, while nosey parkers like the older Ravenclaws wanted to learn about which Dark Spell had condemned Ron to an early grave.

All of it was sick, and Ginny felt horrible for Ron.

She herself was guilty of being curious about Ron's secrets, but now, she wished that she hadn't been so tactless. Ron was worse off than any of them, it wasn't even a competition anymore. He even has more scars than me… Merlin, it's like he won the lottery for the worst life on Earth.

Now, she didn't have to wonder why Ron never laughed carelessly anymore, or, lazed about at every given opportunity. He had to make the best of the time he had left, and that time was quickly running out. This thought had scared Ginny to the point of tears, her entire world simply felt different, now. It felt less safe; the Wizarding World was quickly looking even more dangerous than the Forbidden Forest.

"You're here early, little red," came Nott's voice, and Ginny immediately turned around. Little red? Ugh, I don't like this nickname very much, but he won't stop using it.

Nott, Zabini, and Malfoy were coming down towards her, with Nott leading the way. Where's Ron? And I don't see Millicent either.

"Where's my brother?" Ginny asked Nott.

"He's not with you?" Nott asked in response, looking around the shore.

"You're his roommates, aren't you?" Ginny asked, frowning a little. "Didn't he wake up with you lot?"

Nott and Zabini exchanged looks, while Malfoy gave Ginny a bored look. What are you staring at, you ponce? Ginny narrowed her eyes at Malfoy, and the pale boy frowned in response. Malfoys… Why is he joining us all of a sudden? Is it because Ron's back? Why are they even friends?

"I'll be going on ahead," Malfoy said suddenly, ending the staring contest with a look of mild disgust. "Weasley's not with us, you should go look for him in the castle." Trying to get me to leave? Well, that's not going to happen. I'm running with Ron, and I don't care about anything else.

Malfoy jogged off at that, not bothering to stretch before starting his exercise.

"Why isn't he with you?" Ginny walked over to Nott, getting into his personal space.

"First of all, don't get so close to me," Nott started, smirking smugly. "What would your parents say, Ginevra?"

Ginny felt her face heat up, and her ears began to turn red. Ugh! He's the worst of the lot! Always smirking like some seedy, moustache-twirling villain! Ginny took a step back, she definitely preferred Millicent over Nott.

"That's better," Nott said. "Now, I have no clue about your brother's whereabouts. Ron does what Ron wants, plain and simple. If he wants to join us, he will."

"But he promised," Ginny blurted out, feeling frustrated.

"He's had a rough go of things, lately," Nott said, elbowing Zabini's side. "Right, Blaise?"

"I'm sure she's read the papers," Zabini said indifferently, stretching his left arm. "Just give him a bit of time, it's usually best to leave Ron alone when he's chasing after solitude. Being overly clingy with him will only annoy him, and trust me, you don't want that."

Ginny wanted to argue, but the thought of Ron becoming upset with her gave her reason to pause. She was doing well in her recovery, according to Madam Pomfrey, at least; and making peace with her brother was a big part of getting better. She didn't want to start fighting with him again, it had made her so miserable the last time. I shouldn't make a fuss about this… It's just one morning, and who knows? He could still show up.

Her questions could wait, she was at least certain that Ron wouldn't miss breakfast.

---

Wednesday 24th February, 1994 (The Great Hall– Breakfast)

Ron had skipped breakfast…

"I'm telling you, something's not right with him," Ginny said to her siblings, they were all sitting on the far end of the Gryffindor table. "Ron always goes for a run; I don't remember the last time he missed one."

"And he'd never miss breakfast," Luna agreed, stirring her oatmeal absentmindedly.

"And what did his friends say about his whereabouts, again?" Percy asked with a furrowed brow.

"They didn't say anything," Ginny couldn't help but frown. "I asked them, but they kept changing the subject." At least, Nott and Zabini acknowledged me; Malfoy was pretending like I wasn't even there.

"We should talk to them," Fred suggested.

"Finally," George rolled his eyes. "I suggested we do that before, but none of you listened." George then focused on Percy. "How did your talk with Ron go? Did he give you some answers? Did he tell you why he thought jumping off of the Astronomy Tower was a good idea?"

They all focused their attentions onto Percy, who shifted in his spot a little. Well?! Tell us what happened, already.

"I tried to ask him about… it…" Percy started, clearing his throat and fixing his glasses. "But he went off on me, told me that he regretted everything. He wants to move on with his life, so I doubt he'll discuss this any further."

"He has to explain himself," Fred said adamantly. "Why didn't he come to any of us? We would've helped him."

They all nodded in unison; Ron had to explain himself eventually. There are so many questions that I want to ask him. A sudden spike in whispering caught all of their attentions, something exciting had occurred. Ginny and the others looked towards the entrance of the Great Hall, spotting Ron standing in the doorway. He was wearing his usual, Slytherin-coloured school uniform, it looked freshly pressed.

They were close enough to the entrance for Ron to spot them immediately, and he quickly began making his way over, his eyes darting between the rest of student-body and his siblings. He looks really tired; didn't he get any sleep last night? And what's with that expression? He looks so shady, as if he's a criminal.

"Hello," Ron greeted them, taking a seat next to Luna. "I'm sorry for being late, I had a late night. Percy, can you pass the eggs, please?"

"Where were you, Ron?" Percy asked, passing the plate of eggs over.

"Why didn't you come for the morning run?" Ginny asked, making sure to not sound upset. "Were you worried that I'd beat you? Trying to save face?"

Ron smiled a little, looking a bit more at ease. Madam Pomfrey's right! I'm getting better!

"We'll race tomorrow," Ron promised, filling up his plate.

"You didn't answer my question, Ron," Percy said.

"Yeah, where were you?" Fred asked.

"I was in Slytherin," Ron replied, concentrating on packing bacon onto his plate. Weird… I think he's lying, Nott and Zabini would've woken him up. "What's with the interrogation? I was tired, and I slept in a bit."

"It's not an interrogation," George said quickly. "We were just curious, our conversation ended really abruptly last night. We… Um…"

George looked towards Percy, looking into his brother's eyes as if to give him a message through a mental link.

"We've got some questions," Percy caught on. "Ron, why didn't you come to any of us? We would've helped you, you know that, don't you?"

Ron took a bite of his eggs, subtly hiding his gaze.

"Ron, don't ignore us," Luna spoke up.

"I'm not ignoring you…" Ron muttered, letting out a long breath. "I… I don't know what to say, that's all… I wasn't thinking straight, and I ended up doing something really stupid. What else can I say?"

Ginny felt wretched down to her very core; she missed her childhood now more than ever. Everything was perfect back then; it was just us Weasleys and Lovegoods. Those were the best days of my life. Ron wasn't sick, I hadn't found the Diary, and we were all happy.

Ginny looked towards her elder brothers, but they looked just as downcast and lost as her. What are we going to do about him? I don't even know where to begin-

"Everyone in Ravenclaw has been talking about Priscilla, Ron," Luna suddenly re-entered the conversation, looking as sharp as her mother. Priscilla? Oh, that's right! The Squib girl!

"Really?" Ron asked, looking up from his plate.

"It's the same in Gryffindor," Ginny added. "Hermione's been talking about it constantly. And you know what's mental? Lavender and Parvati had a long chat with her yesterday, I think they were talking about you setting a proper example."

"Hermione had a decent conversation with those two?" Ron didn't look convinced. Wow, thanks for that vote of confidence. She's not that harsh on them.

"Angelina's the same," Fred told Ron. "She's been talking about you like you're Merlin's second coming. It's annoying, frankly."

"It's not that bad," George said, rolling his eyes at Fred. "They just think he did the right thing; they don't worship him, or, anything. Alicia still thinks that he's a bit odd, and Katie was too intimidated to approach him when I offered." You're offering 'Ron tours'?

"People are really saying these things?" Ron asked slowly, his brow furrowed in suspicion. What's wrong with him? He's a hero! Everyone I've talked to thinks so, at least! Including some of the Professors!

"We've all read the papers, Ron," Percy said, looking baffled at Ron's response. "The Werewolves, the Squibs-"

"The homeless from Knockturn Alley," George cut in.

"Even Dumbledore praised your 'character and strength'," Ginny remembered. "That's Albus Dumbledore, Ron; if he says it's true, then it probably is."

"My friends and I think you're a hero," Luna said, smiling brightly. "Which reminds me; can you spend some time with us? I promised my friends I'd bring you over for show and tell." Is everyone giving Ron tours?

"Show and what?" Ron blinked, suddenly drawing in a sharp breath. "Luna, don't go around spreading that tripe, please. A hero? Really?"

"She's not spreading anything, you ponce," Fred clicked his tongue. "What's the matter with you? You're the star of the school… That doesn't get you excited?"

Ron looked anything but excited, which Ginny found truly bizarre. Apparently, my brother and Harry Potter are the only students in Hogwarts who don't want to be celebrities.

"Hey, you've done a lot of good things, Ronnie," George said, his tone the complete opposite of Fred's. "Merlin, even we didn't know anything about what you do, not really. I mean, we'd heard, but we never understood until now. We all think it's mental, but in a really good way! Right, you lot?"

Ron looked between each of them, while they all nodded and smiled at him. Still, I want to know why Ron never made all of this public before. He could've been even more famous by now, and if I can understand that, then I'm pretty sure he knows it too. Why would he keep helping Priscilla a secret? It was such a sweet thing to do. Ginny didn't know much about Squibs, yet, but she definitely knew that she didn't like the idea of any person living such a horrible life. Especially a young girl. I hope she and her friends are finally happy, thanks to Ron.

"The Ministry's really let us all down," Percy said, shocking everyone around him. "But it's good that you were there to pick up the slack, little brother. We're all really proud of you."

Ginny and Luna nodded instinctively, while the twins patted Ron's back and ruffled his neat hair. Ron said nothing, silently fixing up his hair whilst focusing on his breakfast plate. It was an underwhelming reaction, and Ginny couldn't help but feel a hint of annoyance.

Why was he doubting them?

"You're not just saying this to make me feel better?" Ron suddenly asked, locking eyes with Percy.

"You have some serious trust issues, Ron," Fred sighed out. Honestly…

"You'll see for yourself," George said. "Sooner or later, people will pluck up the courage to approach you. There won't be a place where you'll be able to hide, Ronnikins."

Ron looked towards the rest of the student-body, his jaw clenching up. Wait… Is he angry about this? Why? This is every student's dream! Eventually, his gaze returned to his siblings; he now seemed more thoughtful than upset. What is happening in that head of yours? Ginny shot a subtle glance towards Luna; she was staring at Ron with overwhelming intensity. Is she trying to figure out his thoughts as well? I don't think I've seen Luna so serious before.

"I… don't know what to say…" Ron suddenly said, fidgeting with his utensils. "Thank you." I suppose that's better than nothing…

"Are you sure that you're fit to be back, Ron?" Percy asked. "You don't look like you are."

"I'm fine," Ron replied, sitting up straighter. "Seriously, Perce, it means a lot to hear you say that. I figured that you lot didn't really care about my… hobby."

"That's one hell of a hobby, Ronnie," Fred grinned, making Luna giggle. "Almost makes me feel guilty for enjoying what George and I do." I doubt that.

"Almost," George repeated, and Fred nodded.

"Thanks," Ron smiled more fully, his breakfast forgotten. "Um… If any of you have any questions, I wouldn't mind answering them. I know you're curious about… me." Really?!

"Okay! Wait!" Ginny said in a hurry, cutting everyone else off. "How did you convince Dumbledore to help you build a house for the Squibs?"

"That's a good one," George said approvingly, looking to Ron.

"Well, after I met Priscilla a second time-" Ron started, but the morning bell cut him off. NO! You have got to be joking!

"Time for classes, everyone," Percy said, fixing his glasses into place. "Go on, Luna. Stand up."

"Bye, Ron!" Luna waved as she slid out of her seat. Ugh… Now, we'll have to wait until lunch!

---

Hermione Granger's POV

Tuesday 23rd February, 1994 (Potions Classroom – After Classes)

God, it was taking everything in her power to control herself.

Ron was standing right next to her, carefully shaving the serpent fangs with a serene expression on his face. She had so many questions to ask him, especially about the treatment of Squibs within the Wizarding World, but try as she might; the words wouldn't leave her throat.

The last time she had spoken with Ron, he had seemed like an entirely different person. Perhaps, this was due to hindsight; Ron was not as much of an enigma as before. Rather, he was just a sick young man, one who was trying to do some good in the world before his untimely demise.

It was the most tragic thing Hermione had ever witnessed, and it tore her heart to pieces to know that he had tried to end his own life due to his crippling conditions.

"Hermione, the cauldron is bubbling," Ron suddenly said, waking Hermione up.

"I know that, I can hear it," Hermione said defensively, stirring the murky brown mixture.

"Sorry," Ron shrugged, not looking bothered in the slightest. "The fang shavings are ready for you, here you go."

He passed the bowl over, and Hermione took it with an awkward smile. Ron stared back, his expression perfectly still. Should I just ask about Priscilla and the other Squibs? Lavender and Parvati want answers just as much as I do, and this is a good chance to get them.

"What's the matter with you?" Ron asked. "You're very distracted today, Hermione." He's right, Professor Snape is bound to notice me dozing off.

"I'm just…" Hermione started, tossing in the fang shavings. Start again, and don't get frazzled. Just be your usual-self, Hermione. Wait! Don't do that! That's terrible advice!

"Hermione?" Ron called, looking slightly worried. "Do you want me to call Professor Snape-?" No! He'll dock House-Points from Gryffindor!

"It's good to see you back in classes, Ron," Hermione blurted out. "And I'm so sorry about everything, really sorry. None of us had any idea that you were feeling so… broken. I wish we had paid more attention; we all feel wretched. If you ever want to talk-" You're rambling, Hermione!

Hermione paused, gauging Ron's bewildered reaction. Great job, you dunderhead. You made him uncomfortable…

"Everyone's read the papers, huh?" Ron walked over, taking over the cauldron duty. Um… I was stirring the mixture just fine. "You don't need to feel sorry for me, I'm actually doing all right. No more suicidal thoughts, I promise."

"You have to know that there's nothing wrong with feeling that way," Hermione said, she had read about depression in her mother and father's medical books.

"There's nothing wrong with feeling that way?" Ron shot her a quick look. "I'm not so sure about that, Hermione… Feeling that hopeless and lost, no one should have to feel that way. And if they do, then they need to try and get their life together. You wouldn't understand, though, not that that's your fault." What's that supposed to mean? I understand perfectly well.

"I've read about depression, Ron," Hermione huffed, putting her hand forward for the ladle. "I understand how terrible it can feel."

Ron's discomfort was more than apparent, and he quietly handed her the ladle before taking a step back. Hermione took over her duties once again, stirring the poisonous mixture. It'll turn dark purple soon, that's when I need to call in Professor Snape-

"I'm not depressed…" Ron muttered to himself, but Hermione heard him.

"There's nothing wrong with it, Ron," Hermione turned around, ladle in hand.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Ron said, seriousness marring his features. "I'm not depressed, okay? I was… You know what? I don't have to explain anything to you. Give me the ladle."

"No, I'm on cauldron duty," Hermione said, why was he getting upset with her? I'm telling him that he doesn't need to feel bad about anything, but he's just getting more and more upset. "I'm trying to be supportive, Ronald. Why are you being so aggressive?"

"Supportive?" Ron asked dully. "You're saying that I'm depressed." Why else would you want to commit suicide?

"Are you two paying attention to your potion?" Professor Snape hissed; he had crept up to them without being seen. "Why is the concoction still brown? I have been keeping track of the time, it should be purple by now."

Hermione looked into the cauldron, noticing that the poison was still murky brown. I haven't been stirring! Oh, no!

"Um… Professor-" Hermione started.

"Give the ladle to Mr. Weasley," Professor Snape frowned deeply. "Ten points from Gryffindor, pay more attention next time."

Professor Snape limped away with that, leaving Hermione gawking at his back. Ten points?! He's a House-Point thief!

"Sorry about that," Ron sighed out, asking for the ladle.

Hermione handed it over with a huff, stomping over to the ingredients. I can't lose any more points, so I'll just stay quiet. I upset Ron, anyway, even though I was only trying to be supportive… What's the point in small talk, now?

"He can be a prick, sometimes," Ron suddenly whispered, catching her attention. "Professor Snape, that is."

"Don't say that," Hermione frowned. "He's our Professor, Ron." That's such a rude thing to say about an adult.

"Right…" Ron muttered. "I'd forgotten that you're a hard person to talk to, Hermione." Pardon?

"Well, you're not exactly a charmer yourself," Hermione glowered at the ingredients, feeling hot in the face. "I was just trying to be supportive, Ron." And you're being a prat.

Ron studied her reddening face, and then he went back to stirring the poison. Hermione frowned again, feeling annoyed with Ron and herself. Did I do something wrong? I was courteous, understanding, and not judgemental whatsoever… God, I wish people were books, then I could just read them-

"I'm sorry you lost House-Points," Ron apologized. "I didn't mean for that to happen, Hermione… I'll talk to Professor Snape after the Potions Club-"

"He's not going to listen to you," Hermione whispered, some of her agitation coming through. "Just leave it, Ron… You'll only get yourself in trouble, Professor Snape will never give those points back. He's always doing this to us, you get used to it."

Ron stopped stirring, turning to face her with a terribly grave expression.

"Bad things keep happening if you just 'leave it'," Ron said firmly. "I'll talk to him; you didn't deserve to lose any House-Points. I took the ladle from you, remember?"

"And, pray tell, what will you say to him that'll make him change his mind?" Hermione asked challengingly.

Ron suddenly smirked, taking Hermione by surprise.

"I'll tell him not be a cunt," Ron shrugged, going back to stirring the cauldron. A… A c-word?!

"Ronald… You can't say that," Hermione hissed as she looked around them for potential eavesdroppers.

Professor Snape was, thankfully, on the other side of the room; threatening to drown Max McDean in his nearly-botched Essence of Insanity.

"What can't I say, again?" Ron asked calmly. I'm not saying that word!

"You know exactly what," Hermione frowned deeply. "That is a disgusting word, how can you say it so openly?"

"Because…" Ron looked towards Hermione. "There are far worse things out there than cunts, I promise." He said it again?!

Hermione felt as if someone were scratching a blackboard right next to her ear, which only seemed to amuse Ron.

"I don't care about the House-Points," Hermione started. "Just stop saying that word, Ronald. Or… Or, I'll tell Professor Dumbledore." He thinks so highly of you, what would he say if he heard you right now?

"Oh, no," Ron 'gasped'. "Not Professor Dumbledore, whatever will I do, now?"

"Ha-ha," Hermione rolled her eyes. "You shouldn't be proud of being disrespectful, Ronald. It's not very flattering."

"Are you telling me that Professor Snape punishing you needlessly is 'respectful'? Respect has to go both ways, doesn't it?" Ron asked in response. "All jokes aside, Hermione, I'm still going to speak to him after-"

"Ron, you'll only get me into more trouble," Hermione started.

"And if I don't talk to him, he'll continue being a cunt," Ron cut in. "Is it any wonder that everyone hates Slytherin? With people like our own Head of House bullying students at every given opportunity…"

Hermione blinked at that; she hadn't expected a Slytherin, even Ron, to speak poorly of the House of Serpents in any way. Slytherins were notorious for acting like they were better than everyone else, even the lowliest Slytherin was better than the mightiest Gryffindor. At least, in their own deluded eyes.

"You want Professor Snape to behave himself?" Hermione whispered, shooting a quick glance at the limping Professor. "Why? Doesn't this help Slytherin? The other Houses losing House-Points, I mean?"

"In the short term, yes," Ron whispered back. "But, in the long term, who does it help?"

"Not the Slytherins," Hermione replied slowly.

"Exactly," Ron said, speaking more to himself. "Everyone in this school hates us, and given what's been happening out there; it won't be long before Slytherin is Undesirable Number One, again. Professor Snape, despite being the Head of Slytherin, doesn't understand that he's hurting us by being a prick to the other students."

Ron then drew in a deep breath, shaking his head to himself.

"That, or, he does understand, but simply doesn't care enough to act like an adult," Ron sighed out, still stirring the cauldron. "Either way, it's got to stop, don't you think?"

Hermione nodded slowly; she still wasn't sure what Ron would say to change Professor Snape's decision. From what Hermione had heard, Professor Snape had somehow maintained his nasty streak from the day he had been hired as a Professor by Dumbledore. I doubt Professor Snape will change just because Ron asks him to, he's been picking on students since before Ron could even speak.

"Just… Don't get me into trouble alongside you," Hermione said, studying Ron again. He's so hard to read… We were having an argument not even five minutes ago, and now, he's off to fight Professor Snape because he docked a handful of House-Points from me. A Gryffindor.

"About before…" Ron said, cutting into her thoughts. "I didn't mean to be rude, sorry… I… I really don't want to talk about my life, Hermione, nor do I want you to tell me that it's normal to feel so… shit… all the time. I know it's not normal to feel this way; I wasn't always like this, you know?" Oh…

Ron seemed to remember something, as he stopped stirring and just stared blankly at the changing poison. Ron?

"I was happy once, I think," Ron whispered to himself, staring at his own distorted reflection in the Weedosoros Poison. "Just don't remember what that feels like, anymore."

If Hermione had the ability to hear her own heart break into tiny pieces, this moment would have been a good time to cover her ears. Depression doesn't just happen out of the blue, right? God, how long has he been like this? Do I even know this person? I keep saying that he's the first friend I ever made, but I really don't know a thing about him, do I?

They both became silent after that, with Hermione feeling horrible for him once again while he pretended that her sorry looks weren't aimed at him. Eventually, Ron called over Professor Snape, who took over the cauldron due to the Weedosoros Poison entering its final, and most dangerous, stage.

Hermione and Ron packed up their workstation in continued silence, and Hermione couldn't help but notice the subtle glances Ron was shooting at Professor Snape's back. Is he really going to talk to him after the Potions Club? He can't be serious…

"Put the remaining ingredients into my store," Professor Snape suddenly said, though his focus never left the poison. "You two are excused early, today. Do not disturb the others on your way out."

"I need to speak to you, Sir," Ron said, causing Hermione heart to jump into her throat. He's really going to do it!

"After dinner," Professor Snape said. "Do not disturb me, go."

"After dinner, then," Ron said, waving his hand nonchalantly and making all the ingredient jars on the bench float up into the air.

Hermione's jaw dropped instantly, how had he done that so effortlessly?! His Wandless Magic is improving every day, whereas I haven't even started working on mine yet… I just have to finish my assignments, first. I can still catch up.

