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.

133. Chapter 133 - Aftermath

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Chapter 133 is back up, I took it down to for re-upload purposes, as I wasn't personally pleased with how it turned out the first time. So, here it is, again, but longer, with many edits, especially near the first half. It moves the plot along now, and starts the Ilvermorny Arc, in essence.

Also, sorry for the takedown, and then re-upload, it doesn't ping people when I edit the existing file. This is the only way I can let the people who favourite and/or follow the story, but aren't on discord, about the re-upload.

Enjoy!

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

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

There's also another Ron story out that's really good so far! It's called 'There and Back Again', and it's written by Chuchi Otaku. Please, go check it out! I've certainly enjoyed reading it!

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Fate

Chapter 133 - Aftermath

Ronald Weasley's POV

Sunday 14th March, 1994 (The Sanctuary – Evening)

Ron wasn't even surprised by what he had just read; the Bulstrodes wanted their daughter to begin spying on her friends. All of us. Not just me, but all of us. The fucking nerve… Bloody slavers.

This was an initiation, plain and simple, and it was so on the nose that even Millie had become startled, shocked by her father's outright command to betray the trust of her friends. I knew this was coming. She's old enough to start earning her inheritance, and they'll keep asking more and more from her until she becomes just as foul as them. Well, that's their plan, anyway. It's a shame that they haven't really accounted for me.

"I'm not going to do it," Millie said suddenly, she looked a lot less tense than before. That's good to know, but perhaps this is exactly what I need to trap those two? I need to think about this, bring it up to Professor Snape as well, for good measure. He's good at this sort of work.

"Will they accept that?" Ron asked her, handing the letter back.

She took it reluctantly, roughly tucking it out of sight. I could feed them false information through Millie, which will give me a massive advantage. Imagine choosing how your opponent moves about the board. Could be brilliant.

"I'm not going to do it," Millie repeated, shaking her head. "It's not right, and they have to know that. They never taught me to behave in such a dishonourable fashion-"

"They're teaching you, right at this very moment," Ron cut in, and Millie's eyes widened a little. Naïve; she's in for a rough awakening. "It's time to earn that inheritance you're looking forward to, Mills; one piece of information at a time."

"Betraying my friends' trust and privacy is how I have to earn my future?" Millie muttered, her gaze slowly falling. "Gods… You were right, Ron…"

"A rare occurrence," Ron whispered to himself.

"Pardon? Did you say something?" Millie looked back up, destressed.

"Haven't you ever wondered why your parents don't get along with the other Pure-Bloods, even those they call their allies?" Ron asked, deciding to impart some necessary knowledge. "Why is it that there is this sense of animosity between all of them? A sense of rivalry and envy? Have you ever given that any thought? Even in my alliance, I can feel this constant sense of competition, as if I need to fight to keep my place on the table."

Millie nodded slowly, thinking back to her childhood. C'mon, you already know all of this. Why can't you just come to terms with it?

"I never really brought it up," Millie started. "But yes, I've questioned why my parents constantly try to outshine their friends."

"It's because their parents taught them to spy on their friends, to invade the privacy of others in order to exploit every possible advantage," Ron explained. "They're going to teach you to become like them; bitter and full of hatred for anyone different from yourself. This letter they just sent you; it's your first test, Mills, and it only gets worse from here. Right now, they want you to spy on us. What will they ask of you tomorrow? Or, in a few months?"

Millie drew in a shaky breath; her hands clenching into bone-white fists on her lap. She looked scared, terrified even. It gave Ron no pleasure to paint this picture for her; he didn't want any of his friends to suffer in any way, but this had to be done. If he didn't warn her, if he didn't offer her his help; she'd fall right into the Dark Lord's slimy hands.

She would become his slave, just like her parents. Can I really do that, though? Regardless of how much she loves her parents; she still endangered hundreds of lives-

Ron's thoughts came to a jarring stop, who was he to judge her? Unlike her one poor decision; Ron's repeated errors had led to actual deaths. That fucking Venom Sac… What a disaster… Ron felt as though a bucket of ice-cold water had been tipped over his head, leaving him with a sense of disillusionment. All of the good deeds in the world couldn't wash off the innocent blood on his hands, nor could they unbreak his heart. I promised myself that I wouldn't indulge my feelings anymore, and I have to stick to that promise. The Cycles need to end with me, this torture has gone on long enough.

"If you want my help, then you have it," Ron said, looking back to the fire; remembering the worlds he had watched burn at the Dark Lord's hands. I have to stop that mad fuck, and the best way to do that is to stand between him and everyone else. I have to bear it, so none of them have to. That's my duty as the Champion of Fate.

"Y… You'd help me?" Millie asked slowly, her fists unclenching. "Even after-"

"You made a mistake," Ron said simply, making peace with his decision. "And again, no one got hurt-"

"But-"

"I'm giving you what you want," Ron put an end to it. "Just accept, there's no need for a discussion." She must be feeling quite guilty if she's trying to talk me out of helping her. She really needs to stop wearing her heart on her sleeve, it makes her vulnerable.

Millie sat in silence for nearly a minute, her eyes glued to Ron, who, for the most part, ignored her staring. She has to accept it, because she stands no chance against her parents without me. They're not going to accept her decision, because in their eyes; she's their property. Fucking twisted cunts, the lot of them-

A sudden sniffle interrupted his thoughts, and Ron nearly groaned out of sheer annoyance. Was she crying? Why? She had gotten what she wanted, hadn't she? She'd thrown his goodwill in his face, exiled herself out of self-inflicted guilt, thus turning Daphne against him, and now; he had offered her his aid once again without even asking for an apology.

She'd gotten away with her betrayal, so why the fuck was she crying?

Ron sneered in her direction, physically stopping himself from reaching forward and smacking her in the face. Breathe, Ron, you've done enough damage. Millie was staring at her lap, now, and as such; she hadn't noticed his anger with her. She was just sobbing her heart out, fat tears dropping onto her lap as she used her sleeve to wipe her snotty nose.

It was a sorry sight, which in turn soothed Ron enough to stop sneering. Blimey, look at her… She sounds like she's dying. Is she that guilty? If so, then why the fuck did she go to them in the first place? Damnit, Mills… You're going to stress me into an early grave.

"Don't cry, please," Ron said gently, feeling more awkward than anything else. "Mills, what are you doing?"

"I ruined everything!" Millie coughed out. "Everything! I'm so sorry-!"

"You didn't ruin everything," Ron said. "What does that even mean? What's 'everything'?"

"Daphne and you are always fighting because of me," Millie replied, her words barely understandable. "And the boys… They had to choose between you and me. Nothing's been the same since-"

"Mills, take a breath," Ron sighed out, he couldn't let her believe all of this self-pitying tripe. Look at her, she's not strong enough. None of them are. What am I going to do? Do I have to take care of them until my dying breath? "Just breathe, all right? Relax. What's done is done; I forgive you. It's all water under the bridge, or, whatever you want it to be-"

"Why?" Millie asked, looking up. "You should hate me."

"I don't," Ron said. I only hate those who spread hatred for no justifiable reason.

"Why?" Millie all but begged. Compared to me, you're a saint. I can't judge my betters… It goes against everything I am.

"You did what your heart told you to do," Ron said, feeling hollow even after swallowing his feelings. "Nothing can change your decision, now, but you can learn from it. That's all I want from you, nothing more and nothing less. Be careful around them, and keep me in the loop. And please, Mills… Toughen up, yeah?"

"W-What?" Millie sniffled, rubbing her eyes.

"You heard me," Ron said, keeping his voice steady and his expression calm. "I told you, it'll only get worse from here. If you want 'everything' to get better, then you need to work towards that. You can't fix what's important if you're moping about all the fucking-" Stop right there, don't get frustrated. "Sorry… Look, I'm speaking from experience, so believe me when I tell you that behaving like this isn't going to make anything better. Remember when I used to get all sorry for myself for days on end, and not speak to anyone but Daphne?"

Millie nodded slowly; her tears had finally stopped running.

"I would spiral into a panic, and nothing would get done until Daphne calmed me down," Ron reminded her for good measure. "Stop it, I won't say it again. No more running off, no more silence for hours on end, and for the love of Merlin; stop burdening Daphne with your problems. She's stressed to death because of you lot, not one of you fucking helped her like I asked-" Stop, cunt!

Ron bit the insides of his cheeks; he had said enough. Going into a lecture isn't worth the effort, I've told her everything she needs to know. Now, she can't hide behind ignorance.

"Ron, I-" Millie started, but Ron stopped her by raising his hand.

"It's fine," Ron said, he had no intention of repeating himself. "I'm moving on from what's been said and done, you should do the same. Come to the morning runs, stop hiding in the North Wing-"

"You knew about that?" Millie asked, her eyes wide with surprise.

"Are you forgetting who I am?" Ron asked in response.

"That's a bit creepy," Millie muttered under her breath, though she quickly realized that she was overstepping. "Sorry, I wasn't trying to be rude-"

"A bit creepy?" Ron cocked an eyebrow. "Sounds about right, actually." Can't argue against the truth, I'm using that map a little too much lately. I should devote more of my free time to studying new Magic. It's time I expanded my arsenal of Spells. I should start right now, actually; I've spent enough time sitting in this chair.

Ron suddenly stood up, surprising Millie in the process.

"Ron? Do… you have to go somewhere?" Millie asked slowly.

"My break is over, and I'm starting to feel like I'm slacking off," Ron said, an emotion akin to dread festering in his stomach. Fucking Chronic Stress, I'm feeling anxious from relaxing too much. I'll finish up my homework for the night before Blaise comes over, that ought to settle me down.

"You still can't take a day off?" Millie asked, her expression a mixture of worry and pity. You think the Dark Lord takes days off?

There were many who commended Ron on his work ethic and commitment to self-improvement; his friends were no longer a part of that unaware group.

"No, but it's important that I don't just sit around," Ron said, heading towards his bed to collect his books, but stopping just as he neared the bed.

He turned around, looking into his errant friend's eyes.

"Don't forget this conversation," Ron ordered. "I'm not going to repeat anything I said tonight. Is that fair?"

"It is," Millie gave a nod, smiling weakly. "Thank you, Ron… And I promise, I'll set things right. I won't keep running, not anymore." She does sound more like her usual-self, but I won't make the mistake of getting my hopes up. I'll keep my eyes on her, and if there's even a hint of trouble from 'Lord and Lady Lard'; I'll step in personally.

---

Daphne Greengrass' POV

Sunday 14th March, 1994 (The Girls' Room – Evening)

"Daphne, what did you get for question three?" Pansy asked, looking up from her parchment. "What are the four ingredients needed to brew an Antidote to Uncommon Poisons?"

They were studying on Daphne's bed tonight, mostly because Daphne wanted to remain snuggled up to Ezekiel; her giant, snow-white teddy-bear.

"You've already got… powdered Graphorn horn, Billywig stings, and Chizpurfle carapaces," Daphne shot a glance at Pansy's work. "You're only missing Fire Seeds."

"Fire Seeds, thanks," Pansy jotted it down.

"The Star 'Antares' belongs in which constellation?" Daphne asked Pansy. I hope she knows the answer, I don't want to go looking for Blaise. I'm too comfortable.

"Scorpius," Pansy replied. "Hm, I rather like that name." Eh, not a fan.

"Thanks," Daphne finished up her Astronomy homework. That was the last one! I'm done! "Merlin, Easter Break's only a few days away, why are the Professors giving us so much homework? We've earned a respite, haven't we?"

"They like to exert their power on us, the tyrants," Pansy replied dramatically.

"Be serious," Daphne sighed out. "Is it always going to be like this?"

"I think it's going to get worse, honestly," Pansy shrugged. "Have you seen the seventh years lately? They all look like they belong in an asylum. I heard they found Cassidy Lemons, that quiet girl from Hufflepuff, having a fit in the bathrooms yesterday. She smashed all the mirrors!" Good heavens, I wonder if Percy is handling his stress any better. I'll greet him tonight, before dinner. He won his matches quite effortlessly; I'll begin by congratulating him-

"What are you thinking about?" Pansy asked, tossing her homework aside.

"Have you ever spoken to Percy Weasley?" Daphne asked, moving her head to a softer side of Ezekiel's shoulder.

"Not really," Pansy replied. "He's not my type, I like a bit of muscle."

"He's very polite, and extremely intelligent," Daphne said. "You should talk to him if you get a chance, he'll surprise you."

"Have you found a taste for Weasley flesh, Daphne?" Pansy smirked, and Daphne rolled her eyes. Where's Millie?

"They are an extraordinary lot," Daphne said, not giving Pansy a reaction.

"Some more than others," Pansy added. Ron wouldn't like you saying that.

"Pansy, that's Ron's family you're talking about," Daphne said, her voice stern.

"Have you seen the eldest one?" Pansy asked immediately, and Daphne's head shot up. Bill? "I was talking about him, Daphne. I wouldn't mind going on a broom ride with him, if you catch my meaning."

"Ugh…" Daphne groaned, her head dropping back. "You're out of control, Pansy."

"It's funny," Pansy giggled. "I'm only pulling your leg, you prude." I'm not so sure, anymore. And don't even get me started on this date with Neville Longbottom tonight… What's she thinking? As if her life isn't complicated enough already.

The door suddenly burst open, giving way to a smiling, and rather unkempt, Millicent. She looked as though she had been running, which was odd given that she was still in her school uniform. Daphne sat up to attention quickly, while Pansy rolled onto her stomach; her feet dangling back and forth.

"Hello there," Pansy beamed. "Loving the smile, Millie!"

"You look excited," Daphne said, smiling as well. "What's happened? Is something happening in the common room?"

"Oh, um… Nothing really," Millie drew in a sharp breath, trying to school her features. "Nothing's going on." Nothing, my arse.

"We don't keep secrets, remember?" Pansy clicked her tongue. "Go on, out with it. Who was he? Where did it happen? How far did you let him go?" Huh?

"Pansy, drown yourself in the toilet, please," Daphne said dully.

"I concur," Millie added. "Anyway, nothing's happened; I was just in a rush to get back, that's all."

"Why?" Daphne and Pansy asked together.

"I… want to do my homework…" Millie replied. Ron's not here, you don't need to get excited over homework.

"You're a dreadful liar, Millie," Daphne pointed out.

"Utterly dreadful," Pansy nodded.

"I know…" Millie sighed out, trying to wipe her hair back into place. "I wasn't quite sure about saying anything just yet… Sorry…"

"Saying anything about what?" Daphne asked, her interest piqued.

Millie drew in a long breath, a smile breaking out on her face as she fidgeted with her hands. Honestly, what's happened? Don't tell me Pansy was right…

"Ron and I made up," Millie announced, letting out a shaky breath at the end. Pardon? "Sort of… I'm not sure, but he wasn't upset with me. We talked for a bit; he even gave me some proper advice! Just like he does with everyone!"

Daphne didn't know what to say; she only knew that a mountain of worry had suddenly been lifted from her shoulders, giving her room to finally breathe. Millie's excitement must've been infectious, because both Pansy and Daphne found themselves mimicking her growing grin. If he's made up with her, does that mean he's coming back?

"Did he say anything about returning to Slytherin?" Daphne asked, moving to the edge of her bed.

"Oh, no… Sorry, Daph, that never came up," Millie replied sheepishly, her expression sobering up. I see… Still, this is good progress; he forgave her and moved past it. That's just like him, always ready to be the bigger person. He just needs his time, that's all.

"It's all right," Daphne found no reason to lose her smile. "He'll come around; he always does."

"How are you so sure?" Pansy asked, looking serious for a change.

"I know him," Daphne let out a sigh of relief, dragging herself back to Ezekiel's side. "He'll find his way back, we just need to be patient with him, now." I was beginning to worry that he would never look past Millie's mistake, not after what happened to Tracey. He's never been the same since Hogsmeade, none of us have-

"You still loooove him," Pansy teased, noticing how pleased Daphne looked.

"Don't be so juvenile, Pans," Daphne tossed her pillow at the sniggering witch, her face feeling hot. Who says that I ever stopped?

"Tell us everything, Mills," Daphne said, patting the bed. "What changed Ron's mind?" Was it me?

"If you really want to know, then I need to give you two context first, but you have to promise not to tell the boys," Millie said, reluctantly reaching into her pocket and pulling out a crumpled letter. "Ron knows, but he's different… He has to know about this."

"What's that?" Pansy asked, eyeing the parchment.

"A letter…" Millie replied, looking uncomfortable. "From my parents." From her parents? And she made up with Ron because of it? This… can't be good… What's gone wrong, now?

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Sunday 14th March, 1994 (The Sanctuary – After Dinner)

"You eat like this every day?" Blaise asked, putting his spoon back into the spotless bowl.

"Master has quite the palate, now," Marty chuckled, he still had the decency to enjoy his dessert with grace. "Isn't that so, Master?"

"Care to share?" Blaise asked Ron, smirking.

"I'm not some 'food connoisseur', like some obnoxious brat I know," Ron assured Blaise, smirking as Blaise's expression dulled. "Marty's just being cheeky, sugar does that to him."

"It is true," Marty nodded, having another spoonful.

"It's strange, though," Blaise noted, relaxing in his chair.

"What's strange?" Ron asked.

"You eat with Marty, a common Elf," Blaise shrugged. Hm? "Strange, indeed, but that's just like you."

Marty quickly shook his head at Blaise, while Ron's jaw clenched. What did he actually say about Marty, again? I want to be sure.

"Repeat that first comment," Ron said, his lips thinning into a frown. He just busted his arse cooking for you, just look at the dozens of plates. He didn't even ask for any gratitude… What the fuck? That's plain wrong, that is-

"What?" Blaise asked, shooting a quick glance at Marty. "Oh…"

"Stop shaking your head, you'll get dizzy again," Ron reminded Marty quickly, keeping his eyes on Blaise.

"I didn't mean any disrespect, mate," Blaise sat up straight. "Marty's a friend, don't doubt that for a moment." Good, but what if he's just saving his hide, now?

"People like your mother look down on Marty and me; your supposed 'mate'," Ron said plainly, forcefully choking his anger down. Just set him straight, don't create new problems. "Just remember that."

"I know," Blaise nodded, surprising Ron a little. Okay. Good, then- "I'm sorry, Marty; I meant no offence. Your cooking expertise are to be commended, as always. This was the best meal I've had in a long while, I promise." Wow… A proper Pure-Blood compliment, too?

Ron felt proud of Blaise, and just a tiny-bit pleased with himself. Made a smart choice, finally.

"You are too kind, Master Zabini-" Marty smiled bashfully from behind another spoonful.

"Just Blaise will do," Blaise cut in. Now, he's just kissing my arse.

"Get your tongue out of my arsehole, cunt," Ron gave Blaise a knowing smile. But good on you.

"No, you're right; my mother is everything that's fucking wrong in this world," Blaise said, his voice awfully bitter. Okay… Some other shit is going on here, even I can see that.

Ron and Marty exchanged subtle glances. Yep, something's off, but I'm seeing an opportunity as well. I shouldn't bother him about this, for now, at least. I had best keep my eyes on Blaise though; I can't let him do something stupid out of anger. It's not a road one should walk, the view is fucking abysmal.

"Thank you for your company, gentlemen," Blaise stood up, smacking his knees in the process. Ouch. "Honestly, it was a delightful change. Oh, by the way, Marty, what's happening down in The Kitchens? Food's been a bit stale, lately. Really uninspired." Ah, he's still obnoxious. Can never be that lucky, can I? It would break some Cosmic Law, no fuckin' doubt.

"Hogwarts will be looking for new Elves, soon, and as such; some of the staff are most displeased," Marty explained, looking concerned over Blaise's disappointment in the meals. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience, Master-"

"Can you ask him to relax, please?" Blaise looked to Ron. "I was just making a comment, I meant no offence, of course. Again." You have a real funny way of making conversation, cunt… Are you just being rude and feigning ignorance?! "Anyway… Goodnight, and thank you again. Ron, come talk to me sometimes, all right? I found a poem that suits you, and I'd like to read it to you." Ugh… That nonsense makes my brain-damage beg for mercy…

"Sure…" Ron put on a smile. "I'd love nothing more…" … than to burn those dreadful books.

"You could do with some culture, Ron," Blaise commented, heading towards the door. "Women are weak to a cultured man, and since you're single, now; it's only fitting that you 'be better'." The cheek on this twat.

"And you could do with a smack, 'no offence, of course'," Ron said monotonously. He's certainly a character, but I think he was being honest in regards to Marty-

"Pardon? Did you say something, Ron?" Blaise turned around, shooting Ron a proper smile. "Is he seriously being rude? I can't tell! He ignores me, then gives me a really friendly smile. What's happening here?

"Never mind," Ron sighed out, letting it go. "Goodnight, mate."

"Goodnight, then," Blaise gave a parting nod to Marty and Ron, turning around and leaving without hesitation right after. Is it just me, or, is he in a hurry to leave?

As soon as Blaise closed the door behind himself, Marty and Ron looked to each other.

"Master Zabini has grown more bitter towards his Lady mother," Marty told Ron. Excuse me, where's the fucking 'Lady' part of her? She's as bad as the Death-Eaters.

"She's gone and offed another bloke, so yes," Ron said, relaxing in his chair and thinking ahead. Where to put Blaise? Close to me, or, away from the danger? Marty will need to help, that's for sure. Can't leave everything to me, it's too risky. The Order would protect him, but I'd rather keep him under my personal care-

"Marty has read the papers and heard the rumours, Master," Marty said, giving Ron a worried look. "Is Master Zabini safe? And, for how long?" Marty's eyes then widened, like a puppy's. "Master?"

"Oh, don't give me that look," Ron groaned, sitting up.

"Master Zabini is in pain," Marty pointed out. "And Master is not very concerned… It is very unusual behaviour for Master to ignore the pain of his friends."

"We all need pain, it's the fire that forges the hardest steel," Ron said, making up his mind. "Blaise needs this, because right now; his threshold is just too low. Some rough-housing from life will sort him out, I'm convinced of it."

"Master…" Marty muttered. "You are not making sense to Marty, no disrespect-"

"Keep your eyes on him, and I'll do the same," Ron said, raising his hands in surrender. "He'll be all right, because we'll help him be all right. Oh, and if he gets any silly ideas, we'll be there to stop him." Now, stop fretting. You'll die from stress before I do.

"Good, good," Marty nodded, giving Ron a toothy smile. "Marty should not doubt Master, a thousand apologies-"

"Don't apologize for giving your thoughts, mate," Ron said. "Didn't we talk about this? C'mon, work with me a little…"

"Marty will be more mindful in the future," Marty smiled again. "More ice-cream, Master?"

"No, I shouldn't even have had that first bowl," Ron refused. "Sweets are not good for you, that's what Madam Roberts says. She's the sort you listen to, Marty. Remember that."

"Marty will remember, Master," Marty nodded fervently, making himself another bowl with a snap of his finger. "But just one more bowl for Marty, strawberry ice-cream is Marty's favourite, as of late." Eat all you like, it's not like you and I are paying for it. This is on the Hogwarts Board of Governors' tab.

"After you're full, teach me some more 'everyday' Magic," Ron said, looking towards his fireplace. "That Tar-Summoning Charm you taught me was brilliant, Marty. My brother, George, was certainly impressed."

"Marty is growing ever fonder of dinnertime, Master," Marty suddenly confessed to Ron, who couldn't help but smile just a little. "More specifically, our time together. Marty is very grateful-"

"That's what you're saying now, mate," Ron cut in. "But from today onwards, you and I will be spending most of our nights together, and there'll be limited time for good conversation and good food. We have to work harder than ever, because things are about to get bad… Really fucking bad. We're going to have to fight if we're to save the world from the Dark Lord, and fight on the front lines."

Marty's spoon slowly dipped into his ice-cream, dread flashing across his face for a moment. He's scared, which is understandable. We're going up against some really twisted bastards.

"Are you with me?" Ron asked. "It won't be easy; we might both end up dead… One last chance to-"

"Master should stop right there," Marty said, snapping his fingers and banishing the dinnerware. "Marty is honoured to serve Master, always."

"Don't fight because you serve me," Ron said, that wasn't good enough for him. "Only fight if you want to stop the Dark Lord from destroying the world. You could betray me, potentially, but you'd never betray yourself. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

"It is all Marty wants, Master," Marty promised. "Marty will fight to stop the Dark Lord, wherever and whenever." Good man.

"Then, let's prepare ourselves," Ron stood up. The trick is to win a lot more than you lose. I've finally got it, which is why I'll make up for my mistake by devoting everything to the mission. I'll be better, no matter what. None of the horrors I saw can come to pass, so much is at stake, but I'll save them all, even if I have to do it all on my own.

---

Pansy Parkinson's POV

Sunday 14th March, 1994 (The Dungeons – Night)

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do, Pansy," Daphne said, while Millie made sure that Pansy's scarlet robes were in order. There's not a single crinkle, Mills, I made sure of that already.

"And what wouldn't you do, Daphne?" Pansy asked, mischief in her eyes. "Don't forget about your own… adventures… with a certain redhead." You really shouldn't have shared that information with us, you little minx.

"I told you about that in confidence," Daphne huffed, tensing up.

"Still, though…" Millie muttered under her breath. "You two were very handsy with each other-"

"How did this become about me?" Daphne asked. "And we weren't that handsy-"

"Here come the lies," Pansy said to Millie, while Daphne let out a sigh.

"Just be careful," Daphne said, she looked ready to be on her way. "And… Longbottom's one of the good ones, please don't do anything to change that." Oh, stop your fretting, you'll go grey before thirty!

"I promise not to tarnish his purity," Pansy said, resting her hand on her heart and giving her most innocent smile. "Today, that is." If he keeps growing, then I'm definitely going to stay interested.

"I never thought I'd worry for a Gryffindor," Millie said, and Daphne nodded in agreement.

"He's certainly in for a long night," Daphne said, while Pansy blew on her fresh coat of nail polish. Perfect!

"I'm off, then," Pansy announced, turning on her heel and fixing up the bottom of her wavy hair. "Wish me luck, girls!"

Pansy had gone to great lengths to make herself beautiful tonight, not only for her date's sake, but also for her own. After all, this was it! She was finally free to choose her own path, and she had no plans on that ever changing. She wasn't going to end up as some broodmare, and if she did ever decide to settle down; it would be with someone who had won her heart through valour and charm. Just like in my books!

Her entire life was ahead of her, and Pansy would make every day count. I won't end up bitter and hateful like my mother, never. I'll be happy, and I'll be different. As different as I possibly can be-

"Wait!" Millie suddenly called, and Pansy stopped just before going up the stairs.

"Yes, Millie?" Pansy turned around, smiling contently.

"Why so much… red?" Millie asked, inspecting Pansy's fine robes. It's not exactly red; it's Gryffindor Scarlet. "You don't really like red; you've told me so yourself a million times."

"I'm not wearing it for me," Pansy laughed, shooting Millie a wink. "Don't bother waiting up, I won't be coming back until midnight." If he's interesting, that is. I don't actually know anything about him besides the fact that he's overly polite and a bit jumpy. Oh, I hope he's funny; I love funny!

"Midnight?" Millie blinked. "Pansy, that's not allowed… The curfew is enforced by prefects at eleven, they won't just let you run around the castle-"

"Oh, they will," Pansy's smile turned mischievous as she pulled out her wand. "I have a little trick to help Neville and I go unnoticed tonight. Wish me luck!"

---

Neville Longbottom's POV

Sunday 14th March, 1994 (The Seventh Floor – Night)

"So, what's the plan?" Dean asked. Plan?

"No plan, really," Neville replied, unable to hide his nervousness. Should I have come up with a plan? No one mentioned anything about plans!

"No plan?" Seamus repeated, exchanging a glance with Harry and Dean. Oh, Merlin… I'm doomed!

As usual, word had already spread throughout the whole of Hogwarts; Neville Longbottom was courting Pansy Parkinson. Actually, it's the other way around, I think. Seriously, what does she see in me? This isn't some sort of trap to embarrass me, is it?

"Nev? Relax, mate, you'll start sweating again," Harry said, noticing Neville's nervousness. "Look, it might not even be a date-"

"It's not a date?" Neville blurted out; the question stirred nothing but disappointment.

"I mean, she didn't specify-" Harry started, looking uncertain, now.

"Of course, it's a date," Seamus cut in, giving Harry a light shove. "Blimey, Neville… You're being a ponce! Just go down there and see what happens!"

"Don't make it sound easy, or, anything," Neville sighed out. I don't know the first thing about her. How am I supposed to do this?

"She approached you, didn't she?" Dean reminded him. "See? That's a good sign already; she must really like you. Birds aren't usually this aggressive, especially those cold ones from Slytherin." That's just rude, that is.

"She's never spoken to me until now," Neville told them. "Isn't this all a bit… sudden?"

"Does you want this, or, not?" Dean asked plainly, suddenly looking bored.

"I do, but…" Neville stopped. I do, but I just don't know why she'd ask me. I'm no one.

"No more 'buts'!" Seamus declared, taking a step forward and forcefully turning Neville around.

"Oi, don't do that!" Harry scolded.

"Go on, Neville!" Seamus patted Neville's back. "Girls like a bit of confidence, so don't start stammering, or, sweating. That's all the advice you'll need, trust me!" Trust you?! Most of the girls in our year can't stand you!

Neville turned back around to protest, hoping that Harry would, at least, join him part of the way down. He knew he was being very unlike a Gryffindor, but he was so out of his element that he couldn't help but feel overly anxious. Unfortunately, Dean and Seamus were already dragging Harry through the entrance of Gryffindor Tower; sealing it behind them before Neville could even get a word out.

"Oh, no…" Neville muttered, staring at the Fat Lady's portrait in despair. "Now, what?"

"Oh, just go on, daft boy," the Fat Lady groaned, making Neville jump. "Honestly, how'd you get sorted into the House of the Brave? No woman will have you if you keep simpering like that!"

Neville wasted no time in fleeing, the Fat Lady held no love for the boy who constantly treaded mud into her tower. And I used to forget her passwords all the time… What's the matter with me? One step at a time, Neville made his way towards the Entrance Hall; his feet feeling heavier the further he got.

What if this entire thing was a mistake?

Hermione wasn't exactly pleased with him, and although he was disappointed with her negative attitude; he knew that he wanted the hostilities to stop. He truly detested mean-spirited spats with his best mates, especially because no one was lining up to befriend the foolish Longbottom. Hermione doesn't like Pansy, or, any of the Slytherin girls, really… Am I not betraying my friend by going on this date? Or, am I looking for reasons to get out of this? Merlin, I'm so bloody nervous.

With a sharp breath; he turned into the Entrance Hall, but Pansy was nowhere to be found. I arrived early, didn't I? Wait, I should have gone down to the Dungeons in order to escort her up… It would have been the proper thing to do. Is she waiting down there for me? I'd best go check-

"Looking for me?" Pansy suddenly came into existence, her smiling face popping up from behind him.

Neville jumped and squeaked like a frightened mouse, running down the steps and turning around with an anxious expression. Merlin, they can all do that?! I hate it! Much to his surprise, she didn't look down upon his easily startled nature as her Housemates would have. Rather; she laughed mischievously, relishing in her successful prank. Woah, red…

Neville felt his cheeks flush, and he quickly straightened his back; showing his full height as Dean had advised. Pansy was laughing without a care, the golden flowers on her scarlet robes making her sparkle with the help of the Ever-Burning Torches. Red and gold, that can't be a coincidence. She's really interested in me? Honestly? I don't get it… Why not Harry? Or, Dean-?

"I was waiting to jump you," Pansy laughed as she raced down the steps, stopping mere inches away from him. "Circe, that was brilliant! How'd you ever get sorted into Gryffindor?!" And, there it is… The question everyone asks…

"Well, I don't actually know," Neville admitted, feeling embarrassed. "I wanted to be in Hufflepuff, but the Sorting Hat… It chose different." I'm glad I'm in Gryffindor, though. Harry and Hermione need me, and this way; I can always stay by their side.

"Hm, it chose different, you say," Pansy mused, whilst not so subtly looking him over. "Maybe you haven't had a chance to be brave yet? Truly brave, I mean."

"Pardon?" Neville asked slowly, caught off-guard.

"Maybe you haven't had a chance to be truly brave yet," Pansy repeated, shooting him an approving nod that made him feel like he was on display. She's rather…wild, looking me over like that so brazenly. But, clearly, she's also quite clever, I never thought about my Sorting like that before. I hope she's right, and that I can make my parents proud. And Gran, especially Gran.

Neville smiled a little at the comforting thought.

"I made you think, didn't I?" Pansy asked smugly. "You'll get used to my greatness; you might even pick up a few tricks along the way!" Huh? Is she training me?

"Um… Okay…" Neville shifted in his spot, feeling more anxious than ever in regards to his new-born love life. This might've been a mistake; I'm going back to the tower. She and I are obviously too different-

"Am I going too fast?" Pansy asked, confusing him further. "Damn, perhaps Witch Weekly isn't always worth listening to? I've surprised you a little too much." Is she mental? Is that why she's interested in me? She's insane?! "Come with me, give me your hand."

"My hand?" Neville asked, instinctively hiding his hands behind his back.

"Ouch," Pansy pouted, before quickly taking his arm. "Got you!" Merlin, she's hugging me?!

"Pansy-!"

"It's almost time, you'll see!" Pansy pulled him towards the centre of the Entrance Hall.

"Time for what?" Neville asked, following without resistance.