Ron didn't wait around for her, heading straight for Professor Snape's storeroom with a line of floating jars chasing after him. Oh, who am I kidding? I'll never get through all those assignments early, and even if I do, I'll have more to do next week.

"Miss. Granger, is there a particular reason why we're still breathing the same air?" Professor Snape asked harshly, making Hermione jump a little.

"Sorry, Professor," Hermione apologized quickly, grabbing her textbooks and shoving them into her bag. God, that's heavy…

Awkwardly, and with a bit of struggle, Hermione made her way out of the Potions Classroom. Cedric Diggory was kind enough to wave at her, which made her feel a little better about herself, but the moment she stepped outside, she found herself feeling rather lost for direction. Usually, I'd just go to the Library from here, but today… Should I really just leave without saying goodbye to Ron? He looked so sad just before. I should at least try and say something to make him feel better, right?

"Waiting for me?" Ron asked from behind her.

Hermione quickly turned on her heels, watching Ron close the door behind himself with a flick of his hand. His books are floating behind him as well. Does he use Wandless Magic for everything, now? Hermione pushed down her competitiveness, even she knew how pathetic it was to be envious of someone in Ron's shoes.

"Hermione? What's the matter?" Ron asked. "You're just staring at me."

"Sorry," Hermione apologized without thinking, looking away from him. "Um… Do you want to walk together?"

"I'd like that," Ron smiled a bit. Really?

He led the way, no doubt heading towards the Slytherin common room, while Hermione walked a foot's distance behind him. What should I say, though? I don't really know how to cheer him up… I was trying to be supportive during Potions Club, but I think I just hit a nerve over and over again. Ron suddenly stopped walking, and Hermione ran straight into his back. Ow, my nose!

"Ron?" Hermione frowned a bit, massaging her sore nose. "Why'd you just stop? That hurt."

"Sorry…" Ron wobbled in his spot a little, while his textbooks plopped onto the ground unceremoniously. "I… I feel lightheaded…" What?!

A jolt of panic shot throughout her body, what were the odds that Ron's brain was acting up now of all times? What should I do? Should I take him to Madam Pomfrey?

"Let's go to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione started, dropping her book bag and grabbing onto Ron's arm in order to steady him.

He swayed a little more, his gloved fingers digging into his forehead; leaving behind angry marks wherever they pressed.

"I'm okay," Ron breathed out, his body tensing a little. "You can let go, Hermione, I won't fall over."

She didn't really want to let go of him, but she also didn't want to keep holding onto him in case that upset him. I don't even know how to act around him, anymore… I should be taking him to Madam Pomfrey, but here I am… Ignoring a potential red-flag.

"Ron, are you sure that you're all right?" Hermione asked worriedly. "Do you feel lightheaded often?"

"It's just been a long day…" Ron limped towards the nearest wall, leaning against it and panting for air. He's sweating? Even though it's freezing down here?

"Do you want to talk about it?" Hermione asked, trying her best to sound casual.

Ron turned his head and looked her over, his eyes drooping a little before he shook his head clear. His skin looked very sallow and sweaty, now that she was staring right at him. It's his neat appearance that makes him look normal, but if his hair wasn't combed and his clothes weren't pressed; he'd look horrible.

"There's not much to talk about, really," Ron pushed himself off of the wall, trying to find his balance.

"You don't want to talk to me?" Hermione asked, unable to hide how his overreaction to her earlier support had wounded her. I thought things were becoming stable with us, again. He even tried to help me reconcile with Ginny during Christmas-

"Hermione," Ron whispered, giving her a sorry look. "It's not like that… It's just that… you're being different… Around me."

"Oh…" Hermione muttered.

"Yes, Hermione, you've looked constipated for the last hour," Ron elaborated. Constipated? You can't say that to a girl! "It's okay, I'm not upset about it. Everyone's been acting off from the moment I came back. People are being… nicer…" What's wrong with that?

"You don't like it when people are nice to you?" Hermione asked slowly, feeling confused again.

"They're not being nice, though," Ron said. "They just feel sorry for me, that's all."

"Well, can you really blame them?" Hermione asked, and Ron immediately look bothered. "Ron, we've all read the papers, we know about…" she trailed off. Of course, everyone feels bad for you. None of us want to see our schoolmate die before even graduating, regardless of which House he's from-

"I don't enjoy false kindness," Ron all but whispered, waving his hand and summoning his books to his side.

Hermione's heavy bag also floated up behind her, bumping into her until she threaded her right arm through the straps.

"Thanks," Hermione said, fixing the strap into place.

"Why don't you just make that bag follow you around?" Ron asked. I… don't really know. "It felt pretty heavy just then. You'll end up hurting your back, Hermione." He must've used the Levitation Charm instead of the Locomotor Charm on my bag. Strange, his books are floating by his side as if he used the Locomotor Charm on them, though…

"Did you just Wandlessly cast two Non-Verbal Charms?" Hermione asked, making Ron blink. No way, that's really complicated Magic-

"I guess, I did," Ron replied, sounding quite surprised with himself. Why does he look as shocked as I am? He doesn't even realize that he's constantly using Wandless Magic for everything? He even summoned his quill during Study of Ancient Runes, despite the fact that it was sitting right in front of him.

"I should probably go…" Hermione muttered, vowing to do at least one hour of Wandless Magic training before sleeping tonight.

"Wait, I actually wanted to ask you something," Ron stopped her.

"Really? Go ahead," Hermione said, trying to keep her voice even. Two Non-Verbal Charms in one motion… This is not something they teach at Hogwarts, he learned this all on his own. Maybe, I should ask for his help? No… I can't do that. He's probably got a million things on his mind, the last thing he needs is me adding-

"Are you listening?" Ron waved in her face. "Merlin, Hermione, where are you today?"

"Sorry… Just stressed from my classes…" Hermione answered, scolding herself internally. "What did you want to ask me, Ron?"

"Did you really help Luna?" Ron asked, taking her by surprise.

"Well, sort of…" Hermione replied, giving Ron a curious look. "How did you hear about that?"

"Luna told me," Ron replied. "She said that you gave her your spare school shoes after… she lost hers." You mean, after those horrible girls brought Luna to tears?

"Oh, I did," Hermione nodded, she would've done it for anyone who needed them more than her.

Ron studied her expression, and then, he tried his best to give her a proper smile.

"Thank you," Ron said, truly meaning it. "You and Harry helping Luna like that, it means a lot to me. Thanks."

Hermione felt her face flush, and she awkwardly shifted in her spot. He hasn't looked at me like that since first year, I think. When we were actually friends.

"It was nothing, really," Hermione all but whispered. "Anyone else would've done the same."

"No, they wouldn't have," Ron said. "But you did, because you're a good lass."

"Um… Thanks," Hermione's face was fully red by now; she was sure of it.

Maybe she wasn't exactly over her crush on Ron yet; why else would she be feeling so hot under the collar from a simple smile? He's a better person than most, and compared to the boys at this school, it's hard not to gravitate towards him… I… I shouldn't, though. He's still dating Greengrass, isn't he? I don't want to bring more problems to his doorstep-

"I have to go back to Slytherin, now," Ron said, looking down the hallway. "But I owe you one, for Luna. If you ever need anything, let me know, eh?"

"Sure, Ron," Hermione said, not knowing what else to say. I could ask him for some pointers in Wandless Magic, couldn't I? He's a Slytherin; he'd understand my desire to become a better witch, unlike most of my House-mates. Should I ask him? I don't want to burden him any further, but a couple of pointers would only take a couple of minutes-

"You're chewing on your bottom lip, again," Ron said, breaking her out of her thoughts. "Does it taste that good?"

"Old habit," Hermione giggled nervously. "My dad is always going off about it." Just go for it, Hermione. It's just a bit of help, and you need it… You really need it. "Actually, Ron… Can I ask for something?"

"Of course," Ron smiled. "Whatever you need." See? Whatever I need. There's no guilt in this, Hermione. Harry's getting lessons from Professor Remus, while Neville will never have to work a day in his life. I'm the only one of my friends who won't inherit a fortune, the only one who'll actually need a steady job after Hogwarts. Plus, Ron is offering to help me because I helped his sister.

"I want to start learning Wandless Magic, properly," Hermione started, surprising Ron a little. "I've read three books on it, but none of them really explained where to start. Could you… help me… sometime? Only if you're free, of course. I'd hate to impose-"

"You really want to learn Wandless Magic?" Ron took a step forward, an excited glint in his eyes. Um… What's happening here? "Are you sure? It's not easy, Hermione. You'll have sore bones, aching muscles, and sometimes, you'll even get hurt by your own Magic-"

"I know how dangerous it is," Hermione said quickly, getting a bit excited herself. "Remember when you blew a hole into Hogwarts? I heard the explosion all the way down in the Library!"

"Ah, that was brilliant," Ron remembered fondly. "Almost killed my friends, but still brilliant."

Hermione laughed again, that had been such a hectic day. The Professors and ghosts were all running around Hogwarts, searching for whoever had 'attacked' the castle. Even Professor Dumbledore was in a bit of a panic.

"So?" Hermione asked eventually. "Will you teach me? It doesn't have to be much, Ron, just-"

"I'll teach you!" Ron nodded excitedly. Really?! Just like that?! "When are you free? What about this weekend? We can practise for a couple of hours every Saturday and Sunday, if you want." A couple of hours?! Every Saturday and Sunday?! He wants to become a full-time mentor for me?!

Hermione was left gobsmacked by his offer, and especially his excitement. Seriously, though, why does he sound more excited about him training me than I do? He's so weird… And that's coming from me!

"Can we do Sundays?" Hermione asked, and Ron immediately nodded once again. "I usually reserve my Saturdays for the Library."

"Sure, if that works for you," Ron beamed. "Meet me before lunch? At the Black Lake? We'll go over the basics, and then, I'll try and show you all the tricks I've picked up along the way."

A wide, grateful smile took over Hermione's face, revealing her perfectly even pearly-whites. She didn't smile that often these days, mostly due to her heavy workload, but whenever she did, she instinctively showed off her perfect teeth.

"Thanks, Ron! You're the best!" Hermione wanted to do a little dance; she was definitely glad that she had asked for his help. I wonder why he's so excited to help me, though? Considering that I'm in Gryffindor, and the Ranked Duelling Tournaments are bound to start soon now that the Headmaster has returned; helping me directly hurts his House-mates' chances of winning the C Ranked Tournament.

"No, good on you for wanting to improve," Ron smiled his 'golden smile', the one he only handed out when he was truly pleased. "Bloody hell, what I wouldn't give to see my fellow Slytherins act a little more like you."

Hermione felt very satisfied to hear that, it was refreshing to be commended on hard work for a change, instead of just being labelled a 'know-it-all' by her envious peers.

"Well, if I were in Slytherin, I'd always be picking at that brain of yours," Hermione said, making Ron chuckle. "Sunday, before lunch, I'm already so excited! What are you going to teach me first?! Can you show me how to cast a Wandless Locomotor Charm?! It's not a very complex Spell, I think I can Master it-"

"We'll start by creating an exercise regime for you," Ron said calmingly, pleased with her enthusiasm.

"Exercise?" Hermione muttered, losing some of her steam.

"Yes, Wandless Magic requires a powerful body," Ron told her, giving her right arm a squeeze. "Too soft, weak. You won't be able cast anything until we harden you up a little. How would you like to face the P-12 Auror Trainer, again?"

Hermione stomach dropped immediately; she didn't want to run into that wooden menace ever again. But look at how powerful Ron's become over the last two years, while I'm just… slightly above average… Hermione drew in a sharp breath, steeling her resolve. I'm doing this. I have to prove that I deserve to be here, that I'm a proper witch! Regardless of my heritage!

"I'll be in your care, then," Hermione forced out, pushing down her fear of failure. "Just… I'm not really fit… So-"

"Hermione, that's fine," Ron smiled encouragingly. "You have to work hard to be able to use Wandless Magic, and I know it's really daunting sometimes, but trust me; I know you can do it. We'll be in it together, I promise. Every step of the way." Together? Exercise doesn't sound so bad, anymore, but the P-12… I'm sure Ron will keep it in check. Let's do this, Hermione! Let's start learning Wandless Magic, at last!

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Tuesday 23rd February, 1994 (The Dungeons – Nearly Six pm)

"Bye, Ron!" Hermione waved from the stairs; her bright smile still stuck in place.

"See you at dinner," Ron waved back, waiting until she turned around and began heading up the stairs.

With her no longer watching, Ron could finally get rid of his idiotic smile. Merlin, that was getting bothersome, my bloody face hurts. It had been a long day, with Ron slowly adjusting to the stares and whispers of his schoolmates. His siblings were right; Ron had become a goddamn celebrity once again, and this time, even the Gryffindors seemed to be pleased with his work. Cormac bloody McLaggen gave me a nod at lunch today, that's how bad this is. Fucking eyes all over the place, I doubt I could even take a shit without Lavender and Parvati finding out.

Ron turned his head and cracked his neck, using his Occlumency to suppress his fear of being watched constantly. I will be careful and patient, I will not make any mistakes right now. I must keep up appearances, without letting anyone into my confidence. This includes my friends; I can't trust them to do the right thing, anymore. I can only rely on myself; I have to remember this lesson. I have to burn it into my memory, if that's what it takes.

Ron began heading towards his common room; at least, the day had not been completely awful.

His siblings seemed genuinely interested in his good works, at long last, and their kind words had eased Ron's troubled mind, even if he doubted the sincerity behind said words. He had only told them of his work with Priscilla, and even then, he had left out most of the details. The last thing he needed was his siblings hearing something that they shouldn't have. Still, it did feel really nice to see them all smiling so much, and knowing that I put those smiles on their faces feels even better-

Ron shook his head clear, what the fuck was he thinking? Distractions…It was good that his siblings had finally told him that they were proud of him, but sadly, it was too little and too late. He no longer cared enough for their approval to seek it, nor did he particularly care about their opinions of him. It had felt good in the moment, but now, he was just glad that they weren't annoying him with their constant nagging. Stay focused, at all times. No more distractions.

"Open," Ron hissed at the entrance, and it slid aside without delay.

Ron stepped into his common room, his pale eyes traveling from corner to corner. He spotted his friends sitting by the fire, while Crabbe and Goyle were sitting by themselves on table not far from Flint's lot. They're studying? On their own? Wouldn't their older mates have all the answers they need? Ron looked towards Flint; the troll-like wizard was glaring back at him. Never mind, Crabbe and Goyle are geniuses for not asking Flint's help with their homework.

"Ron, you're here," came Pansy's voice, she and Daphne had made their way over to him while he had been staring at Crabbe and Goyle. "Can we talk to you before training starts? Please?"

"Of course, Pans," Ron replied, keeping his voice as gentle as possible.

It was the right decision, because Pansy relaxed a little and gave him a weak smile.

"Can I… Um…?" Pansy shot a look towards Daphne. What is it?

"Ron, Pansy doesn't feel up to training, today," Daphne said, keeping her voice clear and confident. Of course, here we go with the excuses. Again.

Ron found himself missing Hermione, especially her desire to constantly keep improving herself. He may have faked a couple of smiles for her sake, but her enthusiasm had genuinely pleased Ron. She's Harry Potter's best friend, and she's a Muggle-Born. If I can teach her even one trick that could potentially save her life one day, it'll be worth it.

"You don't feel up to training?" Ron asked Pansy directly. "Is it because of your father?"

"Her mother is also missing, Ron," Daphne reminded him. And she'll remain missing, I'm afraid. Forever.

"Pansy, it's very important that you at least come to training," Ron tried, keeping his calm. "I just gave a speech about no one being exempt from the rules, so I can't just excuse you. Just come down, throw a few stunners around, and pretend like you're training. Please? I need this House united, and that won't happen if I show favouritism and start excusing you lot from mandatory training."

"Okay, I can do that," Pansy sounded far too relieved for Ron's liking. Whatever… All I can do is try, right? I'm done offering my help to those who don't want it.

"Thank you, Pans," Ron put on another smile. "Let's go grab the others-"

"Actually, can I speak to you, first?" Daphne asked. "Privately, Ron."

"Is it important?" Ron asked. I'm already behind schedule here.

"Yes," Daphne replied, looking towards Pansy. "Pans?"

"Oh, right," Pansy nodded. "Thanks again, Ron. I'll be convincing, I promise." I'd rather that you take this seriously, but it is what it is, eh?

Pansy left at that, heading back to the group in order to let them know that it was time to train. Meanwhile, Daphne began heading towards the exit, waiting for Ron right before the exit. With one last look at Crabbe and Goyle, Ron followed Daphne outside.

The moment the entrance slid shut behind him, Daphne let out a long breath of exhaustion.

"How are you, Ron?" Daphne asked, surprisingly not upset with him. I thought she was about to sass me over Crabbe and Goyle. She still might, actually. Daphne's not the sort of person who forgets things easily.

"I'm fine," Ron replied, but she didn't believe him.

Instead, she slowly reached up to his face, running her thumbs gently across the bags under his eyes. Ron tensed up at first, but eventually, he couldn't help but relax. That feels very soothing, actually.

"Did you even sleep last night?" Daphne asked worriedly, and Ron shook his head. "Ron… Why? You look so sick right now."

"I tried to sleep, but…" Ron started, stopping himself before mentioning Zolly's gruesome end. Just be better next time, all right? Just be better, for fuck's sake! Before everyone gets killed because of you!

"But?" Daphne whispered.

"Trace…" Ron muttered, not exactly lying.

Her life was now hanging by a thread, and Ron was the one holding said thread. He couldn't fail her, he wouldn't. There was so much on his plate, and for the first time in his life, Ron couldn't bring himself to eat.

"I understand," Daphne said, her features softening even more. "Theo and Blaise told us that you're not going be staying in Slytherin, is that really true?"

"Yes," Ron replied.

"Why?" Daphne asked immediately. "Ron, you can't just live out of the Sanctuary, it's impractical."

"Hardly," Ron said, taking a step back.

Daphne moved her hands back to her side, her posture immaculate as always.

"Talk to me?" Daphne tried. "Tell me why you don't want to live with the rest of us."

"I… I just can't," Ron replied. I hate being surrounded like this; I can't constantly watch my back. It pisses me off.

"Try again, please," Daphne urged, hoping to get through to him. "Is it because of Millie?"

"No," Ron shut that idea down immediately. "My decision has absolutely nothing to do with her, whatsoever."

Daphne just kept staring at him, which vexed him slightly. What does she want from me?

"Daphne, is there a reason why I'm standing out here instead of teaching you lot how to defend yourselves?" Ron asked, frustration lacing his voice.

"Actually, that's what I really wanted to talk about," Daphne started. Shit! "Crabbe and Goyle-"

"I will not hear any more on this," Ron stopped her. "Daphne, they are joining us, and that's that."

Daphne drew in a sharp breath, her lips twitching towards a frown.

"You're being unreasonable, Ron," Daphne said, not backing down. "Those two are going to cause us all problems, I guarantee it. They just lost their fathers, who they loved above all others. They're angry and hurt, that makes them dangerous, doesn't it?"

Once again, Ron felt a pang of guilt, but he smothered any ill feelings he had with Occlumency. I will not be deterred so easily. Control, Ron. Remain in control, just as Professor Snape taught you. You killed Death-Eaters, not people.

"They did just lose their fathers," Ron nodded. "Which is why I want to approach them, now."

"Are you going to elaborate on that?" Daphne asked. Fine.

"The Dark Lord has no doubt learned of their fathers' deaths," Ron explained. "How long until he decides that he needs another duo named Crabbe and Goyle, eh? A year? Less? More? We have no way of knowing when he will approach them, if he hasn't already. I have to get to them first, and show them that they don't need to bow to that psychopath. I can save them, Daph… I can save them from the Dark Lord's madness. He'll get them both killed, don't you care about that? They're still our House-mates, aren't they?"

Daphne said nothing in response, but he knew her well enough to know that she understood his reasoning.

"They hurt you, Ron…" Daphne said eventually, her voice too cold for Ron's liking. "They could've killed you. I won't forgive them for that. Never."

"You don't have to," Ron said. "Because I already have."

"Why?" Daphne had to ask.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked.

"Why can you forgive them, but when it comes to your actual friend; you can't even look in her direction?" Daphne asked, stunning Ron a bit.

"So, this really is about Millicent, then?" Ron asked, feeling the urge to just leave.

"Ron, please," Daphne took a step forward, reaching for his gloved hand.

Ron pulled his hand back, not letting her touch him again.

"Ron…" Daphne muttered, her hurt unmistakable.

"I haven't said a fucking thing to her," Ron all but snarled. "I don't know what you're even on about. I have been nothing less than merciful towards her-"

"Merciful?" Daphne blinked. "Do you even hear yourself? You are not a God, Ron." We're close!

Ron turned his head and cracked his neck once again, causing Daphne to go dead silent immediately. She knew what usually followed after the sound of Ron's neck cracking, and it wasn't pretty…

"She chose slavery over freedom," Ron whispered dangerously. "I gave her facts, and she made her choice."

"Her parents-"

"If my parents were slavers, they'd be in Azkaban by now; I would have thrown them in there myself," Ron promised Daphne, causing all the blood in her face to leave. "Let's be honest, here, Daphne. Sooner or later, Millicent was always going to have to choose between her Family and life, because let's face it, her parents are fighting for death and destruction. She chose to remain loyal to them, plain and simple. My timing wasn't ideal, sure, but regardless, she still chose to protect slavers."

Ron then took a step forward, and another, and another; until Daphne's back was pressed against the wall.

"I haven't said a damn thing to her since I arrived, so what's this really about?" Ron asked. "You want me to just pat her on the back, tell her it's fine that she nearly fucked everything up for the Werewolves? I'm not going to do that, Daphne. She needs to live with her choices, just like the rest of us."

"The Ministry was always going to come for them, Ron…" Daphne said, failing to regain her composure.

Why was he so damn tall?!

"Yes, but not while I was in the middle of setting everything up," Ron hissed. "Do you have any idea what her stunt did to me?! I nearly lost the respect of my alliance! I had to beat the piss out of Lord Fawley's eldest son and his entire band of House-Elves just to regain my position! I did not enjoy hurting them, especially because I was forced to be brutal towards good people thanks to Millicent fucking Bulstrode! You have no fucking clue how lucky she is, Daphne! I could snap her spine with one hand, if I wanted to!"

Ron suddenly drew in a sharp breath, taking a step back as his own thoughts jarred him. Control… Control, you fucking idiot! Ron shut his eyes and clenched his fists, forcing his hurt over Millicent choosing her parents over him further down. I am in control! Ron drew in another deep breath, repeating his mantra in his head.