"The Great Hall is about to change, and we have to see it," Pansy beamed. The Great Hall is going to change? How is that possible?

Neville looked between the giant doors and Pansy; she was certainly excited for a reason, which in turn pushed Neville to play along. What was the harm in entertaining her for a few more minutes? Despite his disenchantment with how tonight's events were playing out; Neville was not going to be rude towards a Lady. And Pansy's not just an ordinary Lady; she's the new Head of the Parkinson Family. If I insult her, Gran will send me the worst sort of Howler-

"Neville, you're not even remotely excited, are you?" Pansy asked, tugging at his arm. I forgot that she was holding my arm!

"Sorry…" Neville apologized weakly, focusing on the doors. "Um… Should we go in, then? Want me to open the doors?"

"That's very kind of you, Neville," Pansy smiled. I kind of feel like she set me up for that one… What's going on here? I'm terribly confused.

Neville approached the doors, and with a grunt; he pushed the doors open just enough for a giggling Pansy to sneak through. Watch your head! My arm's still in the way!

"Careful," Neville whispered, moving his arm up in order to avoid touching Pansy as she raced through.

"The Great Hall has yet to change," Pansy reported, taking his hand and dragging him through the opening. "Come on, we still have time!"

"Who told you about this?" Neville inquired, feeling guilty for lurking within the Great Hall so late.

"Ron told me," Pansy replied, shooting a wink back. "I've been meaning to come here and see it for myself, but I didn't have anyone to escort me." Escort? So, not a date, then… Okay…

"Ron? What's he got to do with this?" Neville asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Hm, what can I share with an outsider?" Pansy mused, teasing him with a cold stare. "Ron explores the castle often, or, he used to back when…" she trailed off. Back when? "Never mind, the point is that he's told me quite a few stories of his outings, and although they're all good stories; the ones that really caught my attention were the stories that occurred past ten."

"Stories past ten?" Neville asked, patting his pocket for his watch. Brilliant, I forgot it on my bed. Still, I know that it's past ten already, and nothing seems different to me-

"Ron says that the castle morphs once the moon rises," Pansy whispered with a growing grin, making Neville's ears perk up. Hogwarts changes? Into what? "The corridors feel endless; the ghosts throw their bone-chilling parties, the Library's Forbidden Section calls to you, the Night Gardens in the Southern Wing finally blossom, and the Enchanted Apple Tree drops its tastiest apples at midnight-!"

"This can't all be real, right?" Neville had to interrupt. "It sounds rather fanciful-"

"Ron doesn't lie," Pansy was quick to argue, but then; she seemed to realize something. "Oh, wait… He lies all the time, but he wouldn't lie about this. I'm sure of it."

"How are you so sure?" Neville asked slowly. "You just said that he lies all the time…"

"We'll see soon enough, won't we?" Pansy smirked challengingly. "Any minute, now, Neville Longbottom; you'll have to eat your words."

---

Pansy Parkinson's POV

Sunday 14th March, 1994 (The Great Hall – Night)

Ron was a bloody liar, and Pansy was going to kill him for embarrassing her on her very first date.

The Great Hall looked the exact same as it always did, save for the excited and eager students making a ruckus. Nothing had changed, except for Pansy's adoration of Ron; that lying prick. He's going to get it the next time I see him, that's a promise!

"So…" Neville broke the silence, making Pansy go still. "Um… Nothing's happening, so… Should we go?" He wants to leave?! I failed… I failed straight away…

"Why would he lie about this?" Pansy sighed out, deciding to admit defeat. "It's getting late, do you want to return to Gryffindor Tower?"

Neville shot an awkward look towards the exit, but remained seated. "Is everything all right between you and Ron?" Huh?

"Pardon?" Pansy blinked.

"He's been missing a lot of meals, most of us never see him outside of class," Neville expanded, focusing back on her with a worried expression. "I know it's not my place to ask, but everyone is worried. Even the Professors." Join the club, then.

"He eats in his room," Pansy shrugged, trying to make light of things. I miss the start of the year-

"Does he?" Neville pushed. "He looks pale. Sick, actually-"

"Why are you doing this?" Pansy asked, feeling irked. "You're spoiling everything."

"Oh…" Neville's eyes widened to the point where he resembled a spooked deer. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No… I'm sorry…" Pansy apologized, regaining herself. So much for my plans. Time to go back to the Dungeons. "I just… had high expectations, that's all. I wanted tonight to be brilliant." I should know better by now. Ever since Tracey left us, we've had nothing but bad luck. She was our lucky charm.

Neville shifted uncomfortably in his spot; he looked as though he wanted to say something, but didn't have the nerve to go through with it.

Pansy stood up and dusted the back of her robes before making her way towards the large doors, she was planning to cry in the Dungeon bathrooms before sneaking into bed past midnight. "Coming?"

"Maybe we should wait a few more minutes?" Neville asked, already following at her heel. "You were right, he has no reason to lie about this. Especially because you could check for yourself-"

"He's probably having a laugh right now," Pansy said bitterly, Ron could be a proper prat sometimes. "Theo probably put him up to it, and Blaise just stood by and let it happen-"

"Pansy, wait!" Neville suddenly grabbed her hand.

"Hey!" Pansy came to a jolting stop. "You can only hold my hand when I consent!"

"Oh, sorry!" Neville quickly let go, taking a step back for good measure.

"And stop saying 'oh' and 'sorry'," Pansy added, massaging her hand. "What's gotten into you, Neville?"

"I act, and then I think… It's a real problem," Neville muttered a reply, rubbing the back of his neck. Reminds me of someone else I know. "I didn't mean to startle you; I just think that we should wait a few more minutes. What if Ron wasn't keeping track of time? You mentioned that he discovers and moves on, so I doubt he came back here to verify what time 'the change' occurs." He's got a point.

"Why are you suddenly asking me to wait?" Pansy had to ask. "I thought that you wanted our boring, little date to end-"

"Date? This really was a date, then?!" Neville's face lit up, resulting in Pansy getting caught off-guard for a change. What did he think this was?

"Of course, it was a date," Pansy said, feeling regret over a wasted night. "Well, it was supposed to be, but everything's ruined… The Great Hall didn't change, we're both breaking curfew for nothing, and I just found out that Hogwarts is as dull as its Professors."

"This was a date," Neville stood up straighter, smiling fully. What's wrong with him?

"Um… Yes, it was," Pansy said, looking towards the door. "I'm going to head off-"

"What about the other stories?" Neville asked, suddenly eager to spend time with her. "The whispering books of the Forbidden Section? The Night Gardens?"

"He made it all up," Pansy all but whispered; Ron had no idea how much his prank had hurt her. I'm not going to talk him until he apologizes to me. I won't even look at him.

"But why?" Neville asked. "Why would he make up so many fantastic stories?"

"I don't know," Pansy admitted, longing for a deserted bathroom stall. "I don't know anything about him, anymore. He's a stranger, I can't keep telling myself otherwise. I haven't seen my friend since…" she trailed off, because she couldn't even remember the last time she had heard Ron laugh without a care. If he does laugh; it's always an act, a mask he puts on in public. He's miserable, and we all know it.

"I'm really sorry to hear that," Neville said awkwardly. "Is there anything I can do to help?" Is he offering to speak to Ron? There's no point, even Daphne failed to bring him back. Still, he's kind to offer, most boys wouldn't even notice that a girl is upset.

"Unless you can go back in time, Neville, I don't think there's much to be done at this point," Pansy said hopelessly. "Can we go, please? I'm feeling tired."

"Sure…" Neville nodded, noticeably downcast. "Um… Lead the way…"

Both of them started for the exit, awkward and disappointed; Pansy could already feel her eyes welling up. This was supposed to be her night; the night she started her great adventure, but her fantasies had turned rotten mere moments before becoming reality. I bet she's laughing wherever she is, laughing at me for being 'stupid and naïve, with a head full of wishes but no aptitude to make them come true'.

Pansy fiddled with her hands, trying very hard not to cry on the spot. This is wretched… Nothing ever goes well for me! From the corner of her vision, she could see the braziers beginning to dim, their Magical Fire being snuffed out for the day. Figures that I have to go back down in the dark, I'll have to use my wand as a torch-

"Pansy, wait," Neville pinched her robes at the elbow. "Something's happening!"

"It's just the fire going out, Neville," Pansy said dully, not turning around.

"No! Look up! The candles!" Neville suddenly squeaked, tugging at her elbow. Candles?

Pansy looked up at the Enchanted Ceiling, which was usually hidden behind an army of brightly lit candles; her eyes widening in awe. The candles had vanished into a sweet-smelling vapour, filling the Great Hall with a breath of fresh air and revealing the Enchanted Ceiling in all of its glory.

Above the pair sat the Universe, the endless expanse of the Cosmos shining down upon them. It was a marvellous sight, one that Pansy couldn't believe was hidden in such plain sight. This whole time… This was hidden behind those candles?

"I know what this is!" Neville laughed excitedly.

"What is it?" Pansy asked quickly, trying to take in every little star. There's so many! Millions upon millions! The Universe is just divine!

"It's a Mirroring Charm, the ceiling is bewitched to look like the sky outside," Neville explained. "Without all the pesky clouds, that is. This is a perfect image of the stars above us!"

"How do you know so much about this?!" Pansy beamed. He's rather educated!

"Hermione told me-" Neville started, but stopped abruptly; his excitement dying on his face. "Hermione told me…" Okay, then… What's going on?

"What's wrong?" Pansy asked, finally looking away from the stars.

"You know how you mentioned that you don't recognize Ron anymore?" Neville asked slowly, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Well, I understand how that feels." I don't get it.

"Neville, don't beat around the bush," Pansy huffed. "I don't like guessing-"

"It's Hermione," Neville sighed out. "She's not exactly… happy… about this…"

"About what?" Pansy asked, her eyes narrowing. "You and I spending time together?"

"D-… This is a date," Neville whispered, blood rushing to his face. Cute, but he really needs to build a little confidence… Why is he so spooked all the time? I haven't said anything to upset him, have I?

'And Granger has a problem with us seeing each other?" Pansy asked, quirking an eyebrow. "Why?"

"I… don't honestly know…" Neville admitted, rubbing his face. "Sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up. I just thought I'd warn you; Hermione can be a little extreme when she's upset-"

"Neville, stop right there, please," Pansy cut in, she wasn't going to abide the 'jealous friend' cliché in her story. "I've spent my entire life in the background, always the silent passenger, always letting others make my choices for me. But now, I'm finally free to be me. Pansy. Not just another Parkinson, and certainly not some powerless wife cowering in the shadow of an old and abusive husband. I'm going to be brilliant! I'm going to leave my mark on the Wizarding World!"

Neville nodded slowly, clearly not following along just yet. He doesn't get it, yet. He's never been under the thumb of a cruel old bat, always criticizing him and making him feel worthless… I'm not worthless, and I'm going to prove it.

"And part of being brilliant means not letting another girl's feelings get in the way of mine," Pansy stated. "I didn't ask you here because I wanted Granger to be upset, I asked you here because I think you're cute."

"C-cute? Me?" Neville muttered, shrinking a bit as their eyes locked. Really? That was a compliment. What sort of reaction is that?

"Seems to me that you have two choices, Neville Longbottom," Pansy said, flicking her hair back and striking a haughty pose from Witch Weekly's latest issue.

It definitely caught the young Gryffindor's eye, as he was quick to blush and avert his gaze. Yes! I'm bloody good! "Pansy, don't push your… chest… out like that-"

"You can either return to Gryffindor Tower and continue courting your hand," Pansy went on, while Neville shot his right hand a guilty look. "Or, you can come with me and see Hogwarts all over again. For the very first time!" I'm going to give Ron a big kiss tomorrow! He was telling the truth! I shouldn't have doubted him for a second!

"I don't get it-"

"Ron was telling the truth, Neville, just look above us!" Pansy couldn't help but smile as they both looked up. "The Great Hall did change, just as he said it would."

"The other stories…" Neville's eyes widened in realization, his lips twitching upwards.

"So, handsome, what's it going to be?" Pansy asked, taking his face in her palms and positioning his head to fixate on her. "Want to sneak about the castle with a Slytherin? Well. Past. Curfew?"

---

Albus Dumbledore's POV

Sunday 14th March, 1994 (The Headmaster's Office – Near Midnight)

"More wine?" Albus asked.

"Why not? It dulls the pain," Severus replied, pushing his goblet forward.

With a flick of his hand, Albus filled both their goblets from his personal cellar. "A vintage, for I fear Ronald will bring us ill news tonight."

"A special occasion, then?" Severus asked, toasting before taking a long sip.

"Seems that we won't live long enough to enjoy this wine as I had planned," Albus lamented, staring into the goblet. "Far away from here, in a land not plagued by war and divide."

"There is no such land," Severus said, ever the cynic.

"We are fighting to build one," Albus reminded Severus, who refused to acknowledge his just cause. "I wonder, how long will you deny the goodness I see within you-"

"Don't ruin my night, I beg you," Severus said blandly, causing Albus to laugh.

A sudden knock at the door stopped Albus, however; Ronald was here. Without delay, Albus unlocked the door, allowing the redhead to step into the light. As was the recent norm, Ronald looked sickly and tired, though his limp was certainly new.

"Are you hurt?" Severus asked.

"Training accident," Ronald replied, limping over to his seat and collapsing on it. "Ow…"

"We can speak tomorrow, you look as though you haven't slept in days, my boy-" Albus started.

"No, we really ought to talk now, this is important," Ronald sat up, drawing in a deep breath. "She came to me. She finally showed herself, Headmaster." She? Fate?!

Both Albus and Severus sat up straighter, their attentions fully gripped. Deep down, Albus had always dreaded the answers he feared Fate's appearance would bring, but now that the moment was finally upon them; Albus found himself genuinely curious. Ronald has stood in the absence of a Goddess. How many others can claim such a feat?!

"What did she share with you?" Albus asked, his eyes twinkling. "Tell me everything, my boy! Leave nothing out!" We are about to hear the words of the Divine! Beings as old as Magic itself-!

"She tortured me… Forced me to fight and kill…" Ronald told them, averting his gaze by instinct.

Albus' face fell immediately, and all he could do was exchange a jarred glance with Severus. Torture? Forced to kill? It felt as though a ton of bricks had been dropped onto his head, but Albus knew that his feelings of disillusionment were nothing compared to Ronald's experiences. My dear boy, I'm so sorry.

"Ronald… I do not know what to say-" Albus began.

"Who did you kill?" Severus cut in, while Ronald visibly tensed up. Severus…

"As barmy as this is going to sound, I think she sent me to a different Universe," Ronald replied, failing to notice his companions' shock. Another Universe?! "I possessed the deceased Ronald Weasley of that Universe in order to save Harry's life… Not our Harry, the Harry of that other Universe… Bloody hell, this sounds like a load of shite…"

Ronald shook his head, his eyes looked older than even Albus'.

"I… I don't even know where to start…" a weak chuckle escaped Ronald's mouth. "I suppose I haven't really processed all of this yet… I saw entire worlds burned to ash just last night. Everyone in the Universe was dead." Dear heavens… What did she do to you, Ronald?!

"Ron," Severus reached forward and placed his hand on Ronald's left forearm, making the redhead go very still. "Breathe, as I showed you. Find your centre, and then tell us what you need to. We're not going anywhere. Are we, Albus?"

"We're with you, dear boy, until the very end," Albus smiled at Ronald, even as his heart ached for the young man before him. "I promise."

---

Monday 15th March, 1994 (The Headmaster's Office – Past Midnight)

"Why now?" Severus asked Ronald, while Albus focused on extracting the right memories from Ronald's mind. "She could've come to you when you were eight, so why now? Why wait at all?"

"Perhaps a child would not recover from such an event," Albus suggested.

"She came to warn me," Ronald clarified, he had an air of secrecy about him tonight. He's choosing each word carefully, which means that he's not planning to share everything.

"Warn you of what?" Severus asked.

Ronald drew in another deep breath, his jaw clenching and his old eyes becoming focused. "The Dark Lord… He's regained his former power."

"Impossible," Severus rejected the notion immediately, while Albus stilled. So soon?! How? How did he stabilize his new vessel?

"It's true," Ronald said plainly, shooting a quick glance back. "He's no longer handicapped, which means that even more people are going to start dying very soon."

"Damn him," Severus frowned, moving out of his chair and pacing. "How? How did he do it? We kept the Stone from him, we even limited his supply of Unicorn Blood-"

"It's my fault," Ronald cut in, making both Albus and Severus go quiet.

"Your fault, my boy?" Albus asked, looking over Ronald's shoulder. "Explain yourself, please. Severus and I don't quite understand-"

"It's my fault that he's returned so quickly," Ronald confessed, looking back and meeting Albus' gaze. "I stole something from this castle, and it later ended up in his hands…" He stole from Hogwarts? What did he take?