"I'm sorry…" Ron eventually opened his eyes, studying Daphne's frightened features. No…

Ron's legs moved on their own, taking steps backwards until his own back hit a wall. He didn't really feel the impact, the Pain-Relief Potion was still numbing his body against any form of pain. They both stood opposite each other, with Ron regretting his loss of control, while Daphne struggled to regain herself.

He had nearly shown her who he truly was, and that alone had left her trembling. You're a cunt, Ron. The worst fucking sort.

"How could she choose slavers over me, Daphne?" Ron asked, sliding down the wall until his arse was planted on the ground. "Fucking slavers, who also happen to be Death-Eaters…" Am I that worthless?

Daphne said nothing, wiping at her eyes in order to hide how terrified she had felt of Ron just then. He had never intimidated her like this before, a fact they were both very much aware of. I've lost it, haven't I? I shouldn't be here… Ron's head dropped down in resignation, why was he even trying anymore? Because there is no other path, it's literally do or die for me.

"I'm sorry," Ron apologized again, slowly dragging himself up to his feet. Get up, and stop being a whiny little bitch. You have work to do, don't you?

"I'm on your side, you prat," Daphne snapped, sniffling right after. "I just want us to sit down and talk this out, but you're so… You're…" Daphne began shaking with rage, making Ron tense up a little. "You just don't care about anyone's else opinion, do you? You don't care about their circumstances, you don't care about their upbringing, you don't care about their loved ones, you don't care for any 'excuses'… Pansy just got orphaned, but you care more about looking strong in front of the Slytherins than you do about her wellbeing!" What the fuck…?

"That's not fair…" Ron said, feeling gutted by her words. "Daph… I'm not… I'm nothing like that. Pansy has more reason to train than most, she's Lady Parkinson, now. You think the Dark Lord will let her fortune go to waste? She's on his fucking list, now! Why don't you understand that?! I want to protect her!"

Daphne stilled for a moment, but she quickly returned to glaring at Ron through her teary eyes.

"Millie made one mistake," Daphne hissed. "One bloody mistake, Ron! From the day she met you, she's always had your back! But, now, she was put in an impossible situation out of the blue, by you, I might add, and she did what she thought was best! She regrets it, by the way! She's so miserable, why can't you see that?! She needs you to speak to her, not me!"

"Because it's not an impossible situation!" Ron snapped back, frustration taking over. "Doing the right thing is not impossible! Everything you just said is a fucking excuse you're giving her for making a shitty decision! Why are you defending her so adamantly?!"

"I would do the same for you!" Daphne yelled. "I stand by my friends!"

"And I don't?!" Ron demanded. "You people have everything you could dream of in Slytherin because of me! Power, delegate status, a fucking spot to call your own! You're third years who order seventh years around! What else do you fucking want from me?!"

"Oh, boohoo," Daphne rolled her eyes, sending a jolt of rage throughout Ron's body. "You act like you got here all on your own, Ron! I had to teach you how to eat, remember?! I had to teach you how to greet my father, who is the only reason why you're even famous! He made you who you are, and it was all thanks to me!" He helped, no doubt about that, but I worked my fucking arse off to get here! Don't you dare take that away from me! It's the only thing I have left!

"Oh, sod off," Ron scoffed. "Compared to what I've done for you lot, your contributions are nothing!"

Daphne flinched at that, her lips trembling while her eyes barely held back her tears.

"Thank you, Daphne," Ron spat out. "For ruining my fucking day even more. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Daphne matched his tone.

"I'm definitely glad we broke up, now," Ron said, leaving without hesitation. So fucking greedy. Has everything she could possibly want, and still wants more from me. They're all the fucking same! Goddamn leeches!

By the time he reached the entrance, he was quite literally shaking with rage. I have to hurt something, really fucking badly!

"Open," Ron ordered, but the entrance refused to move. "OPEN!"

Again, nothing…

"YOU FUCK!" Ron shrieked, punching the entrance as hard he could with his left hand.

There was a sickening crunch, but there was no pain. So, Ron punched the wall again, and again, and again; hoping to get some of his anger out, but it refused to leave him this time. It clung to him like a disease, sending him over the edge.

"I've done everything for you!" Ron kept punching the wall, breaking his own hands in the process. "But I'm always in the wrong, huh?! I'm the fucking problem, even if your cunt parents are selling other human beings into fucking slavery! Do you have any idea how many lives you nearly destroyed?!"

Blood splattered onto his face from his broken knuckles, and Ron ended his punching spree by smashing his own skull against the entrance. Everything became blurry almost immediately, and although there was no pain; Ron knew with absolute certainty that he had rattled his fucking brain. Lethargically, Ron wiped the blood running down his face, feeling utterly spent.

"Sweet Merlin," came his own twisted voice, and Ron slowly turned around to see his counterpart eyeballing him with a vicious smirk. "This would be more therapeutic if that fat tart was your punching bag, don't you think?" Fat tart?

Something just snapped in Ron, it was time for his past self to die. Once and for all.

"Don't fucking call her fat," Ron hissed, his claws slowly revealing themselves on his mangled fingers. "You. Motherfucking. Cunt."

"Woah, relax," Ravenclaw Ron took a step back, but Ron kept approaching. "I'm on your side! Oi! What the fuck?!"

Ron swung for his counterpart's face, hoping to split Ravenclaw Ron's head in two; but the slippery bastard disappeared right before Ron could end him. Little parasite, go back to lurking in the shadows! Still shaking with rage, Ron sheathed his claws and grit his teeth. He could hear Daphne's footsteps approaching him; she was just around the corner by now. I'm done. I'm done with these people. I will train them and keep them united, but beyond that, I'm just fucking done.

The moment she came into view, Ron's eyes were immediately fixed on her. She was crying, no doubt because of their fight, but when she saw him, she stopped abruptly.

"What are you still doing out-?" Daphne started, wiping at her eyes, but when she saw the state of him, her words transformed into an ear-splitting scream. Brilliant…

---

Albus Dumbledore's POV

Wednesday 24th February, 1994 (Hospital Wing – Evening)

Albus moved past the large doors leading into the Hospital Wing, sealing the doors behind him with a wave of his hand.

Severus had sent an Elf to fetch Albus, though the Elf had not explained the reason behind Severus' sudden summons. Is it one of the Slytherin students? Is one of them hurt? Albus couldn't help but wonder if it was Ronald; the boy had a habit of landing himself in the Hospital Wing at least three times a month.

Thankfully, there were only a couple of students within the Hospital Wing, and they were both sleeping quietly in their beds. Odd, it's almost as if Poppy isn't taking in any students. The Hospital Wing is never this empty.

Albus approached the only bed that had its curtains drawn, however, before he could reach it, Poppy came out of her storeroom and called out to him.

"Headmaster, may I have a word?" Poppy asked, almost whispered.

"Severus sent an Elf to fetch me," Albus told her, making his way over. "Though, he did not bother to send a message-"

"He doesn't want anyone to know," Poppy cut in, shooting a quick look towards the curtained bed. "Albus, it's Ron…" I was right, then. He has hurt himself again, most likely practising Magic beyond his skill.

"And what Spell landed Mr. Weasley in your care this time, Poppy?" Albus chuckled, but Poppy looked anything but merry. "Poppy? What has happened?"

"Come with me," Poppy sighed out, leading the way towards her office.

Albus looked towards the curtained bed once again, his gut tightening slightly. Something was horribly wrong, he could almost sense it, now. Albus closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel the Magic within the room, a decision he immediately regretted as a wave of terrifying power nearly froze his blood in his veins. By the Gods, what is this Magic…?

It was coming from behind the curtained bed; an endless sense of rage and destruction. Ronald…

Albus drew in a deep breath, closing his mind to the Magic around him. I've only felt this power once in my life before; the day the Entity trapped me within Ronald's mind.

"Albus?" Poppy called. She hasn't sensed it, yet?

Albus turned around and headed straight for her office, he needed an explanation at once. However, before I discover what is going on, I must regain myself.

"Please, me what has happened, Poppy," Albus requested, regaining control over his emotions.

"He… I don't know, Albus," Poppy said, shaking her head. "Something set him off, but the one who brought him here won't tell me a thing."

"Severus?" Albus asked.

"And Daphne Greengrass," Poppy replied. "She found Ron and took him to Severus, who then brought them both up here in secret in order to avoid creating a scene."

"Miss. Greengrass is inside?" Albus asked.

"With Severus," Poppy replied, opening the door and heading inside.

Albus followed without delay, finding a sobbing Daphne Greengrass on the couch. Severus was sitting across from her, his expression ice-cold.

"You're here," Severus said, keeping his eye on Daphne. "Miss. Greengrass, tell the Headmaster what you just told me."

Daphne wiped at her eyes, her body trembling from her sobs. Poppy moved over to her side, putting her arm around the girl and whispering words of comfort in her ear. Albus waited patiently, wondering what could've set Daphne off like this. And how did Ronald get hurt? What is going on here?

"We… We had a fight," Daphne suddenly spoke, while Poppy rubbed her back. "We've never fought like that… before…"

"What did you fight about?" Albus asked, and Daphne shot an indecisive look towards Severus.

"It's all right, you can tell him," Severus said almost gently, visibly surprising Poppy. He cares for his charges, even if he can't admit it to himself. However, now is not the time to be pleased with Severus' progress. I must look to Ronald; he needs guidance more than anyone else.

Albus looked to Daphne, waiting patiently once again.

"It's Millie…" Daphne started, deciding to trust the assurance of her Head of House. "Our friend…"

---

Twenty Minutes Later

Albus stroked his beard, carefully analysing the information Daphne had shared with him. Ronald had the Bulstrodes by their throats, but he made the mistake of sharing information with his friend… Ronald, you poor boy. I cannot even imagine how he is taking this, considering everything he's been through over the last few weeks.

Albus wasn't surprised by Millicent Bulstrode's choice; he knew all too well how tempting it was to choose what one had always known over an uncertain future. The girl loved her parents, which was not a crime in Albus' eyes, and as such, he did not hold her decision against her. And yet, her actions have saved two slavers from facing justice. Ronald should have gone to Severus with this in my absence, we could've used this information to force the Bulstrodes into our hands. I'm certain they'd choose the Order's comfortable rooms over Azkaban.

"And that's when I found him," Daphne finished, her voice hoarse and lifeless. "All bloody, snarling as if he were some rabid dog…" I wish she had not seen that side of Ronald, it's very clear to me that she still holds feelings for him. This fight of theirs could further destabilize Ronald's mind.

Albus Wandlessly summoned a glass of pumpkin juice, handing it to the distraught girl.

"Drink this, it will help your throat," Albus said gently, giving her an encouraging smile.

Daphne did as she was told, mumbling a hollow 'thank you' once she was finished.

"Not even one day, Headmaster," Severus suddenly said, his voice as cold as ice. "I told you not to let him come back here, he's not fit to be around other people."

Albus immediately sensed defiance within Daphne, as if she had barely held herself back from defending Ronald. This eased Albus' mind a little, she had a good head on her shoulders. I can see why Ronald adores her; she is a steadfast friend, even in the worst of times.

"It… It was my fault…" Daphne said, surprising the adults. "I said horrible things to him, things I knew would hurt him… Why did I do that?"

"Friends fight, dear girl," Albus said, while Poppy refilled Daphne's glass with a flick of her wand. "However, I can still see your desire to protect him, which truly moves me. I'm certain that Ronald regrets the fight you two had as well, he has always spoken of you in the fondest of ways."

"You two have spoken about me?" Daphne asked, giving Albus reason to pause. She's sharp, mind your words, Albus.

"During our chess matches, I enjoy teasing Ronald in order to distract him from my moves," Albus smiled brightly, while Daphne simply blinked. "I will go and speak with Ronald, now. Poppy, please escort Miss. Greengrass back to Slytherin."

"Albus, before you go," Poppy stood up, moving further towards the door and waiting for him.

Albus and Severus joined her without delay, and once Albus had Silenced the space around them; he gave Poppy the go-ahead.

"He broke both of his hands, Albus," Poppy said, paling a little. "And then, he smashed his own head against a wall. He was a bloody mess when they brought him in-"

"And this isn't even the bizarre part," Severus whispered.

"Albus, he didn't feel a damn thing," Poppy said, surprising Albus. Pardon? "His knuckles were shattered and he had an open-wound on his forehead, and yet; he looked as calm as a millpond."

"He's on the Pain-Relief Potion," Severus told Albus. He is? "I cast a Diagnosis Charm on him, the potion is still in his system."

"A potion I never signed off on," Poppy added. "He got it on his own, and judging by his utter lack of pain; I'm beginning to fear that he has been abusing this potion behind our backs." Overuse of the Pain-Relief Potion results in a loss of all bodily senses; including pleasure, taste, and smell. He might even lose his ability to use his limbs properly. This is very grave news… Why would Ronald need to take this potion in the first place?

Albus stroked his beard again; there was no point in wondering about these things, not when Ronald was so close at hand.

"I will go and speak with him," Albus said, opening the door and heading outside. "Severus, join me, will you?"

"I'll take her back to the Dungeons," Poppy said. "After she's calmed down a little more, of course."

Albus and Severus began making their way towards Ronald's bed, but Albus quickly realized that something was off. He could not sense Ronald's Magic anymore, only remnants of it still remained. He's left?! Albus waved his hand, forcing the curtains to slide apart; revealing an empty bed.

"Damn him," Severus snarled, looking around them. "He ran off."

"Ronald…" Albus let out a tired sigh. "Come, Severus, we must find him at once."

"I know exactly where he went," Severus said, heading towards the exit. "He can't turn himself off, remember?"

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Wednesday 24th February, 1994 (Slytherin Training Area – Evening)

"Again," Ron ordered; his pale eyes fixed on Blaise.

Blaise gave a nod before aiming his wand at the ordinary dummy again, following up with a Non-Verbal stunner that smashed into the dummy's chest, sending it reeling back. He's improved so much. Good. I can always count on Blaise to come through, once he sets his mind to something, that is.

"Brilliant work, Blaise," Ron said, his voice devoid of any emotion.

While Madam Pomfrey, the Headmaster, and Professor Snape were busy discussing Ron's meltdown with Daphne, Ron had quietly left the Hospital Wing behind in order to return to his Sanctuary. There, he had gotten himself a fresh suit, a vial of the Calming Draught, and his old glove. After that, he had asked Marty to launder his bloody school-clothes, truly glad that his Elf hadn't asked too many questions.

By the time Ron had returned to Slytherin, Theo had started the training without him. Theo's initiative pleased Ron, or, it would have if Ron weren't completely numb right now. I'll reward him, and hopefully, he'll keep showing this initiative.

"Crabbe, you're up," Ron said, looking towards Crabbe and Goyle.

Crabbe was glaring murder at Ron, while Goyle was just staring at the sand under his own feet. One looks ready to murder me, while the other looks ready to break down in tears. I have my work cut out for me.

They didn't want to be here, that much was obvious. How do I begin to reach these two? I don't know anything about them. Yet. His eyes darted towards Malfoy for a moment, perhaps the Malfoy Heir had the answers Ron needed?

"Crabbe, I will not ask again," Ron said calmly. "Please, come and take your spot." Before I drag you over here with that disgusting bowl-cut of yours.

The large boy huffed before storming over to where Blaise had been standing, his wand gripped too tightly in his thick left hand. Now that Ron was standing right behind Crabbe, he noticed that Crabbe wasn't exactly overweight. Rather, he looked physically strong, stronger than Ron's friends, at least.

"Stun the dummy," Ron instructed, and Crabbe let out an irked grunt.

"Stupefy!" Crabbed all but yelled, making Pansy jump from fright. Why yell so loudly? It'll only hurt your throat.

The stunner, which was surprisingly powerful, completely missed its target; shattering against the wall on the far side of the room. Crabbe let out another grunt, while Malfoy let out a cold chuckle.

"Shut your mouth," Ron immediately looked at Malfoy, his eyes digging into the pale boy's.

Malfoy didn't need to be told twice; they had all deduced that Ron was now on the Calming Draught once again.

"This is stupid…" Crabbe grit out, kicking the sand at his feet.

"You are in the D Ranked Tournament, Crabbe," Ron said, slowly moving over to Crabbe's side. "And I expect you to honour Slytherin with at least one victory."

"I don't have to do anything you want me to do," Crabbe snarled, turning to lock eyes with Ron.

"That is where you are wrong," Ron said calmly. "Like it or not, Crabbe; we are in the same House, and I am the leader of said House. You will do as you are told, or, you will be shunned by everyone. Even Goyle." Ron then took a step forward. "I will isolate you from everyone, until you are forgotten by everyone. Is that what you want?"

Crabbe, who was too stupid to understand Ron's threat, continued to glare at him. Let's try something different, then.

"However," Ron restarted. "If you give me a chance, I will make you into a truly powerful wizard."

Crabbe's eyes widened a little at that, and his dark expression was overtaken by the promise of power. There it is… He wants Magical might, doesn't he? Well, we're not so different in that regard. I have you, now, Vincent Crabbe.

"Aim your wand at the dummy," Ron instructed, his voice smooth and soft.

Crabbe's eyes darted towards Goyle for a moment, and then, he did as he was instructed.

"Ease your grip on the wand, Crabbe," Ron said. "Remember last year, when you and I worked on this?"

Crabbe grunted; he had clearly put that memory behind him. Once the large boy's grip had eased up, Ron studied the rest of his gorilla-like arm. His wrist is locked up, and so is his elbow. It's no wonder that he missed, there's no grace in him.

"Relax your arm," Ron instructed. "Bend that elbow slightly, and relax your wrist. When casting a stunner, you need to flick your wand upwards. The motion has to come from the wrist, not the entire arm. A simple flick is all it takes, Crabbe."

Crabbe slowly did as Ron had instructed, and when Ron was satisfied with the adjustments, he took a step back.

"This time, don't yell out the incantation," Ron went on, remembering his lessons from Madam Roberts. "Strong emotions are a powerful tool, and for many Spells, they are a requirement. However, for the Stunning Charm, you must control yourself. Aim at the dummy, keep that arm relaxed."

Crabbe continued to follow Ron's instructions.

"Now, before you fire, make sure that the tip of your wand is pointed at where his prick should be," Ron said, and Crabbe shot him a confused glance. "The wand movement, remember? You must flick the wand upwards. Don't worry, by the time your wand releases your Magic, the stunner will go directly for his chest. Are you ready?"

Crabbe gave a nod, focusing hard on where the tip of his wand was aiming.

"Stupefy!" Crabbe chanted less loudly this time, and although the stunner wasn't as bright as before; it nailed the dummy's right shoulder. At least he hit it this time around, that's called progress.

"Well done," Ron put on a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes.

Crabbe looked quite surprised with himself, as he continued to stare at his own wand in awe. Should I build upon this? Would it be too much right now? Well, there's only one way to find out. Why am I worrying over this needlessly?

Merlin, how he had missed this clarity.

"You have talent, Crabbe," Ron whispered, surprising Crabbe with the compliment. "But Flint and his lot just use you as brainless muscle… It's a real shame, because, as you clearly just saw, you're a capable wizard."

Crabbe lowered his wand, walking away from Ron without saying another word. I got to him; I can see it. Ron looked towards his friends, his fake smile still in place. They were all staring at him, surprised that he had gotten through to Crabbe with such little effort. Please, do you have any idea who I'm used to playing against? I could handle Crabbe in my sleep.

"That bloody potion…" Theo sighed out. Is the one thing I've been missing. I know I can't keep taking it, but since I'm already under its influence, I might as well use it to my advantage.

"Goyle, come take your spot," Ron instructed, but he was interrupted by loud chatter coming from the common room. A commotion? Damn, they tracked me down here, didn't they? Oh, well, these things happen. Just deal with it, old boy, and then return to the task at hand.

Just as Ron turned around to face the entrance, he saw Snape limp into view. He wore an expressionless mask on his face, but Ron knew him well enough to know that he was irked by Ron doing a runner. I had work to do, he'll understand. Just don't give him unnecessary lip, Ron. Try to behave.

"Theo, take over while I'm gone," Ron said.

"Sure," Theo agreed all too readily. "Let's break off into pairs. Crabbe… you're with me. Blaise, can you work with Goyle?" He's really trying to impress me, isn't he? It's working, I like this new dedication to improvement very much.

Blaise shot a quick glance at Ron's back.

"Of course," Blaise agreed, while Ron began making his way over to Snape.

Within moments, Ron was standing before the tall wizard.

"You have much explaining to do," Snape said, already frowning at him.

"I wanted to help with the training," Ron said honestly. "I promised everyone I would, and it would reflect poorly on me if I don't show up to the first training session. I had to come back."

"Did anyone see you?" Snape asked.

"No, I used the Disillusionment Charm to remain hidden," Ron assured the Potions Master. "I was careful, no one saw me. I got changed, sent my clothes to be cleaned by some Elf, and then, I came straight here."

Snape looked towards the other third years, his eye narrowing on a certain pair.

"Crabbe and Goyle?" Snape asked. "You are teaching them as well?"

"I've decided to help them," Ron admitted openly. "They're not their parents, not yet, at least."

"How benevolent of you," Snape said, no emotion in his voice.

"I did the same for your godson, didn't I?" Ron asked.

Snape said nothing, silently watching the third years practise their basics. He had to admit one truth to himself; Ron was efficient. Why isn't he saying anything? Didn't we all agree to change Slytherin?

"Why did you hurt yourself, boy?" Snape suddenly asked. "A petty spat is all it took?" It wasn't petty, not to me. We were out to hurt each other; I could feel it. She's just so damn self-assured. What does she know, anyway? She's lived a sheltered life, in a bloody manor no less.

"It's people, Sir," Ron started. "I can't put up with them anymore; they aggravate me constantly. Everyone wants to start something with me, or, they want to snoop into my personal life and dictate how I should behave. I promise that I'll control myself from now on, though. I know what I have to do." I'll come down for the training lessons, I'll hold the necessary meetings, and I'll attend the study group. Beyond that, I'm going to stay put within my Sanctuary. I have become more powerful, but I can't do that if I'm always distracted.

"And what will you do?" Snape asked, looking to Ron. "Isolate yourself?"

"And here I thought my Occlumency was improving," Ron said. "I know what I'm doing, don't bother telling me otherwise."

"I wasn't going to," Snape said, his voice icy as usual. "Come to the Headmaster's Office after dinner, Albus wishes to speak with you."

"We have a lot to talk about," Ron agreed. "After dinner, then."

---

Wednesday 24th February, 1994 (The Great Hall – Dinner)

"Why is Granger smiling and waving at you every five minutes?" Malfoy asked, a displeased frown on his face.