"What did you steal?" Albus asked, something twisting in his stomach.

A horrible truth was about to be revealed, Albus could feel it in his bones.

"I found it…" Ronald eventually replied, his gaze unwavering. "The Chamber of Secrets…"

"What?" Severus hissed, looking towards Albus. The Chamber?

"I've kept something from you both for a long time, and it's about time I came clean," Ronald started, sitting up straighter.

It was then that Ronald opened his mouth, but instead of his voice coming through; a very familiar hissing filled the room. Albus' stomach dropped instantly, his mind reeling and failing to come up with an explanation for this new turn of events.

Ronald was a Parselmouth, and a skilled one at that. Which can only mean one thing… He's been practising for a while, a long while. How is this even possible? Ronald holds no relation to the Gaunt Bloodline.

"This cannot be…" Severus once again looked to Albus for an explanation, only to be met with equal confusion from the old wizard. "He's a Parselmouth…"

"Ronald, it is time to become very truthful very quickly," Albus said, losing his patience for games and riddles. "How is this possible? How can you speak that tongue?"

"I don't know," Ronald admitted. "It happened at the start of second year, I could suddenly speak to snakes and… And, whenever I get too upset, it just comes out of me. I don't even notice it most of the time, it just feels like I'm speaking English. It feels natural."

"Gods…" Severus muttered, pinching the bridge of his hooked nose. "Every day, it's something else with you."

Ronald looked down at his feet, saying nothing in his defence.

"Severus, there is no need for this," Albus was quick to stop frustrations from taking over. "Ronald is as lost as we are-"

"If he's telling us the truth," Severus pointed out. "He lies, remember?"

"And you two don't?" Ronald asked plainly, not raising his gaze. "I'll be the first to admit that I fucked up, and that many have suffered because of my carelessness… But don't think that my mistakes absolve you two of yours. The man who murdered in our enemy's name, and the man who watched the world burn because he was too weak to face his own past. I don't need your judgement; I need your help in fixing our collective fuck-ups." I see, his mind is already made up, then. Strange… Very, very strange… No man I know would recover this quickly from such a harrowing meeting, and yet, here he is. Already ready to get back into the fight, despite being covered in wounds. The perfect soldier; one who doesn't care for his own life in the slightest, only ever his mission.

Ronald then turned in his chair, looking back up at Albus. He's just a boy… How could she do this to him? All that knowledge, all that power, and she turned it all against a child.

"I found the Basilisk, and I harvested it," Ronald confessed, while Albus simply stared at the boy's ever-weakening complexion. "I sold it in pieces to make a fortune, which I then used to buy The Quibbler and fund my works. I thought I was doing good, helping people just like you do…" Oh, Ronald. "But I caused even more problems… I'll have to live with that in the short few years I have left… You don't have to say anything, or, try to teach me any lessons. I know I made a mistake, and now; all I want to do is fix it. Are you going to help me? Or… Or, are we done? I'll leave quietly, if you want. No fuss." And fight this war by your lonesome? Could you really do that, Ronald? If so, then I've never felt sorrier for you than I do now.

Albus was reminded of the night Ronald had been found on top of the Astronomy Tower; he would not make the mistake of leaving Ronald in the darkness again. He had vowed as much to himself, and Albus Dumbledore was a man of his word; he had to be.

"We'll help you," Albus said, placing his hand on Ronald's shoulder and giving it a comforting squeeze. "Always, Ronald." No matter what, I'll never turn my back on him again.

---

Severus Snape's POV

Monday 15th March, 1994 (The Headmaster's Office – Past Midnight)

As always, Albus was far too quick to forgive betrayal and deceit, but Snape was not. The boy had lied, hidden important information, and now, he had aided the Dark Lord through sheer stupidity. He finds an intact sac of Basilisk Venom, and his first instinct is to throw the most dangerous venom known to Wizarding-Kind on the Black Market for a quick fortune… Damn fool! Of course, it fell into Yaxley's hands, they all collect these artifacts to show off to each other. If it weren't him, then it could've been any other Pure-Blood. Selling the venom was just plain dangerous, and yet; this simple fact was completely lost on this thoughtless boy.

Still, it was difficult to maintain his foul mood with Ron, given that the boy had clearly been punished for his mistakes by an uncompromising Deity. Despite his cold and frank attitude, there was something fundamentally different about Ron tonight. Even his voice felt hollow, as though Fate had squeezed the very last ounce of resistance out of her Champion. A Goddess who tortures a boy until he becomes as terrible as his enemies… So much for Magic being Sacred…

"What's taking you so long?" Ronald suddenly asked Albus. "Are you looking for my memories? Or, forging new ones?"

"Something is wrong…" Albus all but whispered, and Snape's ears perked up.

"What's the matter?" Snape asked, keeping his gaze fixed on anything but Ron.

"I can't find them," Albus replied. "The memories aren't here, there is just… nothing…" What?

"All of them?" Snape asked quickly.

"No, just his recent ones," Albus replied. "I believe that she doesn't want us to see her-"

"She's fucking shy?" Ron asked, sounding cross. "Are you serious?"

"Severus, there is only one memory I can access," Albus suddenly whispered.

"One?" Snape whispered back. "Why just one?"

"I don't know-"

"I can hear you two, I'm literally under your beard, Headmaster," Ron said, no doubt rolling his eyes. "Which memory is it?"

"I can't tell unless you let me in," Albus replied. "Or, unless we watch it in the Pensieve."

"Okay… Extract it, then," Ron said. "Why are you waiting?"

"It could be anything from last night, Ronald," Albus clarified. "Anything."

"No, she wouldn't do that," Ron shook his head. "She seals away my memories of last night, but let's me keep only one? Why? She doesn't strike me as a Goddess who misses any details."

"She's hoping to push us to a certain conclusion," Snape figured. "She wants to show us a particular memory that will push us to act in her favour."

"She told me that you two had to be put to work," Ron told them. She knows of us? Not sure how I feel about that, but given her power; I'm hardly surprised…

"She's in this very room, isn't she?" Albus asked Ron. "Watching her plans unfold."

"For all we know, yes," the boy shrugged. Brilliant, another player moving the pieces about, just what we needed.

"Severus, bring the Pensieve, it's time we saw her for ourselves," Albus ordered, there was fear behind the old man's eyes for a change.

It did very little to put Snape at ease, but as always; he followed his orders and summoned the Pensieve. Albus extracted the memory straight into the basin, which quickly began to glow with an overpowering, golden light. Merlin, that's never happened before! What's going on?!

"What's happening to it?" Ron asked, shielding his eyes from the bright light. "Is it supposed to do that?!"

"No," Albus replied, exchanging a glance with Snape. "Severus?"

"The image of a God is held within that memory," Snape guessed, he too needed to shield his eyes.

"We don't know that-" Ron started.

"But she's tampered with this memory, hasn't she?" Snape asked them. "Her Magic is different from ours-"

"I see, now," Albus nodded slowly. "Brilliant, Severus! You must be correct! We will simply need to trust ourselves!"

"Trust ourselves?" Snape asked, and Albus shot him a bright smile. What are you doing, old man?!

"Come," Albus said, walking towards the light.

"Headmaster!" Ron shot out of his seat, while Snape tried to grab the old wizard's arm.

"If she wanted to hurt us, this would not be her stratagem," Albus said, stopping his companions from interfering. "Ronald?"

Ron looked between the Headmaster and the golden light; his brow furrowed by stress. "Professor Snape?"

"Why this one memory?" Snape had to ask. "What could it be?"

"I think… I know…" Ron whispered, his gaze sticking to the light. "Yes… Of course… It had to be this one, didn't it? Anything else wouldn't work."

"Ronald?" Albus asked, while Snape eyed the young wizard. He's figured it out?

Ron's face suddenly turned cold, and his eyes aged once again. "Let's go, you really need to see this for yourselves."

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

?

She was definitely a manipulative bitch, Ron had to give Fate her dues.

"Where are we?" Snape asked, wandering through the charred street.

"This is what she showed me, but from afar…" Ron replied, looking around the lifeless street. The Earth, dead…

"This is Muggle architecture," Dumbledore noted, observing the collapsed skyscrapers in the distance. "Very modern architecture…" Modern?

"Are these cars?!" Snape called out; he had wandered a little ways down the street. "They are indeed… However, the glass has been replaced by some type of metal I don't recognize. How peculiar."

The Potions Master stood in front of a burnt metal shell, though it looked too outrageous to be a car. There's no wheels! It's just flat at the bottom! And where's the glass? How are you supposed to see where you're going?

"This is our world," Dumbledore said, walking over to them with a thoughtful expression. "However, this is certainly not our time."

"Not our time?" Ron asked, still staring at the oddly-shaped metal carcass. There's hundreds of these all over the place… Look, there's one sticking out of a building! How did it get up there?!

"This, I believe, is the ever-elusive future, gentlemen," Dumbledore all but whispered, looking around with dawning horror. "This is our future."

"How far into our future?" Snape asked. "A hundred years? Two hundred?"

"Look around you, Severus," Dumbledore replied. "Have you ever seen architecture such as this? Most of these buildings reach towards the stars, even the street lamps look far too advanced to be mere technology." Street lamps?

Ron eyed his surroundings again, noticing that the street lamps were, in fact, rather whimsical in design. Big, floating spirals… What the fuck…? You know, I can't even tell if this is London, actually. I just assumed it was-

"Ronald, are you going to add context to this memory?" Dumbledore asked; he looked shaken, or rather, as shaken as Dumbledore was capable of looking.

"I don't know much, just that this is how it ends for us," Ron replied, feeling cold and alone once again. "This is what he does when he finally reaches his boiling point."

"This is too much… Even for him…" Snape whispered to himself, disbelief all over his face. "No, he wouldn't do this; he still needs a world to rule-"

"I'm afraid this isn't the only world teeming with life," Ron cut in, stopping Snape dead in his tracks. "And he's too clever to stay on one planet for all of eternity."

"Extra-terrestrials are real, now?" Snape asked, drawing in a shaky breath."This is too much…" I know, but that's the job, isn't it? We bear it, so they don't have to.

"He couldn't control them," Dumbledore suddenly said, the old man was seemingly in a trance, no doubt horrified to the core by what they were witnessing.

"Pardon?" Ron blinked.

"He couldn't control all of them," Dumbledore looked back to Snape and Ron. "Don't you two get it? This is… We've been gone for hundreds of years, I believe. He outlived us all, he won-"

"How is this a victory?" Snape asked, gesturing towards the fiery-orange sky. "He set the world on fire!"

"This is his victory, it's the only victory he could ever hope for," Dumbledore muttered, his face gaunt and his eyes as hard as steel. "I imagine Tom never counted on this, that even after we're gone; the world would continue to resist to his evil. He must've killed all of his enemies, only to realize that his actions will always inspire defiance. Lord Voldemort will always seek to destroy what he cannot control, and for all we know; he spent eons trying to come up with ways to fulfil his greed." Fuck, he clearly ran out of patience, then.

"I doubt the Death-Eaters lasted this long into the future," Ron commented. "No one to help him-"

"No one to temper his madness," Snape corrected. "This is really it, then… Earth."

"Fate showed me hundreds of worlds within seconds, all of them destroyed just like ours," Ron said, turning both men into statues. "He never stops… This is only the beginning; he gets a taste for destroying civilizations and hoarding their knowledge for himself right here."

"Which is why this memory is the one we needed to see," Dumbledore said, and Ron nodded. She's giving them no options; they have to help me stop this before it's too late. She's showing them that we don't have time to fight amongst ourselves.

"You saw all of this horror on your own, my boy?" Dumbledore asked, giving Ron that weird look again.

"Yes," Ron replied, pushing his trauma further down. Man up, and keep moving forward.

Dumbledore said nothing; he simply looked back towards the broken skyscrapers, though Ron could easily tell that the old man was deeply bothered.

"What is it?" Ron asked. "What's wrong?"

"The mere fact that you would ask that… Even after all of this…" Dumbledore trailed off, shaking his head to himself. What's the matter with him?

"What are we going to do?" Snape asked Dumbledore. "Albus, this… We are not prepared for anything like this-"

"Neither is Tom, my friends," Dumbledore said, his voice strong again as he turned to face his allies. "This is not our future; we will not allow this to be our future! We cannot!"

"Agreed," Ron added, looking to Snape. "We have to work together to stop this, even if we can't stand each other-"

"Did I say that I can't stand you?" Snape asked coldly.

"No, but you've been avoiding looking at me, which is exactly what you do when you're angry with me," Ron pointed out, not feeling upset with Snape's ire. I deserve it, but right now; there are more important matters than pointing fingers. You can do that after the Dark Lord and I are dead and buried.

"You sold Basilisk Venom for petty-" Snape started, a sneer already on his face.

"Severus," Dumbledore stepped in, stopping the Potions Master from giving Ron a piece of his mind. "We have all tasted failure before, we all have regrets that we've carried for a lifetime, and Ronald is no different." Huh?

Ron was touched by Dumbledore's previous promise to 'always' stay by his side, but to actually see the old man simply forgive his actions was… jarring…

He had expected disappointment, maybe even anger, but never forgiveness and understanding. It left him confused, and rather suspicious of the very clever Headmaster. Words are just words, Ron… Don't expect anything, it's the only way you won't be disappointed. What matters is that the mission is back on track, I won't lose their support in the war.

"She's showing us what we have to lose, Professor," Ron said to Snape, finally managing to look away from the Headmaster. He seriously forgives me? But why? What's his angle, now? "Can you honestly look at this and still focus only on my mistake? I didn't ask for any of this, I'm just trying my best to keep this future at bay…" I didn't ask for any of it, not a single moment, and I would happily give it all back for some peace and quiet.

Snape said nothing, opting to observe his surrounding one last time before vanishing out of the memory. Right…

"He's lost more than most to Tom's madness," Dumbledore said, he too could not stop observing his surroundings. "Give him time, Ronald; he is still struggling to regain who he once was." His torture? I suppose that sort of suffering never truly leaves you, I would know. "Is there anything else that you need to share with me, Ronald?"

"Yes, actually," Ron replied. "This feels like a new start for us, so… I killed Fudge right before she came to me, I found him trying to flee the country. That's where I was most of yesterday, I was setting up a trap for him."

Dumbledore's eyes locked onto Ron's, but he said absolutely nothing. Well? Don't you have anything to say about that?

"Then, you have stolen justice from the countless Cornelius hurt with his short-sightedness," Dumbledore eventually said, sounding very tired. "He will never be tried, he will never be found guilty, and the families that he helped destroy will never get closure. We will have to hide his disappearance for your sake, leading thousands to believe that he got away with it all-"

"But he didn't-"

"A cold comfort to those who were waiting for their share of justice," Dumbledore said. "You took that from them, and not because Cornelius was too dangerous to be left alive. No, that excuse won't work this time, Ronald. You murdered him simply because he angered you, not for the sake of others." He thinks I'll feel guilty for killing scum like Fudge? Well, I don't. I don't have any guilt, mercy, or kindness for my enemies, not one speck! Not anymore! No one has any fucking mercy for me, so why should I be any different?! I'll be worse than them, all of them!

Dumbledore then shot one last look at the skyscrapers, his eyes making an unspoken vow. "Come, Ronald; the past is the past. We have work to do." The Horcruxes… Should I tell them about what I've learned? Or, should I wait to find out more? Fate clearly has some plan for Dumbledore; she told me to just hand the information over to him and to not interfere… Well, fuck her and her plans; I'm not sending the old man to his death just to give that golden tart what she wants. I can't trust her, I just can't. If she wants him to retrieve the Ring so badly, she can come down and ask him herself. My job is to find out what she's after, and hopefully, thwart her before it's too late.

---

Pansy Parkinson's POV

Monday 15th March, 1994 (The Northern Wing– Past Midnight)

"These apples… Sweet Circe," Pansy finished her third one, tossing the core away. "Coming here was definitely the right decision, we can go the Library some other night. It's not as if those books are going anywhere."

"Some other night?" Neville asked, stopping just before a bite. "You want to do this again?"

"Of course!" Pansy beamed, mostly because it seemed to put him at ease. We had fun tonight, but he's still so unsure about everything. I don't get it.

"That's brilliant," Neville's lips quirked up as he shifted in his spot. "I mean, I'd like to do this again, as well." That's better.

"Then, we're both agreed," Pansy said, shifting a little closer to him.

He tensed up, again, but at least he didn't make a move to distance himself from her. This time…

Throughout their 'date', Pansy had attempted to introduce a bit of romance into the mix, but for Neville Longbottom, even handholding was too much. He would always shoot her a nervous smile, before promptly moving away. She had read that respecting boundaries was important, however, after a night of constant rejection; she was becoming rather impatient with the meek Gryffindor. If he weren't so easy to talk to, I would've called this night a failure-

"Why did you ask me out, Pansy?" Neville suddenly asked, interrupting her thoughts. Huh?