"Oh, she's waving at Ron?" Theo asked, looking disappointed. "Tsk, bugger…"

They all gave Theo curious looks, but he simply shrugged and kept eating his dinner. Okay, moving on… Should I tell them that I agreed to train Hermione? They won't be happy to hear it, especially because the Duelling Tournaments are coming up. Wait… The Tournaments…

It was so simple, why hadn't he thought of it before? They would hate nothing more than to lose to a Gryffindor, right? With all the attention they have on them within Slytherin, they can't afford to lose.

"Hermione and I are on good terms, again," Ron shot a quick smile towards the Gryffindor table. "I've even agreed to train her in Wandless Magic every week, until she's as skilled as I am."

"What?!" Daphne was the first to speak up, her face dropping. I'm going to have to deal with her soon, as well. I should've stayed on the Calming Draught, or better yet, I should have honed my Occlumency even more. I'll ask for Snape's help later, after our talk about what's next.

"This is a joke, isn't it?" Blaise asked coldly, pulling Ron back into the conversation.

"I think he's being serious," Pansy said, not sounding very interested. "Millie, what do you think?" Really? Why are you making her more miserable? She doesn't want to talk near me, so you put her under a spotlight?

Millicent did as Ron had predicted, she shuffled in her spot and kept her eyes on her food. Awkward. I need to bring the conversation back to Hermione-

"Does he look like he's joking?" Malfoy suddenly cut in. "Of course, he's helping her; he can't help but make things harder on the rest of us." Thank you, you whiny bitch.

"Can you lot get off his back?" Theo asked, frowning at the others. "I'm sure Ron won't help her until after the Tournaments, just let him finish first next time." Sorry, Theo.

"No, we're starting on Sunday," Ron was quick to correct Theo.

"You're a proper bastard, Ron," Theo frowned immediately. Really? That quickly? "How am I going to beat her if she's throwing lightning out of her fingertips?"

"Use your lightning feet," Ron shrugged. "I don't care."

"Can you at least tell us why you're doing this?" Daphne demanded; her eyes narrowed.

"She asked for my help," Ron told the truth. "And since I owed her for helping Luna, I agreed."

"Helping Luna with what?" Pansy asked, finally becoming invested in the conversation.

"Gertrude Swans," Ron looked to Pansy. "She was bullying Luna, even managed to bring Luna to tears."

"When did…?" Millicent started, stopping abruptly.

Ron looked to her, waiting for her to finish. Well, go on.

"When did what?" Ron asked, eventually.

"When did it happen…?" Millicent muttered; her expression subdued. I knew that she'd be miserable after reading the truth. I hope her parents realize what they've done to her by being such twisted cunts.

"While I was away," Ron replied. "Harry stepped in first, but the twins ended up Hexing Swans and her friends. You lot probably heard about that, right?"

Ron looked back to Daphne, who looked a little lost for words. We talked about the twins attacking Swans, didn't we?

"Hermione gave Luna her spare school shoes," Ron continued. "Swans threw Luna's pair away, and no one could find them. So, when Hermione asked for help, I agreed. I owe her. Plus, I like people who want to keep improving. You could all learn a thing or two from her, honestly." That should be enough, now I'll just invite them over.

"What happened to securing as many wins as possible?" Malfoy asked. "Can you just make up your damn mind, Weasley?"

"Well, if you don't want her to have an advantage over you," Ron started. "Why don't you lot join us? This way, you'll be even with her."

All of them were quick to realize what Ron was up to, and judging by their looks; they were not pleased in the slightest. Even Pansy looks mildly annoyed, probably on Daphne's behalf. She couldn't care less for the Tournaments; she just wants to 'watch the boys work up a sweat'.

"Everyone is welcome to join," Ron added, turning his head towards Millicent. I think I'll start being nice to her, so she can really regret her decisions. Guilt can go a long way; I know that for certain. She still has to choose where she stands, and I'm not going to relent until she makes the right decision.

"When on Sunday?" Theo suddenly asked.

"Theo," Blaise frowned, shaking his head. "Don't indulge him."

"I'm not losing to Granger, again," Theo said defensively. "What time, Ron? I'll come." Theodore Nott, I'm so proud of you right now.

"Before lunch, we'll sort out an actual time on Friday, during the study group," Ron replied, going back to his dinner. Now, I just have to wait and see who comes.

---

Wednesday 24th February, 1994 (The Headmaster's Office – After Dinner)

"Aren't we going to start?" Ron asked, both wizards were just staring at him.

"Very well," Dumbledore said, his tone pleasant as always. "Why are you on the Pain-Relief Potion, my boy?" How…?

"Did Madam Pomfrey tell you?" Ron asked.

"It was quite obvious," Snape said icily. "Explanation, now." There's no harm in telling them the truth, I've already shown them how much I've changed.

Ron pulled back his right sleeve, displaying his forearm at the centre of the table. Snape and Dumbledore both stood up, inspecting the four fresh scratches on Ron's upper forearm.

"What kind of injury is this?" Snape asked, frowning at Ron.

"I used these," Ron said, showing them his second set of fingernails. "And since then, my arm's been killing me. The potion helps with the pain, I can't even hold a spoon otherwise. Oh, and no matter what I try, I can't heal them. They won't even heal on their own, which is kind of scary."

"Ronald…" Dumbledore sighed out, looking a decade older. "What pushed you to harm yourself?"

"The Entity," Ron replied blandly. "It was tormenting me, and I didn't want to fall asleep, again. I was delirious, I think. Don't remember much from that night aside from stabbing myself."

"Severus, seal all the entrances," Dumbledore instructed, his eyes fixed on Ron's wounds. "I wish to study Ronald's arm-"

"Why?" Ron asked, pulling his arm back.

"To find a cure, my boy," Dumbledore replied.

"What else?" Ron asked, still doubting the man.

"Your new abilities come from the Entity, and I've come to believe that the Entity is not so different from the Higher Beings," Dumbledore elaborated, a slight twinkle in his eyes. "If we study its Magic, we may learn more about the ones who began the Cycles."

"I already have a solution to this problem," Snape said, shooting Dumbledore a quick glance. "I will make Ron some Numbing Balm; he can apply it to a wet bandage and then wrap the soaked bandage around his forearm. The moisture will keep the Numbing Balm active; his forearm will not handicap him." Really?

"Can I please have some Numbing Balm?" Ron asked, he preferred this method. I don't like the thought of the Headmaster studying the Entity's Magic. We shouldn't care about these 'Higher Beings', we have enough problems to deal with already.

"I have some left over in my quarters," Snape said. "You can have it; I will create a fresh batch tomorrow." In his quarters? Oh, he must be using it as well.

"Thanks, I owe you one," Ron said, trying to sound grateful.

"You owe me plenty," Snape said indifferently, sitting back down. "Albus, we should try my method first; it's safer."

"Of course," Dumbledore agreed, sitting down as well. "However, we cannot ignore the injury itself. Ronald's arm is wounded, and we must heal it. The Numbing Balm will be our temporary solution."

"I don't want you studying my arm," Ron said, putting his foot down. "It's evil Magic, plain and simple. I wish it weren't there, and the last thing I want is for it to get worse. The Numbing Balm will do." It's two against one; you better keep your promise.

"Very well," Dumbledore relented. "The offer still stands, but I will respect your wishes." Thank you.

"Can we talk about Fudge, please?" Ron asked, deciding to change the subject. "What is he up to? I've heard nothing about him since my trial."

"The Wizengamot has decided to remove him from his Office," Dumbledore replied, causing both Ron and Snape to breathe a sigh of relief. "However, we have not told him of our decision yet; that will happen on Friday."

"Has the Wizengamot selected Amelia Bones to act as temporary Minister?" Snape asked.

"No, not yet," Dumbledore replied. "I've spoken to a few members, and I praised Amelia wholeheartedly. I believe this is enough, for now. When Cornelius is stripped of his title, Amelia will need to step forward herself. I will personally recommend her myself." That's brilliant, he's done the work already. With his seal of approval, the Wizengamot will definitely consider Madam Bones. I don't think there's anyone better for that job than her.

"I might hold a party in Slytherin when Fudge is ousted," Ron said, he was glad to be done with that mess. "This reminds me, I actually had a chat with Barty Crouch Snr; he told me that the Ministry will never hire me again. But I improvised, and I managed to recommend Clara for a position in his Offices. It's a job she already wants, and having a spy within Crouch's Offices can't hurt."

"Clever thinking," Snape said, giving Ron a nod.

"You should speak with her, Severus," Dumbledore advised. "Ronald-"

"I would just ruin it," Ron admitted. "I told them I was dying before the Daily Prophet could, so I don't think their opinions of me have changed. They've had time to come to terms with it, I guess."

"Despite the tension between you four, you have chosen to keep your word," Dumbledore commended, while Snape frowned at him for letting Ron off easy. "That is most admirable of you, Ronald." He's right, that is admirable of me.

"Could it be that your near murder of Carey Ductu has guilted you into keeping your word?" Snape asked icily, bringing Ron down a peg. "Albus will do something about Carey's plans to join the Wizengamot, while I've already written to St. Mungo's on behalf of Samantha. I recommended her for their Healer Program. The trio will be where we need them to be, but let's not forget that this fool here nearly sent them running-"

"Severus, please," Dumbledore interrupted. "There is no need for this, Ronald understands what he did wrong."

"I'll keep my distance," Ron promised Snape. "They're a part of the Order, now. You two can take care of them, I already fucked up my babysitting duties." Plus, they hate me, and I don't particularly like them. They treated me like a fool, set me to work whenever there was trouble, and got uppity with me when it was time for my reward. They were no different from the Ministry's paper-pushers, thinking they could boss me around. At least dealing with them taught me some basics about dealing with Ministry cunts.

"What else do we need to discuss?" Ron asked, noticing that Snape still didn't look pleased.

"The Carrow Twins' party," Dumbledore replied gravely. "Lord Voldemort is bound to make a move, and soon, if I remember his tactics correctly. I fear time has only made him more vicious, he will strike as close to our hearts as possible." Attacking now would be stupid, though. He has no followers left in Magical Britain. I wiped most of them out, and those who survived are under heavy scrutiny from the press and the Aurors. If I were him, I'd retreat-

"He will not stay here," Snape gave his thoughts. "He needs the Pure-Blood Families, who are now otherwise occupied, dead or alive. He will need new allies, subjects to carry out his will while he comes up with a way to reach Potter. Right now, our only concern should be to keep our eyes on the boy. The Dark Lord will not risk discovery until he has Potter in his clutches." This makes more sense; retreat is the best option for him.

"Where would he go?" Dumbledore asked Snape. "East?"

"Russia," Snape nodded.

"Where he has a Minister in his pocket?" Ron asked. "Who is she, by the way? I know next to nothing about her."

"Minister Samara Ivanov," Dumbledore replied. "She was an avid supporter of Lord Voldemort in her youth, and her many recommendations from Durmstrang took her far within the Russian Ministry, especially for someone so young. At the height of the Great War, she had climbed all the way up to the former Minister's ear. Through her mouth, Lord Voldemort spoke his vile-"

"Why do you have to make it so dramatic?" Ron asked, and Dumbledore blinked. Just tell me if she's willingly helping the Dark Lord, that's all I really care to know about this woman.

"The boy is right, you are dragging this out, and my leg is beginning to hurt," Snape stated bluntly. "She is a loyal to her Master, what else do we need to know?"

"Oh… Well, apologies," Dumbledore chuckled, not looking very sorry. "All you actually need to know about Samara, Ronald, is that she might be under duress." Under duress?

"She is not under duress," Snape frowned. "She is as loyal as they come, Albus. The Dark Lord has known this girl since she was knee-high, she grew up right under his influence." He raised a child, who went on to become the Russian Minister for Magic?! We are so fucked, now.

"He raised her?" Ron asked Snape.

"No, but Russia's Old Families were quite taken with him," Snape replied. "During his travels, before the Great War, when he was still accumulating power; I believe he became good friends with many of these Families. He lived with them, learnt the secrets of their lands and heritage, and even taught those he found particularly useful."

"We need to get rid of this woman, then," Ron said. "If she is as loyal as Professor Snape is saying, then we can't afford to let her be a bloody Minister-"

"She has a son, Ronald," Dumbledore said, stopping Ron short. "A boy, his name is Alexei. I believe Lord Voldemort has threatened his life, which has forced Samara under his heel once again. People do change, and Samara Ivanov is no different." She has a son…

Right now, Ron couldn't have cared less for the boy, but maybe said boy could be used to fix this problem before it escalated? If we take the boy, we'll ask her to come into our custody. She and her boy can live in Sirius' attic for all I care, I just don't want her causing us headaches down the line.

"She has never changed her stance on Muggle-Borns," Snape reminded Dumbledore. "Throughout her career, she has not voted for a single law that benefits them. She is still true to her Master's teachings, don't be fooled by some boy who might not even be in any danger. I know this woman has committed murder for her beliefs; the Inner Circle of the Dark Lord knew about his 'agent in Russia' quite well. She was crucial to the support he garnered within that frozen tundra during the Great War, and if we don't remove her from her Office, she'll hand him the Russian Ministry on a silver platter."

"Ronald?" Dumbledore looked for Ron's opinion.

"I don't know anything about her," Ron started. "But we do know the Dark Lord, so we know he's holding her son over her head. He's a cunt, who always terrorizes people wherever he goes. Moving her son into our custody could be the solution to our problems-"

"That will achieve nothing," Snape interjected. "She knows that we won't harm her son, she might even want us to take him in. It'll allow her to focus solely on serving her Master." Shit, he's not wrong… That could've backfired on us. "She needs to be dealt with, same as any other Death-Eater. We cannot keep taking these risks, Albus-"

"Is it a risk to believe in love, Severus?" Dumbledore asked. "She might not have voted in favour of the Muggle-Borns within Russia, however, since the birth of her son; she has not impeded the Muggle-Borns of her country in any way. Not until he returned to her life, forcing her to do his bidding." The old man is convinced that this woman can be reached, I'm not so sure. People do change, yes, but that change doesn't have to be a good thing. What if she fights even harder than before because of her son? How do we get to her, though? That is the real question here.

"Kidnapping a Minister is not going to be easy," Ron pointed out. "Killing her will be equally as difficult. We should still go for the child, use the boy to lure her out. What do you think? We wouldn't put the kid in any danger, of course; but we could play the part of lowlife crooks out for ransom money, right?"

"That… could work," Dumbledore smiled, a twinkle in his eyes. "Quite bold, isn't it, Severus?"

"Too bold," Snape said disagreeably. "If we kidnap the Russian Minister's only son, the entire Wizarding World would be up in arms."

"Then, we keep it hush-hush," Ron improvised. "Make sure that word of our plot doesn't get out." This is beginning to feel like old times, as if the storm has passed. Shame that things have never been more different between us, and for once, not everything is my fault. We all need to change, improve.

"We could 'threaten' the boy's life if Samara attempts to make his 'kidnapping' public knowledge," Dumbledore refined the idea. "Still, none of this will work unless we find Alexie, first. Magical Russia is too big a country to explore, and I doubt Lord Voldemort will make this easy for us."

"I happen to have a… friend… who's Russian," Ron decided to share. "Maybe he can help us?"

"Your bodyguard?" Albus asked, and Ron gave a nod. "Forgive me for saying this, my boy, but we cannot trust a mercenary. They follow gold, and Lord Voldemort-"

"Artyom is different," Ron interjected. "I can feel it, Headmaster. He cares about people; you should've seen how eager he was to help me with the Carrow Twins-"

"He knows you were involved in that massacre?" Snape hissed.

"Not only that, he was there with me," Ron came clean. "He and I are in this fight together, now, and I know he understands that. He's literally given me no reason to doubt him, and he warded up The Burrow nice and proper on my request."

"The wards around The Burrow are indeed powerful," Dumbledore nodded to himself. "I felt them when I came to visit you. Though, it is a shame that your friend was not available to chat, I would have enjoyed learning more about him."

"I think that's exactly why he wasn't around when you were," Ron shrugged. "Still, I think we could use him in the fight against Minister Samara. If the Dark Lord is indeed planning to hide in Russia, then we need to be there before him. We can't let him regroup."

"Severus, you are to supervise Ronald's new friend as well," Dumbledore instructed, and Snape gave a reluctant nod. "I will make contact with Amelia and her Aurors, they must know about Samara as quickly as possible."

"Artyom will only listen to me," Ron felt the urge to point out. "He's a bit difficult, sometimes. Don't worry, though, I'll speak to him. With his help, I think we have a better chance of finding Alexei." What an odd name. Sounds like a girl's name to me, actually.

"Then, we are not removing her from Office?" Snape asked, looking slightly vexed. I couldn't care less; I just don't want her causing us trouble.

"This is the right way, my friends," Dumbledore said, his eyes traveling between the two wizards in front of him. "No child is guilty of their parent's crimes, and death only begets more death. We will offer Samara every opportunity to correct her path, and hopefully, with her son there to speak to her; we will stop Lord Voldemort's machinations within Magical Russia."

"And if she doesn't listen?" Snape asked.

"Then, we kill her," Ron replied before Dumbledore. "Sorry, Headmaster, but if your way doesn't work, then we really ought to get rid of her. She has too much power in her hands, and I really don't want to get into a pissing contest with another Minister."

Dumbledore simply smiled, as if he already knew what was going to happen.

"We are decided, then," Dumbledore said clearly. "We will attempt to find Alexei, first, and only then will we confront Samara. I have already spoken to her myself, and sadly; she refused to betray Lord Voldemort."

"This is a foolish plan," Snape shook his head. "However, it is two against one… Finding the boy is our next objective, it seems."

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore's warm smile grew, but Snape only grumbled in response.

"I won't be available to help with this for a while," Ron said, and both wizards immediately looked to him. "I have something else that I need to do."

"You have another war to fight?" Snape asked.

"Something like that," Ron replied. "Ilvermorny… I will be paying them a visit soon; they have something I want."

Dumbledore and Snape exchanged curious looks, waiting for Ron to continue. Maybe the Headmaster's help is what I'm missing? A letter from Albus Dumbledore would surely move Ilvermorny's Headmaster, wouldn't it?

"There is a Sacred Tree in Ilvermorny, I need at least one leaf from it," Ron started.

"Ah, the Snakewood Tree of Ilvermorny," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "The leaves from this particular tree are considered even more potent than Phoenix Tears when it comes to healing the sick, a truly remarkable product of Magic." Even more powerful than Phoenix Tears? He said 'this particular tree', does that mean there are other Snakewood Trees out there? And is this one the strongest of them all? If so, why?

"This is for Miss. Davis, I assume," Snape said, and Ron gave an absentminded nod. I need London to finish up her research, I have to know everything about this tree before I get to Ilvermorny.

"If this tree can help save her, then I won't come back until I've gotten a leaf from it," Ron said.

"This noble quest could prove to be difficult, dear boy," Dumbledore said, becoming more serious. "Headmaster Harkin has not allowed a soul near that tree since Lord Voldemort attempted to invade the school."

"Headmaster Harkin… What can you tell me about this man?" Ron asked.

"He is a very good friend of mine," Dumbledore replied. "As a matter of fact, he received his education right in this very castle."

"Really?" Ron blinked.

"Headmaster Asmodeus Harkin, was a truly gifted student of Hufflepuff," Dumbledore remembered fondly. "I taught him Transfiguration, in his youth, and often found him helping the Elves inside the Kitchens. He was always so very fascinated by the cultures of his fellow Magical Beings." Asmodeus Harkin… Intimidating name, but apparently, he's a decent enough bloke. Well, he doesn't hate Elves, but given the cunts I'm used to dealing with; this man is already a saint.

"If he's a good bloke, then why won't he let people near the Sacred Tree?" Ron quickly asked.

"It is his duty to protect the tree," Dumbledore explained. "When he became the Headmaster of Ilvermorny, he wrote to me; describing some of his strange new responsibilities-"

"Strange?" even Snape sounded a bit curious, now.

"I cannot share what he told me in confidence," Dumbledore said, his voice calm and steady as usual. "However, I can tell you that the Sacred Tree is his direct responsibility, and he is a man who takes his responsibilities very seriously."

"I need a leaf from that tree, so I'm coming back with one," Ron stated. "There is no negotiation to be had, not really." I get what I want, always. If they try to stop me, I'll have that school levelled if that's what it takes. They'll wish they were dealing with the Dark Lord by the time I'm done with them.

"I understand your need to help your friend, Ronald," Dumbledore said, cutting into Ron's thoughts. "But Asmodeus is a good man, humble and full of kindness. Do not make an enemy of him, he is our natural ally against the Dark Lord." Humble and full of kindness? No one is like that. Not even you.

"The Dark Lord did something to the tree, didn't he?" Ron asked. "I've heard the rumours." Which were first heard by Lord Greengrass.

"He did, and to this day, no one except for Lord Voldemort knows of what he did," Dumbledore nodded, stroking his beard. "I believe Lord Voldemort was enticed by the Tree's Healing Magic, and in an effort to use it for himself; he destroyed it for everyone else."

"And no one has been able to lift this Curse?" Ron inquired. "Not even you?"

"I tried to, but I found no Curse whatsoever," Dumbledore replied. "It was… strange… Even for me." Okay, this is getting a little complicated.

"So it just… died?" Ron asked.

"No, the tree is very much alive," Dumbledore corrected. "However, it no longer grows fresh leaves. Only a handful remain, now, and Headmaster Harkin is adamant about keeping the tree the way it currently is."

"He doesn't want to risk destroying it," Snape said to himself. "Foolish. The Dark Lord is perhaps the most powerful Dark Wizard in the history of the Wizarding World, they would do well to remove any object he touched within their school."

"The Sacred Tree is Ilvermorny, Severus," Dumbledore said, confusing both wizards. "Rather, it is the soul of Ilvermorny."

"Really?" Ron asked. "A tree is the soul of Ilvermorny?"

"It was planted by Isolt Steward, the Pure-Blood witch who founded Ilvermorny alongside her Muggle husband, James Steward," Dumbledore explained. Ilvermorny was founded by a Muggle? That's new. A Great Magical School founded by someone who can't even use Magic? How does that work?

"It is said that, as the tree grew, so did Ilvermorny," Dumbledore continued. "What Lord Voldemort did, it stirred an outrage within the States. Many demanded that the Magical Congress of the United States of America, their version of a Ministry of Magic, get involved in the Great War."

"But they didn't," Ron said, he knew that much. "Not really."