"Sorry, Neville?" Pansy asked, she hadn't quite caught that.

"Why me? Why not ask Harry? Or, Dean? Or, even Seamus-?" Neville started; his brow furrowed.

"Why not you?" Pansy turned it around.

"Can you not do that this time, please?" Neville asked, sounding a bit agitated. Okay… What's gone wrong all of a sudden? "I don't want to sound rude, but… Do you have some sort of scheme-?"

"Scheme?" Pansy interrupted, shifting away from him. "You think this is a scheme?" Scheme? That makes me sound so sleazy!

Neville went very still, staring at her like a deer caught in headlights. "Um… I… I just don't see what you get out of this-"

"I'm starting to wonder that myself, Longbottom," Pansy frowned, why did he have to ruin it?! "There is no 'scheme'! I've wanted to see the castle at night for the longest time, but I've got no one to go with! Tracey promised to come with me, but she's gone-!"

Pansy stopped abruptly, feeling a horrid sting in her heart. Gone? Dead is the more fitting word, isn't it? Tracey's dead… Her shoulders slumped on their own, and all of her previous excitement was doused by an overwhelming sense of longing. Why did he have to go and ruin it? And why did I have to bring up Tracey?

Neville, unfortunately, just sat there, staring at her with a strange mixture of awkwardness and sympathy that was perfectly suited for his softer features. "Sorry…"

"There's no scheme here," Pansy scoffed coldly. "We were having a good time, simple, but you had to go ruin it-"

"I didn't mean to-"

"Why are you so nervous and unsure?" Pansy asked outright, she no longer saw any need to hide her curiosity. "I was trying to hold your hand all night, but you just wouldn't let me! Why? Don't you want a girl to hold your hand?" What sort of boy are you?!

"Of course, I do!" Neville answered, a little too loudly.

"Are you sure about that?" Pansy sassed, catching his eyes. "Well, here! Hold my hand, then!" He won't be able to, I bet.

Neville's eyes widened in the face of Pansy's extended hand, which only served to irk Pansy further. I knew it, he's a coward. However, just as she was about to pull her hand back, Neville, very slowly, reached across and took her hand in his. It was warm, and a little sweaty, but Pansy didn't mind because the warmth felt divine in comparison to the night's chilly breeze.

The pair just sat there, both of them shocked that this was actually happening. They were finally holding hands, and by the look of it, neither of them wanted to be the first to let go. Please don't get nervous, now, Neville. Please-

"My palms were sweaty…" Neville admitted, his voice weak and embarrassed. "I didn't want you to think that I was… gross…" Really? That's it?

"We get sweaty palms too, Neville," Pansy pointed out. I want him to warm up my other hand as well. I didn't know that I was so cold until now.

"Your palms were sweaty as well?" Neville asked, surprised. No, and we should probably stop saying sweaty. It's ruining the moment.

"I'm not scheming against you," Pansy told him, offering him her other hand, which he didn't take. "Warm this hand with your spare one, please."

"Oh… Right," Neville took her other hand, turning a little in order to face her fully. "Why don't I cast the Warming Charm? It's getting a bit cold-"

"No, this is much better," Pansy shut the idea down immediately. "Now, can I explain why I asked you instead of, say, Potter?"

"You don't have to… I was being a prat-"

"You're different," Pansy spoke from the heart, she knew how important that was, now. "Even when I compare you to the Hufflepuffs, you're different."

"Different?" Neville asked slowly. His eyes look like tiny chocolates. I love them!

"You're trying very hard to be nice to us, and not just at the study group," Pansy clarified. "I noticed, and I liked what I saw." Oh, that was a good line!

Neville's brow became furrowed in confusion; his big, brown eyes expecting an explanation. Up close, his face is a bit round… I suppose it still suits him, unlike my nose, which is nothing to envy. I'll have it fixed up, made a little bigger to match my face. Mother can't scream at me for even suggesting it now, so what's stopping me?

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Neville," Pansy smirked, teasing. "You wave at us, smile like you mean it, and you even agreed to sneak about the castle with me tonight. Potter wouldn't do that, and neither would Finnegan, or, Thomas."

"They would-" Neville tried.

"They wouldn't, and I don't expect them to either," Pansy shrugged, it was their loss. "I'm in Slytherin, they're in Gryffindor, and in their eyes; that's too much of a difference." Why is he looking more and more upset? Oh! "They aren't mean to me, don't get me wrong; none of them are wilfully rude! And I don't have the best history with the Lions…" You know that more than most. Damn.

"Oh, good," Neville's forehead unwrinkled. "Because Harry promised me that he wouldn't antagonize the Slytherins without provocation, especially not Ron." That's actually a relief to hear. I'll have to tell Ron this tomorrow.

"See? Right there, you're actively trying to be friends with us," Pansy couldn't help but smile. "I'm really lucky, you know? I've never even held hands with a boy before, not in a romantic sense-"

"You haven't?" Neville looked surprised, which stung more than she cared to admit. The rumours reached him as well? Did… Did he agree to come with me because he's expecting…? No… I don't believe he's like that- "Pansy? Are you all right? You've gone very quiet."

"Those rumours… They aren't true," Pansy plucked up the courage to speak the words, nearly letting out a shaky breath at the end. "I've never done anything… sexual… before… Ever." Wait, I did give Ron that kiss once, but I'm not going to share that with Neville. That barely even counted!

Neville looked awkward, as expected, but also rather relieved, which certainly piqued Pansy's interest.

"So, we're both new at this, then?" Neville asked, sitting up straighter and smiling more fully. Um… He's certainly chipper all of a sudden.

"Yes," Pansy cleared her throat, deciding to match Neville's new-found energy. "That's what I was saying, that I'm lucky you agreed to this. You have a comforting aura about you, Neville. Makes me feel safe!" And you're letting me set the pace without expecting anything in return, I think that's really sweet.

Neville looked more baffled than ever, but his smile never wavered, which Pansy took as a good sign. I think we've found our footing! This is exactly what Witch Weekly was talking about! Daphne and Millie are going to eat their words for breakfast-!

"OI! You two down there! What're you doing?! Stealing apples?!" Filch's horrible voice rang out, murdering the romantic setting within a heartbeat.

Neville's pretty eyes nearly shot out of his skull, while Pansy sucked in as much air as she could in order to smother her brewing scream. Where is he?! He sounds so close!

The pair shot up to their feet, hands still locked together.

"My wand's inside my robe," Pansy gasped, looking down at their joined hands.

"Run!" Neville broke into a sprint, leading her by her right hand. He's going to break my hand!

"Get back here!" Filch's voice rang out. He's behind us!

Pansy couldn't help herself; she glanced back, only to be stunned by the glow of Filch's lamp. He was close, but he was struggling to keep up with them; his lamplight was growing ever smaller as Pansy and Neville dashed up a flight of stairs. I'm wearing red and gold, please let that be enough to fool him!

"Neville, slow down, please," Pansy panted, trying to come to a stop as they re-entered the centre of Hogwarts; the Moving Staircase. "My wand, I can hide us with it. Filch isn't behind us anymore-"

"The twins told me that Filch got himself Sneakoscope," Neville cut in, shooting a panicked glance behind them. "He prowls the castle all night, searching for them. He's not going to stop until he catches us, now." Ugh… Why now, of all the times?!

Pansy pouted, but didn't complain; following Neville all the way up the Moving Staircase and into a dark corridor on the fifth floor. Where has he brought us? I can't see anything-

"Feel this door? It leads to a secret slide down into the Dungeons-" Neville started, placing her hand against a wooden surface.

"Hold on, what?" Pansy blinked, returning from her brooding. Secret slide? Is that what he said?

"Past this door, there a little hole in the wall," Neville whispered, looking around them for any signs of Filch. "We don't have much time; you'll have to trust me. The twins showed Harry and me this when-" he stopped abruptly. "Never mind, it really works, and it'll take you right into the Dungeons. Please, hurry, I think the prefects might be joining Filch soon." He's starting to unravel again. The night ends here, then. Shame… I wanted to see more.

"Did you have fun?" Pansy had to ask, and judging by the silence that met her question; she knew that Neville was caught off-guard again.

"I… Yeah, loads," Neville suddenly chuckled, it was hard to see his face, but he was definitely smiling.

"Good," Pansy beamed, tightening her hold on his hand. At least I held his hand, that still counts as a victory for me, right? "So, you won't mind doing this again? Soon, I hope?"

"He'll be on the lookout for us, but yes," Neville agreed almost instantly. "Definitely!"

"Okay," Pansy's smile nearly split her face. What now, though? It can't just end so abruptly, right?

"Um… Goodnight, then," Neville whispered, giving her hand a squeeze. Go on, at least try to make a move… I want you to, it's why I'm not running away!

She couldn't quite see his face, but his figure remained motionless. Pansy shifted in her spot, giving his hand another squeeze as a hint, one that seemed to find its mark, as Neville ever-so-slowly began to bow his head. He's going to kiss me?! How bold! Pansy leaned her head up, closing her eyes in expectation. Any second, now-

His lips landed on her cheek, just a couple of inches away from her tiny nose, planting a timid kiss before their owner took a step away; letting go of her hand. He kissed my face, instead? That was… nice… The kiss was barely more than a peck, but it had made her heart flutter and dance just as she had hoped, and for that alone; she knew that she'd cherish Neville Longbottom.

For just one second; it felt as though she was living in her dreams. After months of grief and dread, Neville Longbottom had given her a brief moment of respite, taking her on a Magical date through a mysterious castle. The perfect first date… This has to be it! I only thought about Trace at the start-

"Good-… Goodnight," Neville whispered, his voice rushed.

"Bye…" Pansy mumbled out, too busy smiling like a moron at his withdrawing shadow. Quick, he's almost gone, you fool! "Talk to me tomorrow! Okay?!"

Neville stopped, turning back around and waving at her. "C- Can't wait!"

Pansy leaned back against the door, content as she saw Neville's figure finally disappear, no doubt off to Gryffindor Tower to tell Potter of his night. This didn't bother Pansy, of course; she was about to go tell her best friends the very same story. The. Perfect. Date.

Pansy hummed a tune to herself as she danced her way through the door, using her wand to finally banish the darkness away and revealing a very peculiar hole at the end of the closet sized room. Hogwarts will always remain a mystery to me. Who even built this slide? Her head felt lighter than it had in weeks, she didn't even feel the need to hide away in better memories tonight. Ron forgave Millie, my parents are not a part of my life anymore, I finally experienced a proper date with a nice boy, and Easter Break is almost here.

Pansy's smile faltered a little as she reached the 'secret slide'; if only Tracey were here to share in her happiness. They were never going to be complete without her, they all knew this, but were powerless to change it. That's the worst part… Knowing that we can't even help our own friend. How would she feel if she were here? If she saw-

Pansy shook her head clear, forcing herself to forget her problems. Don't ruin tonight as well, please. Just think of Neville, and how you're going to see him at breakfast. Think about that.

Pansy tucked her wand close to her chest and climbed into the hole, eager to return to her friends, and hopefully, brighten their night with her adventure.

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Monday 15th March, 1994 (The Sanctuary– Late Night)

Ron stared down at the Marauder's Map, his ever-watchful eyes scanning the school for any form of danger one last time before bed. No one here who shouldn't be here, and Pansy's staying put inside Slytherin. I can sleep, now.

Ron let out a pained grunt as he hobbled out of his chair, he ended most days feeling sore and tired lately. It'll pay off in the end, it has to. By the time he reached his bed, his legs had lost all strength, causing him to drop unceremoniously onto his feathery-haven. Fuck… I'm spent…

It had been a long day, and although he had gotten through his conversation with the Headmaster and Professor Snape in one piece; he knew that said conversation wasn't over just yet. There would be more questions, more panic, more questions, and then; they'd begin forming a new plan of attack. But as for now, they need time to come to terms with what we saw. They're not like me, they always need a few days to process this sort of stuff. Plus, it's best if I stay out of Professor Snape's way for a while; he'll be doubly pissed when the Headmaster tells him about Fudge.

Snape had left by the time Dumbledore and Ron had come out of the memory, no doubt because he couldn't stand the sight of Ron, but most probably because he needed a stiffer drink than wine after what he had seen. An entire world… Billions dead…

Coldness washed over him again, filling him with dread and hopelessness, but Ron simply pushed harder and harder until his feelings were suppressed once again. I'll stop it, I have to. There's no one but me.

Ron sat up, his eyes drifting towards the sandpit. "No one but me…"

With another pained grunt, Ron rolled off of his arse, lethargically making his way over to the pit. Just a little more before bed, just a little more. The next time I face the Loyalists, it'll be them who die, not me. Come on, Ron… Just a little more, and then; you can rest.

---

Harry Potter's POV

Monday 15th March, 1994 (The Black Lake – Early Morning)

"He's doing it, again," Hermione whispered, her voice a mixture of exasperation and ire.

Harry shot a subtle glance towards his best mate, only to catch Neville shooting a bashful smile at Pansy Parkinson once again. This had been going on all morning, as they were all waiting for Ron, who was uncharacteristically late. One of recently coupled would start smiling at the other, until eventually; both were smiling like fools and trying to hide their face from the other.

It was… weird, and Harry didn't quite understand why his best mate was suddenly acting so friendly with a girl who used to bully him, however; Harry found himself quite happy to see Neville in such high spirits. His date clearly worked out; I knew he had no reason to worry. He's a stand-up bloke, even Parkinson saw that!

"So?" Harry couldn't help but snigger, lightly shoving Neville. "How was your night?"

"Huh?" Neville finally looked away from the Slytherins. "Did you say something, Harry?"

"What time did you get in, Neville?" Hermione asked, her eyes narrowed. "Must've been late, because I was studying until midnight…" I was already asleep! It must've gone late!

"Oh, Pansy and I lost track of time," Neville chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. Did you, now?

"Go on," Harry cracked a crooked grin.

"Yes… Go on," Hermione whispered, almost as if warning Neville.

Neville exchanged a not-so-subtle glance with Harry, who quickly lost his own enthusiasm over Neville's date. She's being very hostile this morning-

"Hi!" Ginny suddenly ran over, Luna hot on her heels. Jesus! Where did she come from?! "So?! Neville?!"

"Yes?" Neville looked towards Ron's sisters, spooked. "What is it-?"

"Don't keep us in suspense," Luna giggled, her body lightly swaying in the wind. "Pansy is really happy, so we already know-"

"She is?" Neville asked, his eyes flashing. "You asked her?"

"She's been showing you her teeth all morning, hasn't she?" Hermione asked dully. "Ginny, Luna, do you two want to stretch with me? Somewhere else would be nice."

"Okay," Luna agreed instantly, while Ginny looked between the trio. Don't look at me, I don't know what's going on with her.

"…Sure, Hermione, let's go," Ginny said, her eyes lingering on Neville before Hermione all but dragged the two younger witches away. Yeah… Something's off, even I can tell, now.

"She really doesn't like Pansy, does she?" Neville eventually sighed out, rubbing his face. "We're fighting, Harry. Again." Yes, that does happen a lot, especially lately.

"She's just stressed, Nev," Harry tried. "You've seen her workload; it would drive anyone a little barmy."

"Then, she should stop taking every subject," Neville said, sounding frustrated for a change. "I haven't done anything to her, have I?"

"Not that I know of…" Harry answered awkwardly; he hated getting caught between his best mates. "Maybe, you two should just talk-"

"Everything all right, Neville?" came Parkinson's voice, she had clearly seen Hermione storm off.

"Oh! Yes!" Neville quickly turned on his heel, his dumb smile back in place. "Hi…"

"Good morning," Parkinson giggled, looking genuinely happy to see Neville. It's definitely weird seeing her be pleasant for a change. I didn't even know that she could look anything but smug.

"Hi…" Neville repeated, his smile widening. "Um… I had loads of fun last night." Should I leave? No, I'm hardly interrupting.

"Me too," Parkinson looked even more pleased. "Which is why we should do it again, don't you think?"

"I… Yes, yes, that'd be brilliant," Neville laughed a little too loudly; he was getting nervous again, Harry could tell.

"We should probably wait a bit before we sneak about the castle again, though," Pansy said, taking a step closer to Neville. "I reckon Filch will be on alert, now." I'm just standing here… Staring at them both while they discuss their next date. Okay, I need to leave-

"There he is!" Nott's voice rang out, and they all looked towards the castle in time to see Ron limping down the uneven slopes. What's wrong with him? Wait… He looks hurt!

"Why's he limping?" Neville whispered, while Pansy let out a long sigh.

"He got himself hurt, again," Pansy replied, keeping her voice low. "Just don't ask him about it, okay? Leave it." What?

"You're not worried about him?" Harry had to ask. "How can you just leave it?"

"Don't be daft, Potter, of course, I'm worried," Pansy whispered, shooting a glance back at the other Slytherins. "Look, they've all noticed too, but they won't comment on it either."

"Why?" Neville asked, both boys leaning in a bit.

"He's changed, remember? It angers him whenever anyone questions him," Pansy gave Neville a meaningful look. "Just don't ask him, Neville, please?"

"Okay…" Neville agreed slowly, looking towards Harry.

"No asking, got it," Harry agreed, upholding his promise. Still, he seems to hurt himself a lot… Why is he so intent on training himself? I still don't get that.

"Thank you, Potter, it means a lot to him that you're being-" Pansy started.

"Ron, what's wrong with your leg?" Ginny asked, and every eye shot towards her. She asked him…

Ron stilled right before reaching them, his baggy eyes travelling towards Ginny lethargically. He looked like a corpse, an actual walking corpse! His skin was sallow, his cheeks gaunt, his eyes blood-shot, and his injured leg was struggling to hold him in one place, and yet, the sheer intensity behind his eyes was enough to keep them all silent and rooted.

"Never mind my leg, why are you all still standing around?" Ron asked, looking towards Nott. "Theo? Didn't I tell you to start without me if I were ever late?"

"Oh… Well, yes," Nott started, smirking. "But you see, we were waiting for you because…" he trailed off. "Okay, usually, I can come up with excuses much faster-"

"Just. Get. Started." Ron all but snarled, glaring murder at Nott. "Fucking idiot, what's the point in asking you for anything if you can't follow the simplest instruction?" Woah… Why would he say that to his own friend? He actually meant that, I could hear it in his voice!

"Right… Let's go," Nott muttered, pulling a funny face at his other mates before heading off. Nott's not even bothered? What?! If Neville said that to me, I would be shocked!

"You still haven't explained what's wrong with your leg?" Ginny asked, crossing her arms. "And what's your problem, huh? Wake up on the wrong side of the bed, did you?" Ginny, maybe that's not such a smart idea…

"This rude brat…" Pansy muttered under her breath. "Sorry, Neville, but you and I are going right now. I don't want to be here if he gets angry." What is happening here? Does he get angry with them often? That doesn't sound right to me.

Harry looked between the Slytherins and Ron, even Greengrass was keen to avoid eye contact with him this morning. It feels like this has happened before; they all knew what to do well before he even said a word.

"My leg is fine," Ron drew in a shaky breath, not bothering to put any effort into his lie. "Go, Ginny… You too, Luna… Please."

Pansy suddenly took Neville's hand, eliciting a surprised yelp from the Gryffindor seconds before he was dragged away, leaving Harry by himself. Bit by bit, the group broke off into smaller groups, until finally, only Harry and Ron remained on the shore.

A part of Harry was dying to question Ron about his foul mood, and to perhaps even find out if Ron was treating his friends poorly, but in the end; Harry settled for biting his tongue. Just remember that Ron has a lot of problems. He's not well most of the time, and if he ever acts out; it's usually because he's scared. That's what Sirius told me, and since he knows Ron better than most-

"Why are you still standing here?" Ron cut into Harry's thoughts.

"Pardon?" Harry blinked, slowly looking around him. "They're all gone… Even Hermione-"

"She left with Ginny and Luna," Ron cut in, limping over to Harry.

Out of instinct, Harry took a step back, not eager to be on the end of Ron's anger ever again. My face still hurts when I think about it… Though, in hindsight, I did deserve it a little…

"Lost in your thoughts?" Ron asked, tapping Harry's forehead a little too hard.

"Ow," Harry rubbed the irritated spot. "That hurt, Ron…"

"That hurt?" Ron asked, shooting Harry a frown. "I imagine that you'll have to get used to it, Harry, so my advice would be to toughen up a little."

"Look, I don't know why you're upset this morning, but I'm not a Slytherin," Harry put his foot down. "I don't have to-"

"Save me the speech, I don't care," Ron said icily. "We're running together this morning; I'm going to test you."

"Test me?" Harry asked, slightly put off by the idea.

"Yes, Boy-Who-Lived," Ron said, sounding almost bitter. "I'm going to test you, because unlike the others; you don't get a say in your future. You're going to face the Dark Lord, remember?"

Harry went perfectly still, his fists, however, clenched until the knuckles were bone-white at the mere mention of Voldemort.

"What's the point of the test?" Harry had to ask.

"If you impress me," Ron started, leaning forward until his face was mere inches from Harry's. "You get to become my latest student." Student? What…?

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Monday 15th March, 1994 (The Black Lake –Morning)

Ron wasn't impressed in the slightest, not with any of them. Even with a hobbled leg and barely any sleep, he had outrun them through sheer will and effort, while they had all 'taken it easy', as usual.

With less and less time left on his clock, their laziness was quickly losing its charm, instead giving Ron sleepless nights as he witnessed his friends fall one-by-one because he hadn't pushed them to be more prepared. Even last night, Ron could not escape his nightmares. Despite his obvious exhaustion; he felt as though he would never fall asleep again. Not sure I even want to, it's a massive waste of my time. I could be doing anything but just lying there in the dark for hours on end.

"So?" Harry panted; he was bent over next to Ron. "How was that? Seven laps in this cold isn't too bad, eh?" It's pathetic.

"You did well," Ron lied, finally giving Harry a bit of a smile to put him at ease.

It worked, as Harry shot a quick smile back before resuming his heavy breathing. What am I supposed to do about him? He needs to be stronger than this, to be able to keep pushing, despite the cold and pain.

"You'll teach me, now?" Harry asked curiously, standing upright. "You know, Ron, I don't really need a tutor-"

"Who told you that?" Ron asked, his brow furrowing.

"Well, I'm not struggling in any of my classes," Harry started; he wasn't exactly keen to become his own classmate's 'student'. "Nor am I behind in anything-"

"I'm not planning to improve your grades, Harry," Ron interjected. "All I want is for you to be able to defend yourself against You-Know-Who, and if you don't want the same thing, then you've clearly escaped from St. Mungo's Psych Ward."

"Remus is already-"

"Does it bother you that I'm offering you help?" Ron asked, he already knew what this was. He's proud, just like Charlie and my parents.

"No, of course not," Harry lied quickly. Brilliant… Now, I have to convince him that he needs to shape up, or, he's going to get himself, and all of us, killed.

"Harry, there aren't a lot of people who line up to help me," Ron started, trying his best not to raise his voice. "Often times, I have to do everything by myself, and believe me; no one should have to do that. You have the chance to get all the help you need, from me and from the Professors. Don't waste that, please."

"You're being strange, today, Ron," Harry finally said it, looking conflicted about asking questions. "Is… Is everything all right?" No, nothing is all right.

"No…" Ron just couldn't bring himself to lie. "No, it isn't…"

"Do you want to talk about it?" Harry asked awkwardly. Gods, no!

Where would he even start?

"Don't worry about me," Ron said, subtly eyeing his friends, who were having a chat not far from them. "Just focus on becoming a stronger wizard, Harry. People are going to need you soon; you can't let them down."

"I won't…" Harry said, looking confused and worried. "Ron-"

"I think you can do one more lap," Ron said, testing Harry further. "Go on, finish on an even eight." He won't, they never push themselves.

"Eight?" Harry looked around the shore, still regaining his breath. "An even eight? Actually, sure, I think I could do one more." Huh?

Ron found himself caught off-guard, and he never got a chance to say anything before Harry ran off with a parting nod. That… was different… But good on him, I think mentioning the Dark Lord lit a fire under his arse. Feeling a little better thanks to Harry, Ron decided to take a seat and rest his aching leg, the P-12 had a nasty habit of aiming for Ron's legs now. Need better footing, Ron, that's why you got hurt. It's your fault, always.

His hands massaged his leg absent-mindedly, while his eyes surveyed the calm surface of the Black Lake. It was so strange to stare at this empty lake, especially given that he had once seen it filled with the corpses of his schoolmates. And right over there is where I saw that girl being raped… Just right over there, where Hermione is chatting with Luna.

Ron knew that he was struggling more than ever to juggle his duties as the Champion and to be a functional human being at the same time, however, given recent events; he simply saw no alternative other than to drop one of the two. No more being human, I think I'm well past that at this point-

"Still brooding?" came Theo's voice, and Ron looked up to see the weedy Slytherin smiling down at him.

Ron immediately felt a pang of guilt; he shouldn't have been so rude so early in the morning. Why didn't he just follow the instructions, though? Just why? I don't get it.

"Sorry about this morning…" Ron muttered, looking back down. "You're not an idiot, Theo. I am."

"Want to tell me what upset you?" Theo's smile widened as he took a seat next to Ron. "Also, you look ghastly, mate. And please, stop with the self-pity, it's not appealing in the slightest."

"Thanks…" Ron drawled, wincing a bit as pain shot up his leg.

"What happened?"

"P-12 kicked the back of my knee, then stomped on my thigh," Ron whispered through gritted teeth. "I think it broke something in there."

"You didn't check?" Theo blinked, his smile dying on his face. "Merlin's beard, Ron! And you just decided to go running with an injured leg?"

"It's fine," Ron dug his own fingers into his leg. Stop hurting! Stop it right now!

"Okay, I tried being subtle, but you're fucking scaring me, now," Theo got up. "I'm getting Daphne, she was spot on about you-"

"Spot on?" Ron asked. "What's her problem with me, now?" She probably sent him here to hound me. Why is she doing this to me?

Theo frowned at that; his eyes kept darting towards Ron's leg.

"Look at you, Ron," Theo replied. "You're the one with the problem, not her." What? "I'm fetching her, and then; she's taking you to Madam Pomfrey. You need to start your sessions again, mate, because ever since you stopped going, you've completely lost it."

"Are you done?" Ron asked, losing all interest in the conversation.

"No," Theo's frown deepened. "I'm not done, not until you do something about that leg of yours."

"Just leave me be-"

"No."

"Theo, I'm really not in the mood today-"

"Tough," Theo stood firm. "You keep saying that you worry about us, which is why you push us to work harder, right? Well, we worry about you too, so when we tell you to go get help, you ought to listen once in a while. You like things being fair, Ron? Try being fair once yourself."

"Everything all right, Theo?" came Blaise's voice, both Daphne and he had arrived to investigate the commotion.

Ron looked around the shore, the others had also overheard Theo's raised voice, and were now watching the scene unfold with unblinking eyes. Brilliant… Drama… I don't have time for this tripe, I can get more training done before classes start. Occlumency training, that is. Maybe it'll help with the pain, mixed with some of that Numbing Balm I got from Professor Snape. Now, that sounds like a good plan.

Ron slowly raised himself up, his face unable to maintain its expression as pain shot up his back as well. Fuck, I'm sore everywhere…

"I'll see you in class," Ron said, limping past his friends.

"Stubborn moron," Theo muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

"Ron, why don't you want to go to Madam Pomfrey?" Daphne asked, urgency in her voice. "You don't have to talk to her if you don't want to, just have your leg examined, please!"

"I can heal it myself," Ron lied, he had tried and failed already. Which tells me that my Healing skills could use some polish as well. I should be able to heal injuries like this on the spot, it could one day help me save someone's life.

"If you know how to heal your leg, then why are you limping?" Blaise asked, his voice unfeeling. "Strange that you'd leave an injury untended, given that it'll slow down your training, which is something you'd never allow. So, what's your next lie?"

Ron stopped in his tracks, thinking very carefully about why he had decided to not have his leg healed by a staff member. I just want to be left alone, to not have to interact with anyone. I want to be away from this place, this fucking planet and all of its problems.

The Sanctuary almost called out to him at that, as if his bastion had sensed his distress and need for solitude. You know what? Fuck my classes too, I can't be bothered. It's not like I'll learn anything of value from them, I've already read and practised all the material.

Saying nothing, Ron continued on his way, ignoring their looks and voices until he no longer had to deal with either. If I hurry, I could be within the Sanctuary well before any of the Gryffindors leave their Tower.

---

Draco Malfoy's POV

Monday 15th March, 1994 (The Great Hall – Morning)

Draco had gone unnoticed the entire morning, but this wasn't exactly new for him. Whenever Weasley wasn't present, the others felt no need to hide their distaste of Draco, even to his face. They weren't outright rude, of course, but they didn't appreciate him voicing his opinions.

He couldn't exactly blame them anymore; he'd mostly seen the error of his ways. Watching his father constantly humiliate his friends had taught Draco to do the very same, and so, at every turn; he had sought to embarrass them. He had revelled in it; enjoyed the crestfallen looks on their faces, it had made him feel so close to his father. But I was no different from Flint… An ape. A brute without the brawn. I wonder what Weasley will turn into? He's got both brain and brawn; I hope I'm well away from this place before he cracks.

"He's getting worse," Blaise noted, looking towards Greengrass. "Aren't you going to talk to him?"

"Why does it have to be me every time?" Greengrass sighed out. "I feel as though he hates me now because I keep nagging him-"

"He's walking around on a broken leg, Daphne," Theo cut in. "Well, not broken, but still!" That certainly needs to end-… No, I don't care.

Draco shifted in his spot, Weasley's current trajectory didn't sit well with him. He hated to admit it, but Weasley had become a pillar of strength for the abandoned Slytherin. Weasley was kind when he needn't be, and he had stayed true to his word in protecting Draco. And not just from Flint, but even from myself. Damn…

"Maybe we should just tell Madam Pomfrey?" Bulstrode suggested. Yes, tattle on him again, I'm sure that will end well for you.

"We can't do that, it would hurt him if we went behind his back," Greengrass discouraged. Thank you. "We can't make things worse for him, agreed?"

"What if we all talk to him together?" Pansy asked. "All seven of us." Seven? "He'll definitely listen to Marty, they're best friends." Ah, the world makes sense again.

"Marty's tried, he's told me so himself," Greengrass muttered, her posture tense. "He came to me, asking me to 'fix Master' for him… How am I supposed to do that, exactly? I don't even know what's causing him so much pain, none of us do. Is it Trace…? Or, his work outside of Hogwarts?" She doesn't like admitting that she doesn't know what to do. Is it strange that I can sympathise with him, whereas Greengrass can't? No, I suppose not… She's still Daphne Greengrass, Heiress to the wealthiest wizard in Magical Britain.

Unlike anyone else on this table, Draco knew what it was like to lose everything, which is exactly what had happened to Weasley in recent weeks. He's reminding me of how I was just a few months ago, and… I don't like it… He's not supposed to be like that. Weasley's meant to be… better… Ugh, what am I thinking-?

"Malfoy?" Greengrass called for his attention, surprising the platinum-blonde. Me?

"Asking the devil for help?" Pansy asked, shooting Draco a scathing look. I've seen the devil, Weasley saved me from him. You have no idea what you're on about.

"Ron likes him," Greengrass said, her voice and stare ice-cold. "You two get along, don't you?" What am I supposed to say? I don't want to admit to-

"They do banter quite a lot," Theo pointed out, not hiding his displeasure. "So, Malfoy, any suggestions?"

Draco didn't know what to say, was he supposed to explain why Weasley was spiralling down the rabbit hole? It wouldn't exactly be hard, but it would cause controversy. Mostly for Bulstrode, she's the one who inflicted the deepest cut.

There was also the risk of leaving himself vulnerable, as Draco only understood Weasley's erratic behaviour thanks to personal experience. We've both got nothing, now. A Weasley and a Malfoy on the same boat? I would laugh, but it's actually quite pathetic.

"You owe him," Blaise stated the obvious. I know that, don't feel the need to remind me. "If you know anything, you need to share it with us."

Draco looked down at his plate, focusing his thoughts before speaking. He had to be careful, unless he wanted to be shunned further. However, the prospect of being the one to help Weasley for a change was… pleasant, even if he had to step on a few toes. A Malfoy should pay his debts, even to a Weasley.

Lucius Malfoy would be disgusted with his errant son's 'progressive' thinking, but for the very first time in his life; Draco cared more about his own opinions than his father's. I wouldn't have betrayed Godfather like that, not for anything. Father's allegiance with the Dark Lord has destroyed our family completely; he's not even half as intelligent as he always let on-

"Malfoy?" Greengrass called again.

"He's not going to help-" Pansy started.

"You're expecting too much from him," Draco said, focusing his gaze on Greengrass only.

"Pardon-?" the blonde Heiress was quick to look offended.

"All of you, I mean," Draco clarified, he had expected their sour expressions. "You wanted to hear my thoughts, so listen, all right? You lot probably think you know more about Weasley's business than I do, but in the last few weeks; his business has become everyone's business."