"They offered much aid under the table," Dumbledore replied. "MACUSA quickly learned to fear Lord Voldemort, he did not take kindly to their threats, I'm afraid. He had several high-ranking Officials of MACUSA murdered out of the blue, within their very homes, just to prove that he could destroy the States at any given moment; he simply found them too distasteful to rule over."

"Again, what a cunt," Ron added. "So, basically, he fucked the tree up for everyone, and when the American people wanted him to answer for his crimes; he put the fear of God in all of them. Bloody hell… They'll never give me a damn leaf, will they? I'm just another Brit demanding they hand over what's theirs."

"The outcome of your quest depends entirely on you," Dumbledore advised. "Will you approach Headmaster Harkin with the respect worthy of a Hogwarts student? Or, will you come with threats as Lord Voldemort did?" That… is good advice. Maybe Lord Greengrass and Mr. Davis are being a little too aggressive? Maybe that's why they were rejected? Their frustration and anger probably led them to threaten Ilvermorny, for which they were banished from the school's grounds.

Ron thought about Dumbledore's words, maybe the plan needed to be altered given the new information Ron had just acquired? We'll see. For now, I should just focus on learning more about this tree. The old man clearly knows a lot, but he's not going to share. He'd rather teach me a lesson than to be actually useful.

"Is there anything left to discuss?" Ron asked.

"For now, I think we should take a break," Dumbledore replied, looking towards Snape. "Rest that leg, Severus. I am sorry for 'dragging this out'."

Snape rolled his eye, getting up without saying a word.

"Ron, with me," Snape ordered, limping towards the fireplace.

"Goodnight, Headmaster," Ron stood up as well. "Sleep well, I'll see you at Breakfast."

"Goodnight, dear boy," Dumbledore smiled, taking a lemon drop for himself. "Try to sleep more than two hours, tonight. The bags under your eyes do you no favours, I'm sorry to say."

"That was a little mean, but okay," Ron said, heading towards the fireplace and ignoring Dumbledore's hearty chuckle.

As Ron followed Snape through the fireplace, he couldn't help but wonder if he would get some sleep tonight. He felt tired, he looked tired, and yet, he also felt completely awake. It's just in my head, I'll take some Sleeping Draught tonight. I need to rest properly, or, I'll end up passing out again.

"Wait here," Snape said, heading towards his room.

After nearly a minute, Snape re-entered the office, a black jar floating to his left. That must be the Numbing Balm.

"Is this it?" Ron asked, grabbing the jar and inspecting it. I can already smell it, very minty. I like it.

"Here," Snape said, he was holding bandages in his prosthetic hand. "Wet them with Aguamenti, spread the balm on the wet bandages generously, and then, wrap the soaked bandages around the wounds. No more Pain-Relief Potion, am I clear? You will lose more than your arm if you keep taking it."

"I understand," Ron took the bandages, pocketing them. "I just wanted the pain to stop, that's all." Snape's features softened for a moment, but only for a moment. "I'll use this from now on, you have my word."

Snape said nothing, giving Ron a nod before turning to leave.

"Actually, I have one more thing to ask of you," Ron said, stopping Snape. "Hermione's House-Points… Give them back to her, please."

"Excuse me?" Snape turned around; his eye fixed on Ron's.

"You took ten points from her today, in your Potions Club," Ron reminded the man. "It was my fault that the potion was delayed, not hers. I took the ladle out of her hands, and then, I didn't stir the potion fast enough. I was distracted, not her."

"Why are you telling me something so pointless?" Snape asked icily.

"It's not pointless, though," Ron replied. "You are the face of Slytherin, Sir, not me. If you behave like a cunt constantly, then everyone in this school will continue to treat us poorly simply due to association. You know I'm right about this, people don't bother looking at reason when they're upset. After you're done tormenting a bunch of Gryffindors, those very same Gryffindors find a Slytherin to get their frustrations out. They can't touch you, but the rest of us are a different story."

Snape said nothing once again, simply heading towards his quarters as if Ron hadn't said a word.

"Will you give her those points back tomorrow?" Ron called, hoping for a yes. "Sir, this behaviour of yours needs to change-"

"No," Snape shut him down. Oh, well, I tried being nice. Cutis Terra!

Ron felt his entire body harden into steel, and just as Snape reached the door leading into his room, Ron grabbed a nearby chair and hurled it at the man's back. The chair smashed into Snape's back, shattering on impact. All Snape managed was a shocked hiss of pain before he was lying face-first on the ground, his ears ringing and his bones trembling.

Ron walked over quietly, pressing his foot on top on Snape's wounded leg just as the man turned over. The Potions Master let out another pained hiss, trying to shove Ron's polished boot off of his leg.

"Don't bother, I could easily put my foot through your chest if I really wanted to," Ron pressed harder, causing Snape to nearly yell in agony. "You are making my job harder by being a bully, Sir. Right now, I'm as calm as I could be, so think very carefully about what I'll do to you once the Calming Draught wears off."

Snape stopped moving at that, his eye locking onto Ron's again. Is that fear? It is.

"You will stop treating the students like they're your personal punching bag," Ron continued. "Half of the bullies within Slytherin mimic your behaviour, they also only target students that you go after in order to avoid detentions. Hell, Neville Longbottom's greatest fear in life isn't the woman who destroyed his parents, it's you."

Snape's eye widened a little, and he just lay there, listening quietly and hoping that Ron didn't press his foot down again.

"That's right," Ron went on. "Neville is so terrified of you that the Boggart we all faced turned into you, not Bellatrix Lestrange. You've been tormenting him for nearly three years, now. You even tried to make him poison his own familiar, remember? Back then, we talked about this, but clearly, the lesson didn't stick."

Ron pressed his foot down again, and Snape howled from the pain. Just as Ron relented, Snape's prosthetic hand suddenly reached into his pocket, no doubt searching for his wand. You want to play? Sure, we'll fucking play, then.

"Depulso!" Snape barked; his wand now brandished.

A wave of Magic hit Ron, but it didn't even budge him. That's it? I'm insulted.

"Oh, please," Ron kicked Snape's arm, nearly shattering it.

The wand flew out of Snape's hand, rolling under the table whilst its Master let out another pained grunt. I'm wearing one of my augmented suits, and I have Cutis Terra activated. You'd have to drop a building on me just to slow me down.

"Starting from tomorrow, you will not torment any students," Ron said calmly. "I won't bother asking next time, instead, I will lodge a complaint with the Headmaster. If you still don't learn to behave yourself after that, then I'll just get rid of you. I don't need any more stress in my life, Sir, so you better listen to me."

Snape said nothing, instead massaging his aching arm while his eye became very distant.

"Do not test me again," Ron warned, turning around and heading towards the exit. "Goodnight, Sir. Oh, and thank you for the Numbing Balm. I shouldn't forget my manners."

---

Severus Snape's POV

Wednesday 24th February, 1994 (The Hospital Wing – Evening)

He rarely used his fireplace to get to the Hospital Wing, but tonight, he had no other choice. It had taken every ounce of willpower just to limp through the fireplace, Ron's assault had left Snape rattled in spirit and body.

A damn child had bested him, but not only that; the boy had done so with no effort whatsoever.

It was humiliating, but also, in its own way; it was a reminder of how much he had lost at the hands of the Dark Lord. His power, the thing he had given his soul up for, had now been taken away from him. This had been the Dark Lord's true punishment, the real reason why Snape had been hacked to pieces instead of just being killed outright. He's taken everything from me. I'm nothing…

"Merlin, Severus," Poppy continued to scold. "Your entire back is bruised… Did you really fall down the stairs?"

"No, my back just decided to bruise up on its own," Snape replied coldly.

"We should look into that, then, shouldn't we?" Poppy asked, pressing the tip of her wand on the nape of his neck. "Try to remain still, this will take some time. Do you want a potion for the pain?"

"No," Snape replied, his eye fixed on the clean, white floor. "Don't dull the pain."

"Severus… You can barely move…" Poppy sighed out. "Please? Just a few drops-"

"No Pain-Relief Potion," Snape said. Pain is the ultimate teacher, the Dark Lord himself taught me that. And one day soon, he will regret sharing his knowledge with me.

---

Forty Minutes Later

"I am fine, now," Snape said, but Poppy didn't look convinced.

"Why not spend the night here?" Poppy asked. "You can rest in a comfortable bed, and early in the morning, I'll come and get you. No student will even see you here, Severus-"

"You think I care about what those hairless apes think?" Snape asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Don't call them that," Poppy admonished. "You have no idea how many students come to be with issues that can be traced directly back to you…" Pardon?

Poppy shook her head to herself, gesturing him to be on his way.

"Go on…" Poppy said. "I won't stop you, just don't push yourself-"

"Students come to you with complaints about me?" Snape asked, not quite sure why he even cared.

"It's just the usual," Poppy said dismissively. "I can't share anything they say with you, Severus. I've already spoken out of turn. Goodnight, and take my advice for once."

"Very well," Snape said, he knew she was done with this conversation. It must be the Gryffindors, a House full of arrogant fools like Potter. I shouldn't concern myself with this.

Snape limped out of the Hospital Wing, the sound of his cane echoing through the empty hallways. Ron has no idea what he's talking about, I am simply doing what the other Professors do; I favour my own House. If I don't bring those Gryffindors down a peg, then who will?

As Snape turned the corner, an excited Ravenclaw first year nearly ran into him. However, the sight of the Potions Master stopped the girl dead in her tracks; her large brown eyes nearly popping out of her head.

"I'm so sorry, Professor Snape!" the girl blurted out. "So sorry! I wasn't watching where I was going!"

"Stop shouting," Snape frowned out of instinct, and the blood drained from the girl's face.

Usually, Snape would have punished her by docking points and handing out a detention, but tonight, he had Ronald Weasley's voice echoing around in his head.

"Neville Longbottom's greatest fear in life isn't the woman who destroyed his parents, it's you," Ron's voice kept telling him. That moron fears me more than he fears Bellatrix Lestrange… How is that even possible? She all but murdered his parents.

Snape continued to stare at the first year, his harsh punishment stuck on the tip of his tongue. Damn you, Ron… Damn you. He was still angry with the boy, not for his own injuries, but rather at the lack of control Ron displayed wherever his rage was involved. Everything I taught him went right out of the window, didn't it? I'm beginning to think he enjoys letting his anger out, otherwise he'd use his Occlumency training to try and control himself.

"No more running," Snape told the first year. "Now, off to bed. Don't let me catch you again."

The first year blinked, not moving from her spot. What? What is it?

"Are you waiting for me to dock points?" Snape frowned again. Leave, girl.

"Well… Sort of…" the girl sounded so confused. This idiot. "Oh, and I need to see Madam Pomfrey… about a girl issue-"

"Just. Go." Snape ordered.

"Oh… Okay…" the first year began slinking away. "Goodnight, Professor."

"Hmph," Snape grunted, waiting until the girl was gone. "Girl issue…"

Snape restarted his journey, his mind traveling towards Hermione Granger of all people. Ron wasn't wrong, I only came over because I saw her talking. I was planning to dock points from her, even if I found no mistakes. For the first time in his life, Snape felt guilty over docking House-Points from a Gryffindor, and that was a feeling that he didn't particularly want to welcome.

He did not like the Muggle-Born witch, she was far too eager to please and often spoke out of turn, but she was still a good student. Far better than many Slytherins, even. Despite her ridiculous class schedule, she continues to attend every meeting of the Potions Club. Snape stopped walking, another frown forming on his face. Damn it.

Snape drew in a deep breath before making up his mind, he'd return those points back to her. The boy will never shut up about this, I just hope he doesn't tell Albus as well.

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Thursday 25th February, 1994 (The Sanctuary – After Lunch)

Ron fired a Non-Verbal stunner, moving quickly in order to regain his footing. The P-12 had pushed him to the edge of the sand-pit, and if Ron didn't find a way to push it back; the P-12 would walk away with another victory. C'mon, Ron! Focus!

"Protego Maxima!" Ron chanted, creating a large, white shield in front of himself.

Curses and Charms shattered against the shield, the P-12 had a habit of pressing the attack whenever it had the advantage. Unfortunately for Ron, the P-12 never needed to worry about sore muscles and general fatigue, and as such, it continued bombarding Ron's shield without missing a beat. Damn… I can't hold it!

The shield shattered, and Ron dove out of the way.

"Stop!" Ron commanded; he had moved out of the sandpit. "FUCK!"

Ron stood back up, smacking the sand off of his training outfit. Frustration was pounding in his head, and Ron had to let out another yell just to make himself feel less angry. Relentless motherfucker!

Ron paced back and forth; his eyes fixed on the motionless P-12. Cutis Terra! Within a heartbeat, Ron reached the dummy, punching it where its face should've been. The P-12 rattled like a broken toy, its head flying across the room while its body rolled through the sand. There, I fucking win! Cunt!

"A bit of a sore loser, aren't you?" came Ravenclaw Ron's voice, stopping Ron in his tracks.

"So, you're back, then?" Ron turned to face his past-self.

"Depends," Ravenclaw Ron shrugged, he was floating out of Ron's reach. "Are you going to try and kill me this time? Which, by the way, would not end well for you. If I'm not there to keep the World-Eater trapped, then you're just as fucked as I am." I know, I fucking lost it yesterday.

"Don't insult people I care about, and I won't hurt you," Ron stated bluntly.

"Oh, so you care about her?" Ravenclaw Ron smirked, while Ron glowered at him. "You do, don't you? She fucked you over, and you're still out to protect her. Fuck, that's actually kind of sad-"

"What would you know?" Ron asked coldly. "Loyalty is not a word in your vocabulary, is it?"

"No one was loyal to me, so I figured that I'd be loyal to no one," Ravenclaw Ron said. "How about we just agree to disagree? I still think you should get rid of her; she'll only do this again if given the chance."

"If I push her away, where will she go?" Ron asked. "Right to her fucking parents, who will then send her to the Dark Lord to be branded. I don't need another Death-Eater running around Magical Britain, we already have plenty." Plus, she will die if she joins the Dark Lord. She doesn't have it in her to hurt people without a second thought, and for that alone, she would be punished constantly. Pushing her out of the group would be no different than me pushing her off of the Astronomy Tower, death is bloody guaranteed.

"Then, why not just forgive her?" Ravenclaw Ron asked.

"Because…" Ron started, feeling even more frustrated. "Because she still chose them over me… I know they're her Family, but still… She chose slavers over me, someone who told her the truth instead of lying to her for her entire life." Good deeds mean nothing, only fear seems to do the trick.

"Since you won't listen to me, all I can do is wait for the next knife in your back," Ravenclaw Ron hummed. "You know, this is an odd habit of yours… You don't learn until you get burned, it's bizarre. Your friends warned you against trusting the 'Golden Trio', but you didn't listen. Everyone warned you about the Veelas, but you didn't listen. Greengrass warned you about not telling Bulstrode the truth, but you didn't listen. I never had this problem-"

"Trust me, you have plenty of others to worry about," Ron pointed out.

"No arguments here," Ravenclaw Ron sniggered. "Let's make a bet? If Bulstrode betrays you again, I get-"

"Why are you here?" Ron asked, cutting his past-self off. "I'm not in the mood for your games, tell me what you want and then fuck off."

Ravenclaw Ron sniffed deeply, a disturbing grin creeping onto his face.

"Your anger, it soothes me," Ravenclaw Ron said, almost trembling from excitement. "I think now is a great time to show you some of my tricks, don't you think?" Tricks?

"What sort of tricks?" Ron asked, his eyes narrowing. "You promised to teach me the Unforgivables-"

"Yeah, I don't think you need my help with those," Ravenclaw Ron chuckled again. "Given your anger issues, I imagine you could even impress Antonin bloody Dolohov with your affinity for the Dark Arts."

"Then, what are you going to teach me?" Ron asked.

"Something so simple that no one will see it coming," Ravenclaw Ron replied. "A Wandless Depulso!"

Ron just stared at his counterpart, was this a fucking joke?

"You have five seconds to come up with something new," Ron said. "After that, I'm going to become the first man to ever fuck his own arse with his own foot."

"Relax," Ravenclaw Ron burst into laughter. "Merlin, you say some really disturbing things, Ronnie."

"I don't need to learn the Wandless variation of the Banishing Charm, it's not even that useful of a Spell," Ron said, looking ready to send Ravenclaw Ron away. "I want something stronger, something that can't be blocked so easily."

"A Spell doesn't need to be flashy to be useful," Ravenclaw Ron started. "You throw a man against a wall hard enough, and he'll die. No different than the Killing Curse."

"You said you'd teach me to become mist and shadow," Ron reminded Ravenclaw Ron. "You said you'd show me actual Magic!"

"And I will," Ravenclaw Ron said calmingly. "Just try the Spell out, all right? See if you can do it." Fine…

"How does the Wandless variation work?" Ron asked, turning to face the P-12. "Reparo!"

Once the P-12 had reassembled itself, Ron looked to his past-self for instructions.

"Throw a straight jab, whilst casting the Spell," Ravenclaw Ron explained. "You need to feel your Magic moving through your arm, though I must warn you, this has to be done within a split-second." Timing is not an issue for me, not anymore.

"If it works, the P-12 will get knocked over?" Ron asked.

"That depends on you," Ravenclaw Ron replied. "Or, rather, it depends on your control over your own Magic. Now, try it."

Ron sheathed his Aspen Wand, closing his eyes and focusing his mind. Feel your Magic, Ron. After a few short moments, Ron found that familiar heartbeat again. His Magic was pulsating, as if waiting to be unleashed upon his many enemies. Once Ron could feel his overwhelming Magic without trouble, he reopened his eyes and took on a fighting stance.

"Depulso!" Ron chanted, throwing a straight jab just as instructed.

For the briefest of moments, Ron felt a wave of Magic course through his right arm, and then, before Ron could even blink, the P-12 was rolling through the sand again.

"Nice!" Ravenclaw Ron clapped. "First fucking try as well, colour me impressed!"

Oddly enough, it still felt good to be praised for his hard work, even from a lunatic like Ravenclaw Ron. Even I know I shouldn't feel proud when this bastard says something nice, and yet, here I am… Fuck.

"Now, this time, don't knock it over," Ravenclaw Ron instructed, surprising Ron.

"You don't want me to knock it over?" Ron asked. "Why?"

"Try it," Ravenclaw Ron pointed towards the P-12. "Go on, humour a disembodied soul, will you?"

Ron fixed up the P-12, ready to try again.

"Depulso," Ron chanted, throwing a straight jab.

Just like before, Ron felt a wave of Magic pass through his right arm, and then, the P-12 was eating sand. Shit!

"Bloody hell," Ron frowned, looking down at his right hand. What did I do wrong?

"Control, Ronnie," Ravenclaw Ron said, floating above Ron's head. "Control is everything, and you, my friend, have little to no control over yourself, let alone your Magic."

"I have control-" Ron started.

"Clearly, you don't," Ravenclaw Ron tutted, pointing towards the P-12 again. "You said this wasn't a useful Spell, right? Then, why did you fail?"

"I didn't fail, I cast it correctly," Ron argued.

"Stop being so proud, I'm trying to help you," Ravenclaw Ron rolled his eyes. "You want to turn into mist and shadow? You want to turn into a murder of crows with nothing more than a thought? Then, learn to control your Magic, that's the very first step to becoming a truly powerful wizard. Anyone can get angry, Ronnie, but the man who can control his rage and harness it… Well, that's the bastard you want to avoid running into during a war."

Ron listened quietly, using his Occlumency to clear his mind of any pride and anger. Just do as he asks, he wasn't wrong about the Spell… I couldn't control my own Magic, plain and simple. Don't be stupid, and improve.

"Until you can show me some control, I'm not going to teach you anything else," Ravenclaw Ron said. "The Spells you want to learn require focus and control in equal measure, and although you are a focused individual; your control over your Magic is non-existent. Right now, it controls you, and that's something that needs to change."

"How did you gain so much control, then?" Ron had to ask. "You aren't exactly… sane…"

"Do you know what it's like to have the power of an Old God course through your body?" Ravenclaw Ron asked, and Ron shook his head. "It feels like you're riding a fucking comet." Oh… "I had to learn to control that much power before I could use it, otherwise it would have cooked me alive."

"The Entity is that powerful? Even in its weakened form?" Ron asked slowly, feeling a very familiar fear deep in his heart. I'm so fucking fucked when I die… We both are.

"Now, you understand why we can't fail," Ravenclaw Ron nodded. "Again. Show me that you can control yourself."

---

Thursday 25th February, 1994 (The Sanctuary – Nearly Six 'o'clock)

Ron fixed the bandages on his arm, noticing that his wounds hadn't caused him any discomfort all day long. The Numbing Balm really works, then. I would thank Professor Snape, but given that I broke a chair on his back last night, it's probably best if I don't run into him anytime soon.

Ron didn't really feel guilty over what he had to his favourite Professor; the man was all but asking for a taste of his own medicine. He better stop being an arsehole towards the students, I can't change Slytherin if our own Head of House likes to torment the Muggle-Borns in his spare time-

"You did well, today," Ravenclaw Ron commended.

"No, I didn't," Ron frowned to himself. "I kept knocking the P-12 over, remember?"

"You're too hard on yourself," Ravenclaw Ron said, sounding almost gentle this time. "I think you did good, considering that you've never tried to purposefully weaken your Spells before. It's not an easy trick, mate."

Ron looked up from his bandages, spotting Ravenclaw Ron standing in front of the fireplace, his back facing Ron. He's a hard one to read, probably because he's insane. Ravenclaw Ron then turned to face Ron, looking as wild as ever. And he's back.

"Once you gain enough control over your Magic, you can use Depulso to telepathically beat the shit out of anyone from across the room," Ravenclaw Ron said. "Every punch and kick fires an invisible force of Magic at your opponent, and if they're not the sharpest tool in the shed, they'll never see it coming."

"You can kick out a Depulso?" Ron asked.

"Your entire body is a conduit, mate," Ravenclaw Ron replied. "I'll teach you to use all of it, not just your hands."

"But, first, I need control," Ron figured.

"Exactly so," Ravenclaw Ron nodded. "Not as dumb as you look."

"We're literally the same person," Ron said, staring at his past-self as if he were an idiot.

"But I look better," Ravenclaw Ron shrugged. "Plus, I don't have those ugly scars all over me, so there is that."

Ron couldn't help but feel put down by that, but he didn't say anything. He's not wrong, you are hard to look at, old boy…

"I have to go," Ron stood up, fixing up his right sleeve. "It's nearly six, and I need to train the fourth years today."

"Are you going for a morning run tomorrow?" Ravenclaw Ron suddenly asked.

"Yes, obviously," Ron replied. "I went for one this morning as well, in case you want to know."

"I know…" Ravenclaw Ron looked back towards the fire. "Did you really have to beat Ginny that badly?"

"Pardon?" Ron blinked.

"She looked upset to me, that's all," Ravenclaw Ron said. "You didn't have to go all out and beat her by six laps, that's what I'm trying to say. It was just a childish race, and you still went out of your way to destroy her confidence." This is unbelievable… Am I imagining this? He's actually upset over me beating Ginny in a race?

"Do you know why I beat her that badly?" Ron asked, and Ravenclaw Ron turned back around.

"No," he replied.

"Because I don't lose," Ron told his past-self. "Next time she wants to show off how quick she is, she had best beat me, first."

"Slytherins," Ravenclaw Ron sighed out, looking back towards the fire. "This is why no one likes your House."

"And it's exactly why the rest of you are always second place," Ron said, heading towards the exit. "Those who put in the work deserve the win, and I have put in too much work to lose to a little girl in anything. Even a childish race."

---

Remus Lupin's POV

Thursday 25th February, 1994 (The Headmaster's Office – Nearly Dinner)

Remus paced back and forth; he had never felt more pressed for time than right now.

Artyom and Sirius had tracked Remus down a day before they could all reach the Werewolf Sanctuary, and after explaining Ron's deal with Pius Thicknesse, all of them had worked tirelessly to warn the other groups. Families had to be split up, with many wanted Werewolves choosing to flee so that their loved ones could enjoy paradise.

It had been difficult, but with Thaddeus' guidance and understanding, Remus had made his peace with it. Not all Werewolves were going to be saved, that much was always obvious.

And yet, Remus had hoped…

"He is on his way, Remus," Dumbledore suddenly said. "Please, take a seat and have some tea."

"This is good tea, Remus," Sirius said, taking another sip. "Is this foreign?"

"It's from China," Dumbledore replied. "A secret order of Magical Monks gave it to me as a gift."

Artyom, Remus, and Sirius all looked towards the old wizard, but he merely chuckled and refused to elaborate. Magical Monks? Never heard of them before.

"Will you stop?" Artyom asked, he too was getting sick of Remus' pacing. "Your pacing will not speed up anything."

"The full moon is nearly upon us," Remus reminded them. "Thaddeus better be getting his people inside even as we speak, or, we'll have Werewolves running wild all over Kent!"

"That would be bad," Sirius nodded, taking another sip. How is he so calm?!

"It will not come to that," Artyom said bluntly. "If your people begin to turn whilst outside, my men will put them down. All of them."

"What?!" Remus demanded, while Dumbledore and Sirius just stared at Artyom.

"It would be bad for client if this happened," Artyom stated. "He is my only concern." What sort of twisted sense of loyalty is this? Ron would never allow that!

"Speak of the devil, and he shall appear," Dumbledore said, waving his hand and opening the door.

Ron stood on the other side; his hand raised in order to knock before entering.

"Remus!" Ron's face immediately lit up. "Thank Merlin, you're here! I was starting to panic, I won't lie! Where have you all been?!"

"Running around the country," Sirius replied, standing up. "We got to them, kid. Just barely, but we got to them."

Ron's smile widened as he heard that, looking truly relieved.

"And?" Ron asked, looking towards Remus.

"They're at the gates, being processed," Remus replied. "Ron, we need to go right now. The full moon will start affecting them soon, we need to get all of them into the safe rooms."

"Let's go, then," Ron said, all but running towards the fireplace. "Let's go! Hurry!"

Remus didn't need to be told twice, though Ron's eagerness definitely forced his feet to move faster than ever before. We're coming, Thaddeus. The Werewolves can finally have a place to call home.

---

Thursday 25th February, 1994 (Prosperity Farm – Dinnertime)

"This is… fucking incredible, isn't it?" Sirius asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"It is," Remus replied, though his gut felt tighter than any knot. I'm sweating as well. Merlin, I couldn't be more nervous, I keep feeling like something is about to go horribly wrong.

Ron was currently at the gates, helping process the Werewolves more efficiently. Thaddeus was by his side, helping him in any way he could, but Ron didn't look like he needed help. The moment the young wizard had arrived, his mercenaries had flown into action at his command. They had even managed to subtly push the Werewolf Capture Unit back, creating Magical Barriers in order to separate the wary Werewolves from the unforgiving WCU.

The Ministry was also here, in the form of some faceless Ministry Officials and Mad-Eye himself. While the Ministry workers focused on getting signatures for the Werewolf Registration, Mad-Eye inspected each Werewolf for concealed weapons or familiar faces.

The security of the Werewolf Sanctuary was quite daunting, actually, with cold-blooded mercenaries watching every corner of the property, while the staff had made it all but impossible to enter the Sanctuary from anywhere but the front gate. The walls were too high to scale, with invisible wards barring entry for anyone attempting to fly in.

Remus felt both safe and trapped, which in his opinion was as good as security could get.

"Remus, are you there?" Sirius nudged him. "Merlin, mate, just take a breather. Everything is going well-"

"Sirius, I can already feel Moony…" Remus came clean. "He's getting agitated, he wants to wake up." I can't keep holding him down for long, once the moon reaches its peak; we'll all turn.

"Shite," Sirius hissed. "Are you serious? Fuck, we have to go warn the kid."

"I need to get back to the Shrieking Shack," Remus said, and Sirius blinked at him.

"Why are you going there?" Sirius asked. "There are safe rooms here, Remus."

"I… I don't really belong here, you know that," Remus shifted in his spot a little. "I'm not a part of any pack-"

"Stop being an idiot," Sirius frowned, stopping Remus short. "This place doesn't have any packs, nor does it turn away people who need help. The Shrieking Shack is horrible, Remus, and you hurt yourself every time you're in there. Just stay here, with Thaddeus. He needs you-"

"Not really," Remus felt the urge to point out.

"I saw it for myself, you daft prick," Sirius shook his head, giving Remus an almost disappointed look. "You got the camp moving again, you ran around the country searching for anyone who would be arrested, you even convinced Thaddeus to give Ron a chance in the first place. Trust me, he needs you, mate. Plus, he's getting older every day, and I think he's more than earned a little rest." Truer words were never spoken, Thaddeus deserves to rest after all he's done for his people.

"By the Gods, it's really happening, then?" came a very familiar voice, and both wizards turned to see Nymphadora and Andromeda Tonks approaching them.

"Good evening, you two," Andromeda greeted them, her eyes shining with excitement.

"Cousin," Sirius greeted Andromeda with a smile, shooting a quick wink at Nymphadora. "What are you doing here?"

"Nymphadora insisted I join her, I hope that's no trouble," Andromeda replied, looking towards the Werewolves. "How many are there?"

"Nearly three hundred," Sirius replied boastfully.

"You really found all of them?" Tonks whispered to Remus.

"Not all, but most of those who wanted to be here," Remus replied.

"Good on you, Remus," Tonks smiled proudly.

Remus felt oddly uncomfortable all of a sudden, as if his throat was parched and his palms were sweaty.

"It's nothing…" Remus said, looking back towards the Werewolves. "I didn't do all that much, anyway. It was mostly Ron and Thaddeus."

Tonks said nothing, only smiling more widely up at him. Why is she looking at me like that? Silence fell between them, with the only noise coming from Sirius and Andromeda's nearby conversation.

After a few more moments, Remus found himself wanting nothing more than to be on his way.

"I should… probably go help, right?" Remus started, getting nervous. "Right, I'll be on my way-"

"I'd like to come with," Tonks said. "I want to speak with Thaddeus again. Oh, and the little ones!"

"The little ones?" Remus asked slowly.

"The children, Remus," Tonks giggled, playful swatting his arm. "The ones I was entertaining? Josh, Rebecca, Timothy-"

"Oh, um… Yes, of course," Remus nodded too quickly. "Let's go?"

"Lead the way," Tonks giggled, following after him.

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Thursday 25th February, 1994 (Prosperity Farm – Dinnertime)

"We have problem," Artyom suddenly came up from behind Ron.

"What is it?" Ron asked, turning to face the man. "I thought everything was going brilliantly-"

"Journalists are here," Artyom interjected. "They are in mess hall, creating headaches for Lord Fawley. They want to see Werewolves, take pictures." Son of a cunt.

"Come on, let's go," Ron said, making his way towards the gate. "How many haven't been processed yet?"

"Only handful," Artyom replied. "We are working as quickly as possible, but Ministry fools are getting in our way. London fears sabotage, I have sent her to set up sentries around property."

"They are making things harder, aren't they?" Ron frowned a little, shooting a quick look back at the WCU. If not for that Cecil Lee fellow, the WCU would have directly interfered with the processing of the Werewolves. Why do I feel like the WCU is comprised mostly of sadistic bastards who want to cause pain without consequence?

The journey back towards the mess hall was a rushed one, but when they eventually reached the Grand Hall of Prosperity Farm; Ron was greeted by the sight of cameras and eager reporters. Wait… None of these reporters are mine? What in the fuck?

"Artyom, go find Marietta and bring her to me," Ron ordered. "Why the fuck isn't she here already? Even the cunts from Witch Weekly are here."

"I will find frightened rabbit," Artyom gave a nod, heading through the reporters in order to reach the fireplaces.

Ron decided to back up Lord Fawley, who looked quite frustrated with the reporters who refused to leave his premises

"Lord Fawley," Ron greeted, he had to raise his voice just so his friend could hear him.

"Ah, Ronald… Excellent timing," Lord Fawley said, putting a hand on Ron's shoulder. "Do something about these reporters, I have to get the safe rooms ready for inspection."

"Inspection?" Ron blinked.

"Look at all of these reporters, my boy," Lord Fawley whispered, pulling Ron aside. "Tonight, is a full moon, and if we can show all of them that our facilities are impeccable; the entire Wizarding World will be in awe of this place." Oh… He's right, actually. We can use this to our advantage.

"A lot more Werewolves will take the risk of coming here if we are successful," Ron said, and Lord Fawley gave a nod.

"Delay them, I will come back and fetch you once everything is ready," Lord Fawley instructed.

"Delay them how?" Ron asked. "You want me to dance, or, something?"

"That depends… Are you a good dancer?" Lord Fawley asked.

"I nearly broke Daphne Greengrass' toes, multiple times," Ron admitted.

"Then, give them what they want," Lord Fawley advised. "An interview with Ronald Bilius Weasley, Magical Britain's finest young wizard." Huh? Oh… The trial, Lord Fawley was right there… I suppose he's over the fact that I broke into his house, then?

"I'll do what I can, my Lord," Ron said, deciding not to argue with the man. "Just hurry, please. I don't like these people." They twist words and only care about selling more papers, they have little to no compassion left in them.

"No one with integrity does, my boy," Lord Fawley said, leaving without wasting another second.

Ron drew in a deep breath, calming down his frantic mind and pushing away all of his worries. Things are progressing as planned, Ron. Just keep a level head, and be very mindful of what you say to the reporters. You are in control of yourself, Ron. Only you, no one else.

Feeling a lot calmer, and a lot more confident; Ron approached the reporters with a friendly smile. They were quick to take photos of him, barking over one another like a pack of hungry dogs.

"Please, one at a time," Ron raised his voice. "I can't understand any of you if you all keep shouting-"

"The full moon is almost upon us, Mr. Weasley," Rita Skeeter cut in, shoving a smaller witch out of her way as she barged to the front of the line. "At this rate, we'll all be surrounded by Werewolves-"

"There is no need to push people, Miss. Skeeter," Ron decided to ignore her for the most part, feeling irked on behalf of the smaller witch. "Madam, are you all right?"

"Oh… Quite fine, Mr. Weasley," the short witch fixed up her glasses, shooting a quick frown at Skeeter.

"Do you have any questions for me?" Ron asked, smiling properly again.

"Certainly," the witch's frown was quickly replaced with an excited smile. "My name is Allegra Montgomery, I'm with-"

"Is it true that many Werewolves have fled in order to avoid the Ministry's justice, Mr. Weasley?" Skeeter asked. Don't. Kill. Her. Ron.

"If you interrupt anyone else, I will have you thrown out of here," Ron warned, silencing the entire flock of reporters. "Go on, Miss. Montgomery. Finish what you were saying."

Skeeter scoffed and looked around for support, only to see everyone smirking at her for getting shut down for a change. She has no idea that I will smack her across the fucking face if she annoys me. I'm not some politician, I couldn't care less about what people like her think of me.

"Ahem, I'm with the Sleepless Owl, we're a small outlet from Poland," Allegra restarted, smiling widely at Ron. "Will we be allowed into these 'safe rooms', by any chance? For observational purposes, of course."

"That is being arranged at this very moment," Ron spoke clearly and confidently. "However, we have to help the Werewolves, first."

"How do these safe rooms work, Mr. Weasley?" a tall man in the back asked.

"Each room is padded and comes equipped with the Cushioning Charm," Ron started. "The binds that will be used to keep the transformed Werewolves secure are also Enchanted, they are unbreakable but also soft on the skin."

"I have heard that Madam Umbridge found these 'safe rooms' to not be as safe as you claim," Skeeter started. "Was she wrong in her assessment?"

"You will see for yourself, tonight," Ron replied, deciding not to call Umbridge out. Get everything sorted on your end, and then you can hunt her down. She may have gone quiet for now, but it won't be long before she's trying to crawl into my arse again.

"Is the British Ministry in favour of this Sanctuary, Mr. Weasley?" Allegra asked.

"Many within the Ministry have… doubts…" Ron replied, thinking carefully about what to share. "However, I fully intend to prove them all wrong. Now, who else has questions?"

---

Friday 26th February, 1994 (Prosperity Farm (Safe Rooms) – Past Midnight)

The last few hours had felt like a blur to Ron, everything and everyone was moving so damn fast. The Werewolves had been rushed into the safe rooms, where they were each given a small dose of Pain-Relief Potion, for the pain that accompanied their transformations, before being given a vial of Wolfsbane Potion as well.

Their transformations hadn't been as grotesque as Ron had imagined, most likely due to the potions easing their minds and bodies; however, many reporters were left disturbed when the Werewolf children turned into almost skeletal beasts. Due to their smaller bodies, they looked more like skinny wolves rather than actual Werewolves.

A friend of Remus', Bjorn, had transformed into a nine-foot behemoth; his fangs and claws looked sharp enough to tear through Dragon hide. As for Remus himself, he had left with a vial of Wolfsbane Potion before anyone could stop him, an act that had greatly upset Sirius for some reason. Ron didn't understand why Remus wanted to be alone tonight, but after he had learned of the man's sudden disappearance, he had decided to let Remus be.

Plus, given how much had happened in the span of a few short hours; Ron simply found himself feeling grateful that no one had gotten hurt in the commotion. Artyom's men had been nothing short of professional, carrying out any task that was required of them without delay. The rest of Ron's alliance had also arrived, along with his parents and the entire Tonks Family. Not that I've had time to talk to any of them, I've been running from one end of the farm to the other since I got here.

"They all looked so… peaceful…" one of the reporters whispered, they were all lounging on the ground floor. "Did you see them? Not dangerous in the least."

"It's because they're on potions," another reporter whispered. "I can't believe I'm about to say this, but I think this place could actually work." Of course, it will work, you just think it's impossible because no one has tried this before.

"Shame that none of them got to see the farm because of the full-moon," another reporter said. "It really is quite beautiful here."

Ron continued to listen to the whispers around him, silently observing every individual within the room. The reporters were still in awe of Prosperity Farm, not that Ron could blame them, while the other guests seemed absolutely taken with Ron himself. No matter where he went, he was greeted with smiles and praise. Some people even mean those words, how bizarre is that?

"Kid, I just spoke to Oscar; everything is going smoothly," Sirius broke Ron out of his thoughts. "Oh, did I spook you?"

"It's just your face, Sirius," Ron smirked. "Can you blame me?"

"You did good, kid, so I'll let that one pass," Sirius chuckled, ruffling Ron's hair. "This place… You're making history, you know that, right?" Making history? How fucked are we, Sirius, if doing a little bit of good is considered so out of the ordinary?

"Didn't you help build this place as well?" Ron asked in response. "We're all making history, Sirius. Don't count yourself short, you put the most amount of gold into this place. I already told the reporters as much-"

"That fucking explains it," Sirius sighed out. "They've been hounding me, pup. Why would you do that?" To help you.

"I meant no harm, I promise," Ron shrugged. "Plus, I think you could use some good press, especially after Skeeter's article on you."

"That's ancient history," Sirius waved a dismissive hand. "I don't really care about what she said, anyway."

"You don't?" Ron cocked an eyebrow.

"Won't change the fact that she was still sucking my cock the night before she published that article, on her knees, no less," Sirius grinned. "Or, the fact that I made her scream my name. I think I 'came' out on top, don't you?" I might fucking vomit, thanks for that.

"I just imagined Skeeter shagging someone…" Ron felt the urge to dash his head against another wall.

"She was surprisingly nimble," Sirius' grin got wider as he nodded at Ron. I think it's time to leave, my brain's already taken enough beatings for one lifetime.

"What are you two talking about?" Arthur asked, his voice coming from behind them. "Who was on top?" You don't want to know, trust me.

"It was nothing, just Quidditch talk," Sirius turned around too quickly, while Ron simply shot a glance back.

Arthur smiled anxiously at his son; however, his awkward demeanour did little to impress Ron. I don't even know why he and mum decided to show up, I don't remember inviting them here.

Ron felt his good mood drain right out of him, leaving him with nothing more than a hollow pit in his stomach. He's come to check up on the disappointment, no doubt. Trying to crawl back into my good graces? After what you said to me? You're lucky I didn't bury you behind your damn shed.

"Didn't sound like nothing," Arthur chuckled, his nervousness irritating Ron. Leave, already. Go annoy someone else.

"What do you want?" Ron asked, his tone sharper than he intended. "We're all very busy, tonight-"

"I… just wanted to congratulate you, son…" Arthur sighed out, while Sirius awkwardly looked between the two Weasleys. "Your mother and I are really proud of you… Really, really proud-"

"Thank you," Ron interjected, deciding to be on his way. "Sirius, I need to go speak with Artyom, can you please make sure that the reporters are well-fed and warm. I don't want them complaining tomorrow morning."

"Um… Sure, pup," Sirius said, scratching the back of his head.

Ron didn't waste a second sticking around, heading towards the closest exit. He made sure to keep a straight face, pushing down his bitter feelings instead of letting them ruin his night. So much could still go wrong, he had to remain focused. His Occlumency skills helped, of course; Ron was finding it easier and easier to regain control of himself as of late. Just not where Daphne is concerned. Am I an idiot for wanting her to be here?

As soon as he stepped out into the cold night, he spotted Artyom and London speaking to each other in hushed whispers. Their backs were turned to him, however, before Ron could approach them; Artyom sensed his presence and turned to face him. Bloody hell, how does he do that? You know what? While we all wait for the sun to come up, I'll ask Artyom to train me a little. I could even impress him further; in this suit, I reckon I could take him. A Duel with Artyom could be fun!

"Everything all right in there, Sir?" London asked, she had a newspaper in her left hand.

"So far so good," Ron replied, feeling more at ease. "What were you two whispering about?"

"Show him," Artyom said.

"Show me what?" Ron asked, accepting the newspaper from London.

"Eulogy," London said softly. "Bottom right."

Ron looked down at the paper, finding the eulogy dedicated to Lord De Luca. Oh, fuck… His heart sank, and he quickly looked away from the grave news. How am I going to tell Blaise about this? Why can't we just catch a break?

"What happened to him?" Ron asked London.

"Hunting accident," London replied, she sounded unconvinced. "He was drunk, and an Erumpent gored him."

"Gored him? An Erumpent?" Ron asked, he couldn't stop worrying about Blaise. "Where did you find this paper?"

"Nigeria," London replied. "Lady Zabini owns an estate there; they were enjoying a very secluded vacation. I'm sorry it took us so long; the lads weren't looking in the right place to begin with." Fuck, that's my fault. I told them to search all of Italy.

"Not your fault," Ron massaged his eyes with his left hand. "What's an Erumpent?"

"Magical Rhino," Artyom said. "Many hunt them to prove themselves worthy."

"The rich have made a sport out of it," London elaborated. "Hunting endangered creatures, that is. An Erumpent's horn carries a valuable, and very dangerous, fluid inside of it. It's highly explosive, and it sells for a high price in places like Knockturn Alley."

"And he was hunting this thing alone?" Ron asked. "Fucking hell… So, he's really dead, then? You found the body?"

"His funeral will take place soon, at his Family's Mausoleum," London replied, making Ron feel even worse.

"Thanks, London," Ron tucked the paper into his inner suit pocket. "Did you find anything on the tree? I'm not trying to rush you, but I need this done soon."

"I'm on it," London said. "Best of luck with the wolves."

"Thanks," Ron said, watching her leave before looking to Artyom.

"What will you do with information?" Artyom asked outright.

"I have to give it to my friend," Ron said, feeling guilty. "The paper, and everything London told me. It's going to be horrible."

"Condolences," Artyom said. Yeah, thanks… This is going to be hard. I'll do it tomorrow, after classes.

"Can we change the topic?" Ron asked, and Artyom gave a nod. "How did you sense me? I didn't even make a sound, but you knew I was behind you."

"I sensed your Magic," Artyom replied, his features hardening. What's with that look?

"Right…" Ron said under his breath. "Well, since we have time to kill, do you reckon you could teach me the basics of sensing Magic?"

"I should be asking you for lessons," Artyom said, confusing Ron.

"Pardon?" Ron blinked repeatedly, trying to figure out what Artyom was on about. "How am I supposed to teach you?"

"Necromancy," Artyom clarified icily, giving Ron reason to go still. The Universe is done playing nice, now she's going to steal my lunch money.

"That was…" Ron tried to think of something. "I have an affinity for the Dark Arts, I can always feel Dark Magic if there is any to be found. That's how I knew-"

"You sensed Alecto and her lover," Artyom reminded Ron. "You knew where everyone was, and when. Do not lie again." He's got me… What the fuck do I say to him, now? I have to put my foot down; I don't trust him yet. Not completely, at least.

"I… can't tell you," Ron said, drawing in a deep breath. "Sorry, mate. I can't tell you how I knew, it's… private…" That was pathetic, Ron. What the fuck was that?

"Do not treat me as fool, I do not trust liars," Artyom warned. "If you wish to keep secrets, I will understand. But at least say so from start, do not act like nervous boy who wet bed." Yeesh, relax. Now, you're just being rude.

"I'll take better care next time," Ron held his cheek in check. "So, can you show me some basics?"

"If that is your order," Artyom gave a nod.

"It is," Ron said. "Go on, tell me what I need to do."