"The Trial," Blaise remembered. "Everyone got a peek into Ron's life, basically. Well, all the parts he kept to himself, at least…"

"Exactly," Draco said, his tone inferring how obvious everything was. "He has nothing left, nothing at all. His perfect relationship with Greengrass got burnt to a crisp-"

"Don't, Malfoy, I'm warning you," Greengrass looked more hurt than angry. Don't be a 'cunt', Draco… That was an unworthy thing to throw in her face. Not to mention that Blaise looks ready to beat you, as do Theo and Bulstrode…

"Sorry," Draco all but whispered, not entirely eager to admit to any wrongdoing. "Look, everything he really held close to heart got snatched away from him. His plans for that Sanctuary of his were sabotaged, his reputation was dragged through the mud by the Ministry… Oh, and you know how he always swears to 'protect' us?" He speaks as though he'll be on the front lines. He is a bit delusional; I can't ignore that.

The others nodded, all of their foreheads crinkled, save for Bulstrode's. You know what you did, I'm not going to bother repeating it.

"Tracey is in a coma because she protected him, not the other way around," Draco continued, trying to ignore just how miserable Tracey's situation made him feel. "Losing her like that, it couldn't have been easy on him. And… we all know what happened next…" Draco trailed off, leaving everyone uncomfortable. What would I have done if Weasley had succeeded? I… don't want to think about it. Too much would change, and I don't want a headache before class.

"Even after everything, though; he still had one thing left," Draco decided to finish up, he didn't enjoy feeling sorry for Weasley. "His privacy."

"Which he was forced to give up because of Fudge, that creepy oaf," Pansy added, frowning in contempt. "Poor Ron…"

"His secrets have always been the most important thing to him," Draco said. Sorry, Greengrass, but you know it's true. "Now, everyone knows everything; there are no more secrets. Have you seen the way everyone's been treating him lately?"

"Um… Like he's fucking royalty," Theo replied, his eyes narrowed. Covetous, as always.

"Ron doesn't enjoy being coddled," Bulstrode pointed out. "And he especially hates being pitied."

"True," Theo nodded in agreement, looking wistful. "He does stiffen up like a board anytime he's around other people, even the common room is too much for his nerves."

"Forget the common room, what about our room? Is he never coming back?" Blaise asked, sounding almost as though he missed the redhead. I know now that I do, there was a lot more laughter when he was around. And it was good for him too, it gave him a reason to forget about how unfair his life has been. Merlin… More sympathy for Weasley… What's gone wrong up there-?

"I'm glad I asked you, Malfoy, you seem quite insightful when it comes to Ron," Greengrass said, her voice cold and proper once again. A little too insightful, I'm guessing? She's got that look in her eyes again, the territorial Banshee that she is.

"I've been in his shoes, still am, in a way…" Draco shrugged, trying not to think about his life. "So, I can tell. Nothing special about it."

"You've been in his shoes?" Pansy looked ready to laugh, and honestly; it hurt. "You're the son of Lucius Malfoy, you have entire dungeons full of gold-"

"I haven't seen, nor, heard from my father since… I can't even remember…" Draco cut her off, sneering at her startled face. "I don't know if he's dead, or, if he's been locked away by the Dark Lord for torture. The next time I see my father, it'll probably be in Azkaban… As for those dungeons full of gold, I'll have you know that the Order sacked my home, burning down my childhood in the process. They even took my mother as their captive, locked her away like she is some common criminal not worthy of a fair trial. I don't even know if they ever let her see the sun, or, if she's being fed enough meals…" When I see her again, I'm never letting go of her hand. Never. The Order will have to tear us apart.

Even Greengrass looked solemn at that, while Parkinson averted her gaze in shame. Don't bother, they don't care one bit… The only person who cares for me in this group is gone, and…

Draco looked back down to his plate, his food cold and forgotten, and he made a very daring decision for himself. I want him back, Traditions be damned. Life was better when he was around, with his sharp wit and vulgar humour. Draco drew in a deep breath; he was going to do this. He was going to try to bring Weasley back, even if it meant embarrassing himself. What sort of Malfoy am I…? Whatever. I don't care anymore; I just want my friend back-

"Apologize to him," Draco heard Greengrass hiss, followed by a thud under the table. Don't, I don't want some insincere apology, not ever.

"I was out of line-" Parkinson started; her voice guilty.

"It's fine," Draco stood up, eager for his solitude to begin. "I'm going to go get my books, don't be late. You know how McGonagall is about 'Slytherin tardiness', don't you?"

"Wait, what do we do about Ron?" Blaise asked. They weren't listening?

"Leave him alone, sometimes, people just need some quiet to think their lives through," Draco replied, walking off, but not before seeing Greengrass agree with him for once. I don't care about what they plan to do, I know what I'm going to do. But before I get ahead of myself, I need to come up with a plan. A very carefully thought out plan, because this is still Weasley I'm dealing with. A broken jaw wouldn't quite suit me, I think.

Lost in his thoughts, Draco made it all the way down to the Dungeons before releasing that the footsteps had doubled. Someone was behind him, and they were approaching quickly.

Draco reached for his wand, but was stilled by a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Malfoy, a word?" Samantha Selwyn was looking down at him over his shoulder. The creepy one… Just my luck.

"Do you often crawl out of people's shadows?" Draco asked, hoping that she couldn't hear his erratic heartbeat.

"Only when I need to," Selwyn replied coldly.

"So, what is it you need from me?" Draco asked. "I don't have anything worth offering-"

"I'm sorry to hear about how severe your situation is," Selwyn cut in, speaking as though she really wasn't. "It must be hard on you-"

"You were listening?" Draco asked, had they been carelessly overheard? We're fucking dead… All seven of us will be buried by Sunday! "How-… How long?"

"Since the beginning," Selwyn confessed easily enough. "I was sitting with the fourth years, the girls are having trouble-"

"You show me a great deal of disrespect, Selwyn," Draco nearly snarled. "I'm still a Malfoy, I'll have your ears sliced off the next time-"

"Does that make you feel strong, Malfoy?" Selwyn asked calmly, her dark eyes resembled the abyss under the torchlight. "Does threatening me make you feel like a 'proper' Lord?"

"Wha-… What's that supposed to mean?" Draco asked, jarred but still angry.

"I didn't mean to overhear you, but you were quite passionate, and stupidly careless," Selwyn said, taking a step forward and frowning deeply. "Stow away your threats, Malfoy, I have work for you." Work?

"I don't work for you," Draco frowned.

"Work? Oh, I meant favour," Selwyn said, her focus unphased.

"I'm sure…" Draco drawled.

"I want you to tell me where Weasley is hiding," Selwyn said, and Draco nearly laughed.

"No, thank you," Draco turned to leave. "Are you bloody mental-?"

"Stop, I heard that he was hurt, as well," Selwyn pulled him back.

"Don't do that," Draco hissed at the manhandling, while she snaked her arm around his shoulders. Um… Too close…

"Don't do what?" she asked, her expression blank.

Draco shrunk the more he stared at her, how was she so calm when their faces were so close?! She was practically hugging him! Scandalous wench, unhand me-!

"I need his help, and it sounds like he needs mine," Selwyn said, her eyes snaring him in place. Help? She can help Weasley?

"You need his help?" Draco asked, digging for information first. "What's wrong? Tell me, and I'll pass on the message."

"I don't think so-"

"Then, let me go," Draco shifted in his spot, and for the first time; she fucking smiled.

It was almost playful, amused even, as if she were pulling his leg and he hadn't caught on yet. His thoughts came to a halt, and all he could focus on was breathing very, very slowly. That's a pleasant perfume… It's elegant, with a rich aroma of… coffee-

"You're new at this, I take it," Selwyn let go of him, and he quickly began fixing his robes in order to hide his blush. "Sorry, I thought your father would have given you some training… Never mind, I'm sorry-"

"It's fine," Draco huffed, his cheeks even more flushed. "Just leave it…"

"You're cute-"

"Sod off," Draco nearly stormed off, but she was quick to grab his arm, again. "Woman, your hands are far too free-!"

"I need his help, please," Selwyn said, her desperate voice almost proving it. "It's important, Malfoy, I'm in trouble… I don't want to turn to him, for anything-" she stopped, looking doubtful of herself. So, they are fighting, then? "But I need his help… I'll owe you one." Wow, she's truly desperate, then.

"It's hard, isn't it?" Draco smirked, taking his petty revenge. "To be dethroned by him, because I remember that you played your part in dethroning me-"

"What throne?" Selwyn asked. "You were small, Malfoy, that was your problem. Now, prove that you've changed, and tell me where he is."

Draco wasn't planning to tell her about Weasley's secret room, but Selwyn was a well-known Healer amongst the Hogwarts student body. Not only that, but Madam Pomfrey lets her take over during my sessions. Selwyn could heal Weasley's leg, and none of the Professors need to know.

"I'll tell him that you want to see him," Draco said, bringing another smile to her face. Don't blush again, Malfoy men don't blush! "But don't ask too much of him, he's got enough problems of his own to deal with."

"Yes, I overheard that too," she was quick to go back to being made of stone. "Tonight, at six. Northern Wing."

"What about training?" Draco asked.

"You lot can handle the first years, surely?" Selwyn all but challenged. "He doesn't oversee every session."

"Fine… Can I go, now?" Draco asked, the bell would be rung soon. "I have McGonagall in the morning-"

"Oh, sorry," Selwyn let go, nudging him along. "Don't forget any homework you might have-"

"I know, I know…" Draco rolled his eyes, some of the Slytherin seventh years had parent complexes. Tonight, at six. Northern Wing. I'll need to come up with my own plan to get Weasley to return, but until then, at least his leg is taken care of.

Draco felt a surge of pride, which was not followed up by a need to be smug, which was a strange change.

He simply felt content, even if no one was ever going to praise him for his efforts.

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Monday 15th March, 1994 (The Northern Wing – Evening)

"You can go back to Slytherin, now," Ron said, sensing that Samantha was close by. Her Magic feels… like air… Soft, subtle, and serene.

"Let's find her first," Draco was quick to argue. He feels raw, vulnerable, and exposed. Like a fresh cut that won't stop bleeding.

"I've already found her," Ron said, stopping in order to rest his leg. "She's just up ahead."

Draco looked towards the end of the hallway, and then back to Ron. Don't give me that look-

"I could make a poor jest about you seeing things, however-"

"I'll see you around, Draco-" Ron started, almost amused.

"You still haven't explained why you skipped classes today," Draco cut in. "And stop using my name."

"I like your name," Ron shot a smirk over his shoulder, hoping to annoy Draco into leaving. "The Dragon! I mean, you're more like a stringy worm, but it's still wicked-"

"The Professors went looking for you," Draco frowned deeply. "Dumbledore made up some lie about you being away on 'business', which raises another question…" Fuck. "Why is that barmy codger covering for you?"

"Don't speak about him like that," Ron scolded offhandedly. "Now, go train the first years, before Tori convinces them to mutiny in your absence."

"Tsk, I don't like that one," Draco drawled, turning to leave. "Pretentious little brat-"

"Can you stop insulting other people?" Ron asked. Someone is going to clock him one of these days, and then I'll have to go clock them. Too much effort.

"Don't skip classes, Weasley," Draco said, sounding agitated. "You're causing a ruckus, and people notice ruckuses. I thought you wanted privacy?"

"I do…" Ron said, regretting his decision. What am I doing with my life…?

"Then, stop it," Draco shot another frown in Ron's direction. "Come back to class, and when you're ready, come back to Slytherin. Hiding from your problems won't make them disappear, remember? You taught me that."

Ron said nothing, simply noticing that Draco was looking tense. Is it that hard for him to say something nice to me? Should I stop him? For his own good? I don't want him to pop a blood vessel.

"My problems won," Ron said, limping off. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Before Draco could question him about skipping dinner again, Ron limped off. She's close, let's just get this over with. He wanted to be wrapped up inside his blanket again, resting his aching leg by the fireplace with a cup of tea. If only I had enough Numbing Balm for both my leg and forearm. I can't even ask for more, because Professor Snape wants to gut me.

He had thought about using Torpor on his leg, but decided against having to hop everywhere on one leg, just in case of an emergency like this. Samantha is asking for my help… This is probably a trap, but I'm going to let things play out. If someone jumps me, fuck it… I'll let them beat me… Maybe one of them will kick me in the right spot and kill me? A man can dream.

Ron shot one last look back, and upon seeing that Draco had left and could no longer be sensed, the redhead entered the abandoned classroom that was calling out to him. It's getting easier to sense her, and she's alone. Hm… No ambush, then?

After drawing in a deep breath, and focusing his thoughts, Ron entered the room. She stood at the opposite end of the room, staring at a dusty chalkboard. She looks so out of place in here, like a shiny, new needle in a dirty haystack full of cobwebs. Easy to find, why would she put herself in such a vulnerable position? Must be desperate-

"You're staring," Samantha turned around, closing her convenient make-up case, which happened to have a mirror. Ah, maybe not so desperate.

"How can I not?" Ron asked, hoping to be pleasant.

Samantha's lips curled up in disgust, her hatred of him finally revealed. I… overstepped, didn't I?

"Don't flirt with me," she almost spat out. "We are not friends, not after what you've done to Carey-"

"Sorry," Ron remained unaffected, he was used to people misreading him. "I just wanted this to be civil, I won't do it again." Think before you speak next time, moron.

Her face slowly returned to normal, but he could see her displeasure lingering within her eyes. She didn't want to be here, and she had chosen an isolated location because she didn't want to be seen with him, not because she wanted to lay a trap.

Not keen to let an awkward silence settle in, Ron began making his way over to the slender witch. Merlin, my fucking foot is like a button. Anytime I put pressure on it, there's pain in response. He made it halfway before dropping onto a dusty chair, his eyes watery. Fuck this… I'm going to call Marty… He'll fuss and probably start crying, but I can't take it anymore-

"You really are hurt, then?" Samantha asked, her voice icy.

"Draco told you?" Ron asked, wiping at his eyes. "That's not like him."

"He's afraid of you, is he? Just like everyone else," Samantha said, as if making a point.

"Yes, I'm revolting…" Ron chuckled, but he meant it. I made the right decision when I moved out of Slytherin, I'm sure there are more smiles around when I'm away.

Samantha narrowed her eyes, critically watching Ron, who ignored her in favour of tenderly massaging his injury. Just think about that cosy fire, Ron. Think of the peace and quiet, and the comfort of being by yourself.

"What do you need help with?" Ron asked, moving the conversation along.

Samantha unnarrowed her eyes, slowly moving closer to him; her guard up. Am I an animal in her eyes? Heh… Maybe everyone is right? Maybe I'm the problem, it's why everything I touch turns to shit.

"Corban Yaxley has invited me to dinner," Samantha revealed the truth. "He expects me to honour my Family's allegiance to him." Fucking pompous prick.

Ron rolled his eyes; he had reached his limit with these Lords and Ladies as well. Self-entitled prats, smelling their own farts and fucking their own cousins…

"He'll expect you to honour more than your Family's allegiance," Ron figured, adults generally enjoyed abusing the young and the weak, at least from what Ron had seen.

"The Order isn't enough, and unlike Carey and Clara, I've got no parents-"

"You don't have to explain anything to me," Ron said. "You want to be surrounded by others like you, those who can shield you from men like Yaxley? Done. I'm thinking of meeting with my aunt Muriel tomorrow, something small, but you're welcome to join me."

Samantha looked taken aback, a look that didn't suit her in the slightest. "Just like that?"

"I'm not going to exploit you," Ron said, averting his gaze. "I don't want any trouble, I'll come get you before I leave tomorrow…" he trailed off. She doesn't want to be seen with me, does she? "Actually, just meet me near the Headmaster's Office after classes. I'll try not to be late."

With that, his work was done, and he could return to studying the Healing Arts in comfort. But first, I have to go up all those steps… Bloody hell, I hope the creator of the P-12 model gets the Dragon Pox!

Ron let out a sorry whimper as he stood up, using a nearby table to support his weight. He felt no embarrassment, he knew that he made for a pathetic sight, but after the last few months; Ron had even lost his need to appear powerful. I'm not powerful… But that is exactly why I'll win, because I'm not blinded by the clouds.

"What's happened to you?" Samantha broke her silence, stopping Ron.

"Draco told me that you were eavesdropping on him," Ron revealed, making Samantha go still. "It's fine… Everyone knows everything, anyway, no harm done. Just don't do it again, walk away the next time." A bit lenient, but I've caused her enough pain for one lifetime.

Samantha gave a slow nod, her brow furrowed in thought. I better send Helios to aunt Muriel; it'd be rude to bring a guest without warning her.

"I should go, the Owlery is… pretty far from here," Ron said, frowning a little to himself. I'm calling Marty after I get some privacy, he can bring Helios-

"What about your leg?" Samantha asked suddenly.

"What about it?" Ron asked in response.

"You can barely put any weight on it," Samantha studied his leg, her eyes showing no concern for her patient. "It's not broken, is it?"

"I don't think so," Ron replied. "Don't worry about it, I'm learning how to fix it-"

"Learning? So, you're really not going to Pomfrey?" Samantha sounded displeased. "She could patch you up within minutes."