---

Friday 26th February, 1994 (Prosperity Farm (Safe Rooms) – Sunrise)

Much of what Artyom told him, Ron already knew. However, Ron did learn one thing of note tonight; he was a natural at sensing Magic. Artyom had been impressed with Ron's ability to focus in on his own Magic, a trick that Ravenclaw Ron had taught him. Ron's training in Wandless Magic had helped as well, which was gratifying to hear.

They had trained to for a few hours, time had passed by very quickly once Artyom had become serious about teaching him. Once Artyom had nothing left to teach, he had finished by saying 'Always try to sense surrounding, make it habit. Even when alone, keep your guard up'. Ron had decided to give this a try, and he'd start as soon as he was back at Hogwarts.

"They're changing back," Tonks whispered, nudging Ron. "Can you hear it?"

Ron's ears perked up, he could hear bones cracking and realigning from behind closed doors. That sounds really painful, I hope the potions didn't wear off. The staff, mostly the Elves, had sensed the change as well, and were now in the middle of getting towels and robes ready. The Werewolves would be dressed, and then escorted to the mess hall for a hot meal. And then, they can start their new lives.

He couldn't keep his smile off his face, it kept sneaking back on to show everyone how smug he was.

"Tonks, can you do me a favour?" Ron asked.

"Sure," she smiled, her hair turning bright pink.

"Can you go wake up the people downstairs?" Ron asked. "Everyone, that is. Reporters, my parents, Sirius-"

"I've got it," Tonks chuckled, ruffling his hair. Why do people keep doing that? Please, stop. "You ought to get some sleep when you can, or, at least sit down for a bit."

With the, Tonks hurriedly off towards the stairs, leaving Ron behind to oversee the Elves. They didn't look like they needed him, so he tried his best to stay out of their way. One by one, the Elves brought out the shivering and confused Werewolves; they had returned to their human forms. All of them were wrapped in blankets, and the looks on their faces told Ron of how different this was for them. From now on, they're change will nothing more than a bad dream. No more injuries, no more scars. And most importantly, no more infections.

Ron closed his eyes and focused on what was around him, slowly feeling the residual Magic lingering throughout the hallway. It quickly became overwhelming, as Ron was bombarded with the Magic each Elf was exuding whenever they cast their Spells. That was a mistake. Bloody hell, that felt awful.

"Ronald?" Thaddeus called; his frail form was covered by a thick, white robe.

"Good morning, Thaddeus," Ron smiled, inspecting the man as he approached. He's sweating, but other than that, he looks fine. No blood, no new scars. "How do you feel?"

"Strangely refreshed," Thaddeus replied, a smile on his face. "There was no pain, no urge to cause pain. I felt at peace."

"That's good to hear," Ron's smile widened. "You didn't hurt yourself either, did you?"

"Not a scratch," Thaddeus chuckled in disbelief. "This was something else, I can't wait to meet the others."

"That can wait, I want to show you something," Ron beamed, gesturing Thaddeus to follow him towards the stairs.

Their journey down was slow at first, but Thaddeus soon found his footing; eagerly following Ron towards freedom. As they entered the ground floor's greeting room, they were ambushed by bright flashes and loud yells. The mob of journalists were getting in their way, which forced Ron to stop. Where are the guards?

Ron spotted a couple standing behind the crowd, and he waved at them until they shoved their way to the front.

"Let's go, Thaddeus," Ron guided the old man towards the exit, while his mercenaries cleared the way.

"Shouldn't we talk to them?" Thaddeus asked.

"No, they'll make up their own stories anyway," Ron shook his head. "The Quibbler will tell the truth, that's all that matters. Marietta wants to have an exclusive with you, it'd be really helpful if you could sit with her. Tell her your story."

"Of course, anything," Thaddeus agreed with a smile. Gornuk will like the sound of this.

As they stepped into the light, the sun rising before their very eyes; Ron presented the farm to Thaddeus with a grin.

"Tada!" Ron laughed. "This is your new home!"

Thaddeus stood motionless, his eyes wide and his jaw slack. The lavender fields could be seen throughout the land, glowing brightly thanks to the cloudless sky. Beautiful treelines marked the cottage village, and to the left, the blue lake shimmered glamorously.

"We'll get to live here?" Thaddeus managed, his throat tightening.

"That's the plan," Ron confirmed. "This place is all yours, you'll want for nothing here."

While Thaddeus looked back to the landscape, Ron spotted a crowd standing behind him. There were too many faces for Ron to count, all of them glowing because of the golden sunlight.

"Thaddeus, let's get to the mess hall," Ron suggested. "The view is way better from up there."

"The mess hall?" Thaddeus sniffled, making Ron freeze. Oh… That's not what I was going for…

"It's um… That building over there," Ron pointed towards the dome-ceilinged building at the top of the hill. "The one with the purple dome, that's the mess hall. It's 'regal', as Lord Fawley puts it. Real fancy-like. A bit too gaudy for me, but he didn't really consult anyone before finishing it off." Stop rambling, cunt. "Do you want to go up there, the Elves will bring your people via Apparition."

"We're going to walk there?" Thaddeus shivered, looking towards the hill.

"Um… No, of course not," Ron improvised, looking towards his guards. "Oi, mate! Can you come over here?!"

The tanned wizard ran over, Ron couldn't help but notice that the mercenary was very young. Must be just over twenty, how'd he end up here?

"Can you Apparate us to the mess hall?" Ron asked. "The wards are down, right?"

"Yes, we'll have them up as soon as the wolves are in the mess hall," the wizard replied. "Shall we go, now?"

"Thaddeus?" Ron asked.

"Yes, let's," Thaddeus walked over with small steps, wiping at his eyes. Oh, no… Awkward. Still, this feels fucking brilliant. Like I've done something right, for once.

The young mercenary took both of their hands, and within a heartbeat, they were pushed sucked through a thin pipe. Ron had come to loathe Apparition, and he didn't even want to think about how Thaddeus was feeling. The moment their feet touched the ground, Ron felt his legs shake pathetically.

And just like that, he was tumbling to his face.

His ears were ringing, black spots marred his vision. Fuck… My head… It feels so… full… He tried to get up, using his trembling arms to hoist himself up, but they failed him. His forehead was aching, now, making him regret his decision to join Thaddeus and the mercenary.

"Are you all right, my boy?" Thaddeus asked, while the mercenary helped Ron up to his feet. "Ronald?"

"I'm just really tired," Ron lied, his upper lip felt warm and wet.

"Sir, your nose," the mercenary pulled out a handkerchief, placing it under Ron's nose. "It's bleeding." It is? My fucking head feels like it's on fire.

"Ignore me, Thaddeus," Ron said, feeling annoyed for ruining the moment. "Just take a look at the view."

Thaddeus blinked in confusion, but Ron forced himself to move and guide Thaddeus towards the edge of the path. Right, this spot is perfect.

"Just look at that view," Ron said, his voice nasally and muffled thanks to the handkerchief.

Thaddeus eventually did as Ron requested, and once again, he simply went still. Ron decided not to speak this time around, letting Thaddeus take everything in while he cleaned up his bloody nose. Something's really wrong with me. I need to speak to Ravenclaw Ron about this, he has to be the one behind it. I just know it. That bastard brings nothing but trouble.

"I don't know what we've done to deserve this," Thaddeus suddenly sobbed, spooking Ron.

Ron immediately looked back for help, but the mercenary had already put some distance between himself and Ron. You son of a bitch. I'm going to fire you later.

"You've all been through so much," Ron looked back ahead, deciding to man up. Just use your breathing technique, old boy. "All of that suffering was so unnecessary; I couldn't stand that. You do deserve this, and I hope you all choose to live here."

"What about the others?" Thaddeus asked. "The ones who didn't join us?"

"I'll make sure they hear about this place," Ron promised. "We have plans to expand, Lord Fawley can tell you more about that. If you have questions about security, then I'm your man."

Ron had memorized the schedules of his men, it helped to keep track of who was doing what.

"Your nose…" Thaddeus whispered, concern marring his old features. "Is it your conditions?"

"Most likely," Ron replied, not knowing what else to say. "Sorry about the blood-works-"

"No, I am the one who is sorry," Thaddeus put a hand on Ron's shoulder. "You have been sent by the Gods, there is no doubt in my mind."

Ron paused at that; Thaddeus had no idea how correct he was. No, they're just after the Dark Lord. This place is my accomplishment, not theirs.

"Are you hungry?" Ron asked, changing the subject and tucking away the bloody handkerchief. "Is my face clean?"

"It is," Thaddeus replied softly, giving Ron's shoulder a squeeze. "And, yes… I am starving." I'll let him get a hold of himself, first. He should enjoy this on his own, not in front of those reporters. I'll have them cleared out while Thaddeus gets it together.

---

Friday 26th February, 1994 (The Entrance Hall – Breakfast)

Ron stared at his reflection in Slytherin's Hourglass, they sat pretty on one thousand eight hundred and fifty points. The closest second House was Hufflepuff, which sat on seven hundred and eighty points.

Slytherin's chances of winning were absolute, which only widened Ron's smile.

The Werewolf Sanctuary was now a proven success; hundreds more would flock to Prosperity Farm to find a better life. And Ron would deliver. There was no one left to stand in his way, he had the backing of the wealthiest Families of Magical Britain.

His heart swelled at the thought of the Werewolves exploring their new home, he had been forced to come back because of his commitment to his studies. I finally got a win. The Werewolves finally got a win as well. Ron fidgeted in his spot, his excitement playing on his face. Ginny and Luna, I have to find them and tell them first.

Ron schooled his features, fixed up his hair, and then he began making his way inside. The large doors were closed, so Ron was forced to push his way inside. The chatter immediately filled his ears, his fellow students were enjoying Hogwarts' luxurious standard. Ron had to fix his smile again, he was certain that he'd see Remus soon as well. When I tell him, it'll be-

"It's him," someone hushed loudly, starting an avalanche of silence.

Within seconds, the Great Hall had fallen silent; hundreds of eyes were suddenly fixed on him. Um… Where are Ginny and Luna? Ron quickly looked around, spotting his siblings sitting together at the edge of the Gryffindor table. Ron began to move towards them, but from the corner of his vision, he spotted Dumbledore rise up from his chair. Headmaster?

The old wizard was beaming at him, a copy of the Daily Prophet in his hand. It didn't take Ron long to realize that his success had been reported to the Wizarding World. He almost felt envious of the Daily Prophet's efficiency, they knew how to get the word out faster than anyone else. Even The Quibbler. How do I catch up to them?

Dumbledore placed the copy down, and then, much to Ron's surprise; the old wizard began applauding. Ron froze in his spot, wondering what the old man was up to now. Before Ron could do anything, Professor Hagrid shot out of his chair, his large hands joining Dumbledore with thunderous enthusiasm. One by one, the Professors and students joined in, waving their copies at Ron and cheering out uplifting words.

Ron had never felt so caught off-guard, he just stood there like a deer staring at headlights. His eyes darting from table to table, so many were in on this. When… When did they get the chance to plan this? Or, is it spontaneous? Ron looked towards Dumbledore; the old man looked so fucking proud of him.

Ron's heart jumped into his throat, nearly making him choke. The cheers got louder and louder from the Hufflepuff table, while all the first years had taken to banging their cups on the tables and shouting his name.

"We love you, Ron!" Ginny shouted from atop her chair, Luna was jumping waving at him from Ginny's side.

"That was some pure Weasley brilliance, Ronnie," Fred cheered alongside George and Percy.

Ron stared dumbly at his brothers; he hadn't seen Percy so excited in his life. What do I do? Do I… Do I just wave? Wait… No, just… Fucking hell… Ron began playing with his hands, his senses becoming overwhelmed because of the ever-loudening cheers.

It felt as though he had climbed a mountain, and after weeks in the darkness, he had found his way home.

"You're a glorious bastard, Ron!" Theo called out, adding laughter into the mixture. Theo… Think of the House-Points…

Ron's chest tightened painfully; his eyes filled up to the brim. No, don't… Control… Control yourself, please… He couldn't stop the first sob, which did little to stop the kindness of his fellow school-mates. Stop crying, for Merlin's sake.

He tried to look around for anything that could centre him, trying to use his knowledge of Occlumency to his advantage, but even Snape looked pleased, in his own way. The Potions Master wasn't applauding, but through blurry vision, Ron saw the man in black give him a short nod of approval. This is too much!

Ron covered his face before turning around and running away, he couldn't handle feeling so much at once. In his entire life, he had never felt so filled with joy and pain in equal measure. I can't go to any classes, not if everyone is being this… nice.

With his long strides, he was soaring up the stairs within moments; his wet sobs echoing throughout the Moving Staircase. It was all worth it, I fucking saved them! And soon, I'll save Tracey as well!

---

Theodore Nott's POV

Friday 26th February, 1994 (The Seventh Floor – After Classes)

"Why can't you talk to him?" Theo had argued.

"We had a fight, you already know that," Daphne had stated very plainly. "Just do it, for me?"

"It'll be awkward-"

"Don't you finish that sentence, Theodore."

Theo shuddered as he remembered his most recent conversation with the Banshee of Greengrass Manor. She had wanted to talk to her ex herself, but given their rocky relationship; Theo had been selected as Ron's 'shoulder to cry on'.

Theo was truly happy for his friend, why wouldn't he be? But this heart-to-heart nonsense was better coming from a girl. Well, it's not like he can rely on them, anymore. Pansy has too much on her plate, while Millicent would the last person Ron wants around.

Making peace with his situation, Theo paced back-and-forth until Ron's Sanctuary revealed itself. Theo moved inside quickly, sealing the door shut in case any nosey Gryffindor was about. Now, where is he? Probably training. Theo looked around the large room, but Ron was nowhere to be found.

"Over here," Ron called from the fireplace, his back pressed against the foot of the fireplace.

A low flame crackled behind Ron, its glow giving Ron's pale skin and black, Slytherin uniform a golden quality. Wish I had my camera. As Theo made his way over, he spotted Helios perched on Ron's left shoulder; scratching his head against Ron's. A battle of wills? No, they both look peaceful. I think I'm interrupting a moment.

"What are you reading?" Theo asked, taking a seat.

"Just an old copy of The Quibbler," Ron replied, clearing his throat. "The Werewolf article, to be more specific. I was thinking about how I got started on the whole thing."

"It was a long journey," Theo smiled properly, putting Ron at ease.

"It was mental," Ron chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "But I finally did it, Theo. I kept my promise." Good on you, mate.

"Don't know much about Werewolves, but we're all really happy for you," Theo said, nudging Ron's foot with his. "The whole school is talking about you, especially the ladies." Theo then smirked; he couldn't help himself. "Ron, we're going to be going through witches like Bertie Bott's Beans!"

"I think I'll avoid that disaster," Ron said, smiling without a care.

"What disaster?" Theo scoffed.

"The one where a bunch of witches murder you for being unfaithful," Ron replied too readily.

"Such a waste," Theo said disapprovingly. "Don't worry, though; I know how to use your popularity. I'll make us famous-"

"I'm already famous," Ron sniggered, looking like his old self again.

"You're making this impossible," Theo said, deciding to press on. "Anyway, how are you doing, mate? Professor Snape was looking for you during Potions this morning. He asked us to send you his way."

"Yeah, Potions… I fell asleep," Ron admitted, looking slightly guilty. "I was awake all night, and then… Everyone had to go and do that…"

"That?" Theo grinned. "Oh, that was brilliant! The old loon really knows how to bring people together, I think he was hoping for you to show up when you did!"

"It wasn't planned?" Ron asked, and Theo immediately shook his head.

"No, none of us had any idea," Theo replied honestly. "It just happened; though, the whole school was already talking about you. The Daily Prophet-"

"Cuffe," Ron cut in. "Barnabas Cuffe, he wrote the piece himself." So, he's read it for himself?

"Yes, because he understands that you're Magical Britain's golden boy, now," Theo said, and Ron nodded along. "I'm telling you, Ron; you could turn yourself into a brand! Just think of all the gold!"

"No, that's too… out in the open… for me," Ron declined, chuckling to himself at the end.

"Just think about it," Theo kicked Ron's foot again.

"Okay, okay," Ron laughed, moving his foot away from Theo.

They both sat in silence for a few moments, with Theo waiting for Ron to say something. He's in a good mood, and that should-

"Why aren't you at the study group?" Ron suddenly asked.

"Why aren't you?" Theo asked in response. Why are you living up here? We barely ever see you.

"After what I did, I can't show my face ever again," Ron said, he was definitely embarrassed. "I ran off crying, like a little girl-"

"Exactly like one, yes," Theo nodded.

"Cunt," Ron clicked his tongue, while Theo just smirked. "I shouldn't have started crying like that, it was pathetic…"

"Not according to Pansy," Theo decided to mentor Ron once again. "Mate, every girl in Hogwarts teared up, I fucking teared up. I had to steal Tori's handkerchief out of her hand, it was a very touching moment."

"Shut up," Ron's ears were turning red. "Fucking Dumbledore… He set me up."

"Probably," Theo agreed. "You two are friends, aren't you?" Should I really dig for information right now? Behave yourself, Theo.

"Sort of," Ron replied. "It depends on the day." That literally means nothing, he brushed me off. "You never answered my question, mate. Why aren't you at the study group?"

"Daphne sent me here," Theo admitted easily enough. "We were worried about you, but we figured that you'd still attend your study group. When we got there, you still hadn't shown up, so Daphne asked me to find you."

"She didn't want to come herself?" Ron asked.

"You two had a fight," Theo said, and Ron nodded to himself.

"I was complete prat," Ron said, and Helios hooted. "Oi, I'm the one who feeds you."

Helios hooted again, flapping his wings and flying over to Theo; planting himself on the armrest. Mind the talons!

"Was this fight about Millicent?" Theo asked, and Ron paused. "I'll take that as a resounding 'yes'."

"She thinks I'm being unfair to Millicent by reaching out to Crabbe and Goyle," Ron explained. "Can you believe that?"

"Why are you helping Crabbe and Goyle?" Theo had to ask. "Ron, they're so fucking stupid-"

"And you're smart enough to know what is in store for them, aren't you?" Ron challenged. "Don't be like that, Theo; their lives are in danger. I can't ignore that, and neither should you." Uh-oh, he'll start ranting soon.

"I get it," Theo said quickly. "It's big of you to worry about them, and I'm willing to help you. Just be careful, we don't know anything about them. That's what we're all worried about."

"Malfoy changed, so they can too," Ron sounded convinced. "Draco… I should call him Draco." No, you shouldn't. He'll hate it.

"So, Daphne doesn't want you to help Crabbe and Goyle?" Theo asked.

"I don't think so," Ron replied. "I think she wants me to forgive Millicent, to pretend like everything is all right. I haven't said a thing to her since I got back, but Daphne is acting like I'm out to upset Millicent."

"That's a little unfair," Theo had to admit. "Millicent made her choice; she has to be the one to rectify it."

"Thank you," Ron said, sounding a little frustrated. "Finally, someone who isn't insane."

"Is this why you've become a hermit?" Theo asked, looking around the room. "You don't want to be around Millicent and Daphne?"

"I just don't want to deal with everyone's problems, anymore," Ron shrugged. "I'm still going support Slytherin, I can't afford not to. But I don't want to be in the middle of it." I don't really get it. "It's hard to explain."

"What about us?" Theo asked on behalf of the group. "Ron, we've barely seen you since you've been back. You only come out for classes, in which you barely participate, or, you come down for the training session, most of which end with you running off again. What was the point in coming back if you don't want to spend any time with us?" Ease up, Theo. You're sounding a little too sensitive for a Nott.

"It's not like that," Ron started. "Well, it sort of is, but it's not because of you, Theo. I don't be around her-"

"Millicent," Theo asked, and Ron nodded.

"Daphne also has expectations of me, she's still behaving like we're a couple," Ron shared his thoughts. "You know when she gets really bossy?" I haven't forgotten how I got here, no.

"All too well, mate," Theo went along.

"I just need a break," Ron said. "This year has been the longest, most difficult piece of shit year, and I'm over it. I want to be left alone to do what needs to be done."

"You can't run Slytherin from up here," Theo tried. "Not indefinitely."

"This isn't permanent," Ron assured Theo. "I'll come back down once I've had time to adjust. My whole life has changed, people are acting like I'm some hero all of a sudden… I need time to think." I tried, but it's clear that he'll come back only when he's ready.

"Well, you let me know if you need anything," Theo stood up, deciding to return to the study group. "And come down for the study group next week. Otherwise, I won't see any need to attend myself."

"Sure, Theo," Ron looked up with a smile. "I'll see you later. Tell Pansy, if she's still around, that I'll talk to her after she comes back. I'm ready for my haircut."

---

Pansy Parkinson's POV

Friday 26th February, 1994 (Gringotts Wizarding Bank – After Classes)

The Goblin with the large nose kept going on and on about her many holdings, listing all of her inherited assets from the longest piece of parchment Pansy had ever seen. Carbey, the Parkinson Head-Elf, sat to Pansy's right, eagerly listening and nodding along with the Goblin.

Her mother had been pronounced missing by the Ministry, and with her father murdered; Pansy had become Lady Parkinson, until her mother was found. All of her parents' wealth was now hers; this was the one and only act of kindness they had ever shown their daughter.

The Goblins didn't seem pleased with this outcome, but Pansy knew that they despised handing over gold to wizards. She had been trained from an early age, mostly by her mother, to manage estates and other such assets, however, her understanding was very limited. Carbey had been named her 'Guardian' until she became of age, he would overlook most of the paperwork while Pansy finished up her education.

The Goblins were particularly displeased about dealing with an Elf, as Elves always prioritized their Master's best interests. They weren't susceptible to bribes, and Pansy had known Carbey since she was in diapers.

"Is Mistress listening to Mr. Griphook?" Carbey interrupted her thoughts. No, he's boring me.

"Sorry, Carbey," Pansy let out a long sigh. "I'm just very overwhelmed, that's all."

"Of course, Mistress," Carbey nodded in understanding. "Mr. Griphook, Carbey shall return tomorrow, to finish up these affairs. Mistress needs time to adjust."

"Very well," Griphook frowned at Pansy. Don't be rude, I just lost my parents.

Was she really grieving over their loss, though?

Pansy decided not to think about that.

"Let's go, Carbey," Pansy stood up. "Professor Snape is waiting for me, and I don't want to get into any trouble." What am I going to do, now? I don't know the first thing about being a proper Lady.

Carbey led the way out, and once they were on their way to the main lobby; the Elf stopped her by tugging at her school robes.

"Mistress, a moment?" Carbey asked, bowing his head.

"What is it?" Pansy asked, half-distracted.

"Mistress should have this," Carbey Conjured a silver brooch, it was riddled with pearls and sapphires. OH!

"Is this for me?!" Pansy asked excitedly, surprising Carbey a little.

"Mistress… Please, be more mindful," Carbey advised, stopping Pansy. "Carbey knows of Lord and Lady Parkinson's poor treatment of Mistress, but Mistress must not let the Wizarding World see her so happy. It is improper."

Lord and Lady Parkinson weren't particularly liked, even by their own Elves and daughter. Hardly surprising, mother was a bitter hag who enjoyed hitting me, and father didn't care enough to stop her.

"You're right…" Pansy still felt a pang of guilt. "And I'm… I am sad about them, but they… Merlin, Carbey, they found father at some Dark Orgy! I can't even look my friends in the eye, anymore!"

"Mistress, please," Carbey whispered gently, placing the brooch in her palm. "Carbey will attempt to repair the Parkinson Family's good name, but the work shall only begin once Mistress returns from Hogwarts." The work?

"What work?" Pansy asked hesitantly. "I'm nothing like mother and father, people will see that-"

"People see whatever people want, Mistress," Carbey warned. True…

"We'll talk about later," Pansy said, she didn't want to deal with her parents' mess right now. "I'm assuming that you want me home for the Easter Break?" Please, say no. I want to spend it with Daphne and Tori-

"Thank you, Mistress," Carbey bowed deeply once again. "Carbey shall await Mistress' return most eagerly." Yay…

"Let's go?" Pansy asked, and Carbey began leading the way. "Are you going to tell me where you got this beautiful brooch? I haven't seen it before." I would have nicked it if I had.

"It belonged to Lady Parkinson, Mistress' grandmother," Carbey replied. So, father's mother? I never knew her.

"You're that old?" Pansy asked instead, inspecting the Elf. "I had no idea, Carbey-"

"Mistress is mistaken," Carbey gave her a dull look. "Carbey was bought by Lord Parkinson before the Great War, Mistress knows this." I do? I never did pay much attention to Carbey's lessons.

"I'm really Lady Parkinson, then?" Pansy asked, slowly attaching the brooch to her robe's collar. This'll catch everyone's eye! I should also get a new haircut to match my new brooch!

"Be careful," Carbey said, shooting a quick glance back. "Mistress' wealth will attract vultures around her; Mistress must remain vigilant."

"I trust you to watch out for vultures, Carbey," Pansy said, looking around the main lobby. "There's Professor Snape-"

"Pansy," came a familiar voice, surprising Pansy. "My word, girl, it has been too long."

"Lord Yaxley," Pansy turned to her right, the man had already made his way over to her. "What a pleasant surprise." He caused Ron a lot of stress. I should get away from this creep.

"Lord Yaxley, Mistress must return to Hogwarts," Carbey stepped in quickly. "This meeting must-"

"Why are you here, child?" Lord Yaxley asked. "I hope there's no trouble."

"You already know why I'm here," Pansy said, feeling safe because of how crowded Gringotts was. "You've read The Quibbler, haven't you?"

"Yes… You have my condolences," Lord Yaxley said, looking genuinely sorry. "I am sorry for my act of ignorance, I simply wished to offer you my help. I've raised a Ward before, his name is Felix-"

"I'm Lady Parkinson, now," Pansy interjected, she didn't want to be his daughter! Carbey, blast him away! He's ruining my aura!

"Clearly," Lord Yaxley said, his eyes darting towards her brooch. "Your mother wore that on her wedding day, I remember the ceremony quite fondly."

"You knew my father well?" Pansy asked, hoping to trap him.

"Not so well, I'm afraid," Lord Yaxley shook his head, letting out a tired sigh. "Who knew that he was such a… troubled soul." You were probably there! Ugh… I'm leaving.

"Mistress," Carbey looked to her for permission, a Jinx ready on his fingers.

"I meant no offence," Lord Yaxley stood unfazed.

"And none was taken," Pansy turned to leave. "Carbey, let's go."

She didn't wait for parting words, heading straight towards Snape. The Potions Master was staring at her, his eye moving between her and Lord Yaxley. He was watching, but didn't intervene? Thanks for nothing, Sir.

"Did he make you an offer?" Snape asked.

"Yes, Sir," Pansy replied. "I refused him, of course. Being near him makes my skin crawl."

"You are not alone in feeling this way," Snape said, sounding almost pleased. This is a nice change. If I can get along with him, I can have more privileges! "You are Lady Parkinson, now?"

"I am," Pansy gave a nod. "It's… surreal. I don't really know where to go from here-"

"Mistress," Carbey tugged at her robe, cautioning restraint. Shhhh. I'm trying to win him over.

"I can trust him, Carbey," Pansy assured the Elf.

"Indeed, Elf," Snape frowned down at Carbey, who glared up defiantly. "Go on, girl." Girl? That's progress!

Pansy had to remind herself to be sombre; she was being so disrespectful to the dead. Not like they showed you any respect, Pansy. They were bad people, who died doing bad deeds.

"I'm just going to get through my classes, for now," Pansy told the man. "And during the Easter Break, Carbey is going to teach me about managing my assets."

"I am a skilled mathematician," Snape said, shooting another glance at Carbey. "If the Elf proves insufficient, you may come to me for help. I run a large potion delivery network, so I have some skill in growing businesses, as well." Pansy Parkinson, Professor Snape's favourite girl! That was too easy!

"I'd like that," Pansy smiled politely. "Thank you, Sir."

Carbey shook his head, tugging at her robes again.

"Carbey must return to Parkinson Manor, Mistress," Carbey told her. "Carbey must get the manor in order for Mistress' return."

"Oh, off you go, then," Pansy waved at him. "I'll see you soon, Carbey!"

"Mistress, volume," Carbey gave her a meaningful look. Yes, yes… I'm very sad they're gone, I totally wanted to be sold off like some goat when mother was ready for grandbrats.

Pansy decided not to think of them again, at least not for now. She wanted to focus on the better aspects of her life today. Ron had inspired her, and many others, with his heroic actions. As of this morning, Pansy wanted nothing more than to join his expanding alliance. Carbey wants me to be 'The Lady Parkinson', but that's just dull. The Old Ways are dull. Why can't I wear skirts if I want to? Why do I have to let some old man tell me what to do for the rest my life? No, that's never going to happen. I'm going to become famous! Just like Ron, I know he'll help me if I offer to help him in return! We can become icons of Witch Weekly!

The future was finally looking bright for Pansy Parkinson, she just had to get through Carbey's long-winded lessons, first.

---

Corban Yaxley's POV

Friday 26th February, 1994 (Yaxley Manor – Night)

Robert's pacing was beginning to grate Corban's nerves; the man had become entirely restless ever since Gaspard was left in charge.

"Robert, just sit down," Corban said, reaching his limit. "Salazar's grave, what is the matter with you, good man?" We don't have time to fret like children, awaiting punishment.

"The Dark Lord has cast us out," Robert reminded them all.

Felix, Cornelius, Thorfinn, and Arcturus sat together in Corban's living room, enjoying a night away from prying eyes and invasive questions.

"And yet, he took Lucius," Arcturus pointed out, looking towards Corban. "Care to explain this to us, Corban?"

"The Dark Lord does not trust him," Corban told them. "He is the one who has been cast out, we have been spared our Master's wrath."

"What rubbish," Thorfinn grumbled. "Our friends are dead, our reputations have been tarnished, and now, the Dark Lord has left us. The Pure-World is gone…"

Thorfinn's words stung Corban, but the Dark Wizard's ambitions would not be drowned so easily. We are alive, and until that changes; Purity still exists. It lives on through us, and through our children.

"This Weasley boy," Arcturus started. "Who is he? Everywhere I go, I hear his name. Even the Dark Lord is infatuated with him."

"Accursed boy," Robert growled, nearly knocking a vase over. "He is a plague-"

"I would advise caution, my Lord," Felix cut in. "My Occlumency is not as honed as yours."

Corban gestured Robert to sit down, and this time, he listened.

"I only see one path forward for us, gentlemen," Arcturus said. "We must ally ourselves with Mr. Weasley."

"Never," Thorfinn hissed.

"How would this help us?" Robert asked, while Felix and Cornelius remained silent.

"Arcturus is not wrong," Corban had to admit. "It would help us get close to him, which would please our Master. Not to mention the boy's growing fame, he has become more powerful than all of us combined. We cannot even leave our homes without being followed."

"He's dying, isn't he?" Cornelius asked. "He won't get in our way for much longer-"

"You underestimate our Master, my friend," Corban was quick to shut down Cornelius. They must wake up to what's happened to us, we cannot afford such an enemy at this moment. That boy's 'Quibbler' is dangerous, and he has made himself the face of British Youth. Our chances of stopping him are long gone, we must embrace him if we are to survive.

"My Lord, did you not tell me that the boy hates us?" Felix asked.

"He does," Corban nodded to himself. And he wants us dead, I could hear it in his voice. "This is a gamble, one that we will likely lose."

"I say we forgo this embarrassment," Robert said. "I will not kiss some boy's ring, especially not the same boy who's hurt my daughter." He's become too emotionally attached; Ronald has made an enemy for life in Robert.

"He has to be taught his place," Thorfinn joined in. "Cornelius, are you with us?"

"I must tend to my own," Cornelius escaped taking a side, as usual. "Theodore has to be prepared for his new role. I believe I will be influencing Ronald soon enough, so I don't see any need to join you."

They all exchanged looks, but none of them said anything. Cornelius will not succeed in this, the drunk. He is too foolish to carry out such an important task.

"Felix?" Corban looked to his Ward. "Where do you stand?"

"With you, my Lord," Felix was quick to reply. Thank you, son.

"Then, we will approach Mr. Weasley together," Arcturus said, sounding a little too authoritative.

"No, Arcturus, you will approach him alone," Corban said, feeling irked. "He despises me, he attempted to destroy Robert and his Family, he has seen Thorfinn and Felix at my side, and Cornelius has chosen to focus on his own work. This leave you, my friend."

"I see…" Arcturus looked around the circle, his eyes not betraying a single thought. "I accept this responsibility, then."

"Just like that, my Lord?" Felix asked.

"You have all left me no choice," Arcturus smiled at Corban, alarming him slightly. "Corban is right, I am your only hope if this plan is to work." I have shed more tears for his kin than he has. What an insect, always picking for an advantage.

Corban closed his eyes and focused on the future; he could save this country, even now. The children are the answer, girls like 'Lady Parkinson'. Even Mr. Crabbe and Goyle need to be brought into the fold. They will create the Pure-World, and we will help them.

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Saturday 27th February, 1994 (St. Mungo's – Early Morning)

Ron was still wearing his pyjamas, his glove hanging loosely off of his hand.

He yawned, still half-asleep, his body swaying from side to side. Daphne had sent Marty to wake him up for the birth of his godson, and even then, Ron had barely made it in time. His siblings were a little annoyed, but everyone was too tired to be snappy. This was good too, because their mother was bearing down on them with never ending scrutiny. They had to be on their best behaviour, tonight.

Pandora had gone into labour in the middle of the night, but by now, she was probably resting with her baby. Ron, his siblings, the Golden Trio, and Daphne were summoned at sunrise, as soon as St. Mungo's allowed visitors, and now, they all sat in the waiting room. Mary was watching over them, while Lord Greengrass sat across from the children.

Bill and Charlie had left with Sirius, they wanted to go buy an expensive bottle of whiskey to celebrate a boy. Oddly enough, Kirsten had remained behind, opting to watch over the children with a very sleepy Remus.

"Ron, can I talk to you?" Hermione suddenly whispered from behind him. Merlin… Bloody hell.

"Sure…" Ron turned around, drawing in a deep breath. I need to calm down. The baby and Pandora are both fine.

"Are you okay? Why were you so late?" Hermione asked.

Ron spotted Daphne in the corner of his vision; she didn't look pleased with Hermione. Oh, come on…

"I was really tired," Ron replied, he wasn't lying. "I'm fine, Hermione-"

"Why didn't you come to the study group?" Hermione asked. "Or, Potions Class?"

"Um…" Ron looked towards Harry and Neville; they were both asleep. Cunts, help me. "Hermione, everyone was… I cried." There, I've embarrassed myself again.

"Aw, that was so sad," Hermione hopped closer to him, resting her elbows on the back of his chair. What's she wearing? A pink cottony overall?

He backed up a little, looking her over properly. She was talking very quickly, her unruly hair was shooting out comically, but she was talking so excitedly that Ron couldn't look away from her face. Her teeth are so even. Could I use Magic to change my teeth? Make my canines longer, for biting purposes.

"Ronald," Hermione waved in his face. "Did you hear me?"

"Oh… No, sorry," Ron cleared his throat, feeling his ears go red.

He was just distracted, his arm was stinging slightly, and sleep was biting at his ankles.

"So, Harry and Neville came to fetch from the study group yesterday, they had left early, you see," Hermione restarted, speaking very excitedly. "And guess who we run into on our way out?"

"Dumbledore," Ron guessed, smiling without realizing.

"No, Professor Snape," Hermione gives the answer away, her tone playfully ominous.

"What did he do?" Ron asked, feeling tense. I didn't go to his class; he's going to fuck me up for that.

"He looked me over, I was so scared," Hermione began smiling. "And then, he says 'Immaculate Uniform, Miss. Granger. Ten points to Gryffindor'. It was so mental-!"

"He did that?" Ron sat up straighter. "Really?" He listened to me? Even after I broke a chair on his back? Well, fuck me.

"Harry and Neville were in shock," Hermione giggled. "Harry was sure that Professor Snape was an imposter, he even tried to follow him into the Dungeons!"

Ron nodded to himself as he listened; he was feeling very proud of his favourite Professor. I should apologize when I can, make my peace with him. His Numbing Balm is a life-saver, even if it keeps wearing off too quickly. If I can learn to weaken my Magic whenever I cast, I could use a weak Torpor just for my forearm. I just hope it won't fuck up my casting hand.

"What are you two talking about?" Ginny popped up by Ron's side. "Percy is forcing me to be quiet, I got bored."

"Ginny, we're in a hospital," Ron shushed her, while Hermione shook her head.

"Where's Luna?" Hermione asked.

"Mr. Lovegood took her to see the baby, first," Ginny pouted. "Sorry, Ron, but you weren't chosen."

"Still jealous of me?" Ron smirked.

"Still jealous of me," Ginny mimicked his voice, making him sound slow in the head. "No, I'm not, because I'm still her God-Aunty."

"There's no such thing," Hermione scoffed.

"Listen to her, she's smarter than you," Ron said blandly, and Ginny knocked her knee against his. She's so bony! It feels like she bloody stabbed me!

"Ow, Ginny! I'll pinch you!" Ron threatened.

"Ronald Weasley?" a Medi-Witch cut in, slowly approaching with her face behind her clipboard.

Her frog-like eyes looked over the clipboard, however, which was rather disturbing, as she kept looking between Ron and Ginny. Those are some judgemental eyes.

"Yes, can I help you?" Ron stood up.

"Room 519, just down the hallway," the witch said, clicking her tongue. "Don't make any more noise, young man."

"He helped build this place," Ginny cocked an eyebrow. Oi, don't use my name in vain.

"Don't be rude," Ron scolded his sister. "Sorry about her, Ma'am-"

"Ma'am?" the witch's eyes shot open, the clipboard no doubt hiding her shocked features. Huh?

"Um… Sir…?" Ron muttered, looking the witch over. "… Sorry… I didn't…"

"Ma'am is for older women, Ron…" Hermione spoke from behind the chair's back. Is she hiding her face?

The Medi-Witch clicked her tongue again, irking Ron a little.

"Rude boy," she huffed, walking away without another word. What…?

"I… Crazy lady…" Ron muttered under his breath.

He could hear Ginny sniggering behind his back, and Hermione was quickly joining her; leaving Ron even more irked. I meet the worst sort of people.

"Shut up, this is a hospital," Ron said to Ginny, leaving when she wouldn't stop laughing. Room 519… I'm coming, Lysander. Or, whatever you're called…

"Ron, are you going to the baby?" Daphne quickly moved to his side.

Ron stopped, looking between her and the hallway.

"Um… Yes," Ron replied. "I have to go-"

"Can I come as well?" Daphne asked, her lips pressed thinly together. Her hands are behind her back, she's fidgeting. "I'm falling asleep, and I really want to see the baby." First?

"I'll ask," Ron couldn't deny her this. "Come with me."

"Thanks," Daphne drew in a sharp breath, waiting for him to lead the way.

They moved quickly and quietly, darting past the newly fitted doors until they reached room 519. Ron felt his limbs shiver from anticipation, could he hold the baby tonight? He was definitely going to ask.

His mind kept jumping back to the vision he had seen, the one showing Lysander's early demise. Before fire had rained from the sky, the baby boy had looked healthy and happy. He was so chubby, sitting on Luna's scrawny leg. I'm surprised she didn't fall over. He was smiling, and he knew it.

Who wouldn't smile right now?

"I'll go in and ask, wait here," Ron said, opening the door and slinking inside. Should I, though?

He closed the door and made his way further inside, his eyes peeled for movement. There was a large curtained bed, with shadows moving about on the other side. He could see two beds, one large and one small. Mother and son. His heart in his throat, Ron slowly approached the curtains.

"Ron?" his father called, and Ron turned to see the man waiting in the corner.

He had a jug of water in his hand, and a fresh new glass for Pandora.

"How is she?" Ron asked, looking back towards the curtain. "She wasn't hurt, was she?"

"No, it all went accordingly," Arthur said, walking over to Ron. "Your mother never gave birth so easily; she would fight the entire hospital staff before she was done."

Ron didn't know what to say to that, he just knew that he didn't want to be bitter.

"Can Daphne come in?" Ron asked.

"Daphne?" Arthur looked around. "Oh… She's outside, is she?"

"She wants to see the baby," Ron explained. "She's… She should be here; it'd mean a lot to me."

"Ronnie, I know that," Arthur said, looking disparaged. "And don't be so formal… Of course, she can join us."

"Okay," Ron decided to let his father fetch Daphne, taking the water from him with a wave of his hand.

"Ron… Careful with that, please," Arthur muttered, eyeballing the floating jug and glass.

"She's right outside," Ron said, pushing past the curtain. Where is he?

His mother, Luna, and Xeno sat sleeping beside Pandora, who was watching her baby with a content expression. Ron treaded carefully, though why, even he wasn't sure. Step by step, he moved closer; until finally, he could look at the little bundle lying wide-awake in his bed. A boy…

The baby was covered by a Ravenclaw blue blanket, his angelic face staring up at the Magic-paint moving ceiling. When Ron appeared in his vision, the baby blew empty air before turning his head.

"Hello," Ron whispered, sending the water towards Pandora's side-drawer. Lysander, is that your name? "I'm your godfather…"

Ron looked back towards Pandora, she was just smiling at him. She looks a bit sweaty, is she all right?

"Lysander," Pandora whispered. "My father's name." Her father?

"I'm your godfather, Lysander," Ron looked back to the baby, his fingers lightly grazing the thin, golden hair on Lysander's head.

Lysander continued to stare, his expression a mixture of awe and bewilderment.

Ron had never seen something so precious before, something truly worth protecting. I can't hold him; he's tucked away so-

"Put your fingers under the blanket," Pandora whispered, as if she'd read his mind. "Don't worry, keep one hand under his head. Gently. Hold him close to your chest."

Ron did as she instructed, slowly lifting the gurgling baby into his arms. He's so light. Ron's heart dropped a little, so he looked to Pandora for answers.

"He's very light," Ron whispered. What did mum do for me and Ginny when we were attached to her hip?

Ron began to rock Lysander softly, causing the tiny thing to burp.

"You're good with him already," Pandora's lethargic smile widened. "I'm glad…"

"Pandora? Are you all right?" Ron asked.

"I didn't take any potions," Pandora replied. "I'm sore, and very tired, but I couldn't sleep."

"Why not?" Ron whispered, still rocking.

"I had to look at him," Pandora's eyes focused on Lysander, who was now tucked away in Ron's hold. "The Healers say that he'll be okay…"

"What about you?" Ron asked again. "Pandora-"

"Ron, I just passed another person through me," Pandora stopped him. "I'm just exhausted, that's all." Oh… Why make it gross, though? "Look behind you, someone else is here."

Ron turned around very slowly, spotting Daphne and his father standing by the curtains.

"Is he awake?" Daphne whispered, stepping on her toes to see Lysander.

"Come here," Ron smiled down at the distracted baby, heading over to Daphne himself. "Daphne Greengrass, meet Lysander Lovegood; my godson."

Daphne pulled the blanket back gently, exposing Lysander's face completely. He just kept staring in all directions, and Ron couldn't help but wonder what his godson was thinking about at this very moment. Probably how handsome his godfather is.

"Hello, Lysander," Daphne cooed. "Welcome to the world." Yes, welcome…

Ron felt some dread creep into his bones, but as he fastened his hold on Lysander; he found that he could keep himself centred. My godson, my responsibility. Daphne was busy introducing Lysander to the Wizarding World, excitedly explaining what wizards were. Arthur had moved over to Pandora's side, finally delivering a glass of water to the weakened mother.

As he stood there, Lysander in his hand and Daphne's voice resonating in his ears, Ron felt truly blessed.

And perhaps, even a little grateful for the Elders' intervention.

"It's your birthday on Monday," Daphne looked up with a smile. "You two can have shared birthday parties, Ron. Isn't that exciting?" I'll be fourteen, soon. I don't feel fourteen, though... I feel older. Much older.

Ron had almost forgotten, to him it was just another day at this point. But sharing my birthdays with Lysander, that could be fun. Ron smiled fully, rocking Lysander ever so gently. Never thought I'd look forward to sharing my birthday with anyone, but with Lysander... I can't wait!

"I'm a godfather, Daph," Ron told Daphne.

"He has no idea how lucky he is," Daphne's smile became softer. "You're going to be brilliant at this, Ron." I hope so, I'm going to try my best.

"I'll give you everything," Ron lifted Lysander up to his lips, kissing the baby's temple. "I promise." You'll never want for anything, that'll be my first birthday present to you.

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: As you can see, I am not dead! I hope you guys enjoyed that, sorry for the long delay! Problems had to be solved, and I'm slow...

Check out the discord, Avatar Vader and Acnelli arranged a writing fest for Fate there. You can read those fan-written stories on AO3, go through discord coz I can't post links here.

I cut out what I started on the Dueling Tournament, though it's gonna stay the same. Ending it here feels better for this sort of chapter, the good guys needed a win.

Oh, and three million words in two years! We broke records! (I think)