"And then, she'd start bringing up things I don't want to talk about, shit that makes me feel…" Ron stopped, letting out a long breath. Fuck it, I'm leaving. Why am I even explaining myself to her? "Don't be late tomorrow. My aunt is a stern old bat, but she'll watch out for you and keep men like Yaxley in their place. I'm sure of it."

"Did Malfoy not mention my end of the deal?" Samantha asked, somehow looking even colder than before. He did, and I can see on your face that you don't want to be anywhere near me for another second.

"You don't have to do that," Ron began limping away. "Draco doesn't know what I did to… Sorry about him-"

"I can't just let you leave, not when I know that you're hurt," Samantha said, locking the door with a flick of her wand. "I'm studying to become a Healer, Weasley, and I plan to take the Healer's Oath. I can't do that with a clear conscious if I let you hobble away." It's my entire thigh… It's bruised completely. I'll need to take off my trousers for her to have a look… No, I'm not going to put her through that, no matter how much my leg hurts. It'll have to be Marty.

"Do you really want to be near me for another second?" Ron asked plainly, turning to face her again.

Samantha, shockingly, scowled at him, appearing genuinely irked. "I don't, but you don't get to make that decision for me." What-? "The real question is, do you want that leg healed, or, not? I'm starting to think that you don't, which is why you're so keen to be on your way."

"Of course, I want it healed, it hurts-"

"Then, take off your trousers," Samantha walked over to him, proving to him that she was still taller. "Now."

"You can't be serious-" Ron started, but the look on her face stopped his tongue.

"I need to see what I'm Healing, be reasonable," Samantha frowned.

"There's nothing reasonable about this…" Ron muttered under his breath, unsure of how to proceed.

His injury was definitely holding him back, there was no denying that. He didn't enjoy taking days off, as he spent most of his free time stressing over every minute detail of his disastrous life. It was only during difficult times, or, when he was in a fight, that he could forget about how bleak his existence truly was. Thirty minutes of awkwardness, and then, I can get on with the mission. Or, I refuse, and put Marty through a nervous breakdown because he can't stand to see me hurt.

Ron shifted in his spot, feeling increasingly embarrassed and insecure. The fucking scars… I'll have to show them to her-

"You have nothing I haven't seen before, Weasley," Samantha said coldly. You might be eating those words soon.

"You're not queasy around scars, are you…?" Ron asked, a part of him had tried to silence the words before they had left his mouth. We're showing weakness… It's wrong…

Something shifted behind her cold eyes, and Ron could swear that, for the briefest of moments, she had looked at him with the same care she had grown to display over the years.

But that concern was gone before Ron could even hope to feel comforted by it.

"I've seen plenty of those too," Samantha said, gesturing him towards the teacher's table. "Let's just get this over with, shall we?"

"Right… Sure…"

---

Albus Dumbledore's POV

Monday 15th March, 1994 (The Headmaster's Office – Night)

"He's completely out of control, now," Severus ranted on, a permanent sneer in place. "Fudge's murder proves it; the boy must be kept under watch, for his own good and for the good of others. The pressure has cracked him…"

Severus' words became nothing more than white noise, as Albus still found himself disconnected from his reality. His mind felt trapped within Ronald's memory of the Earth's future, raped and ravaged by Lord Voldemort, and no matter what Albus tried; his mind simply couldn't recover from what it had witnessed.

Genocide on a planetary scale, the end of the Earth itself. No, not just our planet… He moved on to other worlds, didn't he? Why? Why would he risk his life by leaving an empty world? It took billions of deaths for him to realize that no man is an island? Or, did he simply crave more destruction? Did eternity, and the Dark Arts, make him more than just a man?

Albus had no doubts that Severus' foul mood was also a symptom of feeling powerless, from feeling burdened with more than any one person should, but the Potions Master's lack of empathy in regards to Ronald, a child trapped at the centre of this madness, was beginning to frustrate the Grand Sorcerer.

For years, Albus had held out hope that Severus would learn to put himself in the shoes of others, however; time and time again, Severus proved that he was still trapped in the past. He's still that angry little boy, pushing everyone away in the hopes of protecting himself.

"…At the very least, we sit him down and tell him that we can't keep working with him, not as he is now," Severus went on, speaking more to himself than to Albus, at this point. "He's gone too far this time; he needs to be punished in some way that hurts him-"

"Punished in some way that hurts him?" Albus finally spoke, raising his gaze to meet Severus'. You want to hurt that poor boy even more? Where did I go wrong with you, Severus? Did I fail you as well?

The Potions Master was slightly taken aback by Albus' sudden intensity, but he was quick to recover.

"He's killed over forty people in the last month," Severus stated, frowning deeply. "That we know of, I might add."

"I agree that Ronald has fallen far from his perch," Albus started, while Severus gave a nod. "However, what bothers me most is that you are very quick to judge him so severely, given your own history."

Severus' body went still, whereas his frown deepened and his forehead crinkled.

"You're going to defend him, even now-?"

"Especially now," Albus nearly raised his voice, he was at the end of his wits. "I stood by you, did I not? Even after your numerous crimes, even after you played a key role in the deaths of my friends, did I not stand by you, Severus? Answer me this, now."

"He has to understand that there are consequences-"

"He has to understand mercy!" Albus finally reached his limit. "He has to understand that, many a time, it takes more strength and courage to lay down one's weapon, instead of raising it in rage! This, Severus, is what he needs to understand, not your twisted sense of justice, which happens to conveniently ignore your many lapses in judgement! Now, enough, I will not hear another word about punishing Ronald further, am I understood?!"

Much like a scolded child, Severus averted his gaze and began brooding to himself, stubbornly holding onto the idea that his methods would yield the best results. Do not lose your composure, fear is the enemy of wisdom. Ease your mind, find your centre.

Albus drew in a tired breath, feeling older than ever and wondering if he'd even live long enough to see the end of his latest war. Most likely not, which is why I must work to secure the future now, while I still have a part to play.

"Now is not the time to punish each other," Albus restarted, keeping frustration out of his voice. "You and I can both safely agree that what we saw will continue to haunt us for years, so just take a moment to imagine what that does to a child? A boy who is being forced to shoulder the future of the Universe all on his own, what does that boy turn into? How long before the weight finally breaks him?"

Severus' sneer slowly ebbed away, his prosthetic hand running through his hair. Was that so hard to do on your own?

"We've seen war, fought and killed in it," Albus said. "But before that, we lived our lives, despite how said lives turned out; we got the chance to experience innocence. Ronald was denied even this, so is it any wonder that he lives in darker humours than most?"

"What do you suggest, then?" Severus asked. "We ignore his actions going forward? Scold him once in a while and pretend like he respects us?" I saw the answer last night, when he showed no remorse over Cornelius' murder. Ronald is mimicking the world around him, as any child would. So, it stands to reason that, if his world was made brighter; he would look towards the light more often.

"As a boy, I had many admirers and followers," Albus leaned forward, putting on a smile to ease Severus' mind. "To some, this might seem like a boon, but to me; it was a curse. I had very few friends, Severus, and many of them eventually used me in some way to promote themselves within the Wizarding Community. I was a lonely child… As I'm sure you can understand."

Severus drew in a calming breath, his jaw clenching. Steady, tread very carefully, Albus.

"When you confessed to me, when you told me your story; I saw that you were very much like me," Albus's eyes twinkled. "Lonely despite your brilliance, mistreated by the Fates to live a shackled life, angry at everyone for being held back by your own emotions, susceptible to your own darker nature-"

"Stop, Albus-" Severus looked very uncomfortable.

"But most of all; redeemable," Albus finished, almost enjoying how uncomfortable Severus looked.

He was getting through to his embittered friend, as Severus certainly contained the capacity to love. I've seen him care for others; he would even lay down his life for any student within this castle. But he's convinced himself that he's evil, and as such; he must act the part of a monster, biting any hand that reaches out to him. I promised myself I'd change that, and now; I'm going to deliver on that promise, even if I have to throw Severus 'into the deep end', as the Muggles would say.

"Ronald is like us, Severus, only that he's still young," Albus urged, he could see that he was getting through to the jaded Ex-Death-Eater. "With him, we have the chance to save someone from turning out as we did; tired and full of regrets. But our window is slim, and we've let him down in the past… He doesn't expect us to care, he doesn't expect anyone to care, which is the kind of thinking we need to change."

Feeling impassioned by his own speech, Albus' eyes glowed and his chest puffed up. Severus will hate this, but he has to do it. Ronald needs to reminded that there is more to life than struggle and grief; he has to see the joy friendship can bring. He has to experience love! And good food! And dancing! These memories will give him power that even Lord Voldemort knows not!

"We will start by forgiving Ronald, and in the act, show him the benefits of letting go of the past," Albus explained his plan. "Then, you and I must make an effort to make Ronald feel wanted, cherished, even-"

"Cherished?" Severus glowered. "I don't do 'cherished', Albus-"

"You must, or, Ronald will continue down the darker road," Albus said decisively, leaving no room for argument. "Today, he skipped his classes… Tomorrow, he may leave the school entirely, and then where will we be?"

Severus let out a sigh, massaging his sore leg absentmindedly, whilst his mind struggled with which road to travel. One more push, Albus, don't go easy on him, now. He's stagnated, become trapped in his sorrow and is unable to move on with his life. That's no way to live.

"My boy, please," Albus all but begged, pushing on despite Severus' discomfort. "Do you know what thinking is? It's just a fancy way of saying you've changed your mind. Change your mind about this, Severus, don't punish him; forgive him. Choose forgiveness just this once, and finally put my endless speeches to the test."

The two wizards locked eyes, their wills put to the test, and it wasn't long before Albus knew that he had won. Good, I knew that you would make the right decision, my friend.

"Where do we start…?" Severus didn't sound keen, but Albus knew that he could count on the Potions Master.

"You're going to hate this next part, but that's the beauty of it; Ronald will never expect it!" Albus beamed, while Severus slowly began to sneer again. Hold on, Ronald, help is on the way.

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Tuesday 16th March, 1994 (The Seventh Floor – After Classes)

Ron shifted his weight from leg to leg, noticing a considerable increase in strength. Everyone's right, aren't they? I'm pushing my body too hard, and it's weakening me even further. But not as much as that traitor… Where are you, coward? Why aren't you stepping into the light? Show yourself, or, do I really need to summon you as if you are a child?

"Weasley," Samantha came into view, tucking her wand away into her robes. "Sorry, I felt the need to change, your aunt's reputation precedes her." It does.

"You're not late," Ron found it hard to meet her gaze, or, to stand still. She had me in my boxers yesterday, she even had to touch my thighs-

"You're being immature about this," Samantha frowned.

"Sorry…" Ron felt his ears burn. Moron.

"I healed your leg, I've done the very same procedure on every lad that plays Quidditch," Samantha told him. "Imagine how many pull their cocks out and make things truly awkward?" I'd really rather not. "Get over it, and let's get going."

Deciding not to argue, Ron turned and whispered the password to the Stone Gargoyle, who was quick to move out of their way. It's learned that I don't like to be kept waiting? That a bit scary…

He led the way up the stairs, stopping only to knock on the door before entering.

"Forgive the intrusion, Headmaster, but we're in a rush," Ron apologized, closing the door behind Samantha.

"Pardon us," Samantha also apologized, giving a courteous bow.

Dumbledore chuckled from behind his desk, no doubt amused by her formal greeting.

"Consider yourselves pardoned," Dumbledore laughed, surprising Ron. He's in a good mood? How? Oh, wait, he's putting up a front! Samantha doesn't know what we know, of course. I should probably make an effort too, at least a little so people don't get too curious.

"We're off to see my aunt Muriel, Samantha wants to meet her," Ron reported, already moving towards the fireplace. The sooner I stop intruding, the sooner he can go back to his thoughts.

"There's no trouble, I hope," Dumbledore said, his eyes studying Samantha. "Do you have anything to tell me, my dear?"

Samantha looked uncertain, while Ron decided to leave the choice in her hands, but mostly because he wanted to test her loyalty. She better tell him everything; he has to be able to trust her. Surely, she understands that, right?

"Lord Yaxley has invited me to dine with him during the Break… Alone…" Samantha admitted, grimacing slightly.

"Ah, how tactful," something shifted behind the old man's eyes, something dangerous. "Do you require aid in this matter? I can speak to Corban on your behalf, if you wish it so." Speak to him? Or, blast him into a bloody mist? I'm not so sure right now.

"I know how to defend my own honour, Headmaster," Samantha said, refusing Dumbledore's offer of help. "I simply need to be given a chance by my own people." My own people? Ugh…

"Let's go," Ron said, preparing the floo and ignoring Samantha's remark. My alliance isn't meant to just represent the Pure-Bloods, it's supposed to be bigger than that… Damn, maybe I've become far too reliant on their money? There's not a single person in my alliance who isn't wealthy and comfortable… No one represents the ones I'm supposed to help!

Ron clicked his tongue, going through the flames with a deep frown. This needs to change, as soon as possible. If I just hand power to more Pure-Bloods, nothing will really change. Only the rich will get a say in what the future looks like, and I can't allow that to happen. I can't let there be another Cycle, ever! For anyone!

"Are you all right?" Samantha asked, following Ron at a distance. "You look bothered all of a sudden."

"I just had a thought, that's all," Ron said, keeping his expression blank. A revelation, really… Why didn't I think of this sooner? Probably because I'm a fucking idiot, that's honestly the only explanation I can see at this point.

"A thought about what?" Samantha asked.

"You want conversation? Now?" Ron asked, shooting a glance back. "You're not nervous, are you?"

Samantha said nothing, simply shooting him a look of displeasure. Oh… Nice one, Ron, brilliant work as always. You should work as a suicide-aide in your spare time, you'd become the world's most successful man within weeks!

"Don't worry, she's a good woman," Ron stopped, forcing Samantha to do the same. She always stays a foot away, not that I blame her. Still, it does bother me… Which then makes me feel worse because of what I did… What the fuck is my brain doing up there? Having a seizure?

"A good woman? I've heard different tales-"

"You'd best be careful, not all of these paintings are inanimate," Ron whispered, his eyes moving about the modestly decorated hallway. "Come, let's not keep her waiting, I don't want to hear an earful from her about manners."

They both resumed their journey, and Samantha spent the majority of it studying her surroundings. She's trying to find information, isn't she? Anything of note to enhance conversations, questions to ask in order to stroke the other person's ego; all important factors to consider before an important conversation. She has no clue that she's already guaranteed help, because I'm going to make sure of it. She did a good job on my leg, and that has to be rewarded.

"If she gives you sass, don't be afraid to talk back," Ron advised just as they neared the dining room entrance. "Show her that you have a spine, not that you're obedient."

"Do I look obedient to you?" Samantha asked, rolling her eyes. I was just trying to help… Whatever, I'll keep my mouth shut. Seems life is easier that way, keeping your distance and avoiding long conversations which might lead into confrontation. Best to just remain quiet.

Ron led the way inside, spotting his old aunt at the head of the polished, mahogany table. It wasn't a monstrosity like the dining table within Greengrass Manor; this table was made for a family. It was inviting, and deep down, Ron wished that he could own a table of this kind one day. Wouldn't that be nice, eh, Ronnie? A table fit for a family…

"You're late," Muriel frowned, gesturing them to sit down. "Your bird made it in time, looking close to death. How dare you treat your companion so roughly, boy? Who raised you? A pack of dogs?" She just gets going, doesn't she?

"You just wasted thirty seconds of my already-shortened life," Ron said as he sat down, signalling Samantha to do the same. "Thank you, auntie. It's always a displeasure to see you."

Muriel smirked, finally taking the time to study her kin. Her beady, blood-shot eyes felt judgemental, but Ron remained unaffected. He was tired, he was running on fumes, and he was going to collapse very soon; these were just facts.

"Is trouble heading your way, nephew?" Muriel finally broke the silence, still ignoring Samantha. Trouble already came… On my face, actually. All over it.

"I'm not the one in trouble," Ron diverted attention away from himself.

"Our conversation will continue later, then," Muriel wasn't so easily fooled, but she did do Samantha the kindness of finally noticing her. "Lady Selwyn, I must admit I'm surprised to see you here."

"May I ask why?" Samantha asked. "You don't know anything about me."

"I know that your father played a part in the deaths of my beloved Fabian and Gideon," Muriel replied calmly, though her eyes made no effort to hide her distaste. "So, yes, I am very much surprised to see you here. I had thought that you would be a little wiser than this, my dear."

"What will you do if I'm attacked?" Samantha asked, looking towards Ron. Me? Oh, I need to pick her side here. Right. Cutis Terra.

With his Magic augmenting him, Ron gripped the edge of the table with his fingers, tightening his hold until his fingers were trembling from the sheer force they were exerting. Shatter!

The wood cracked, losing against Ron's might, which quickly elicited an annoyed croak out of aunt Muriel. While his aunt went off about the rarity of the table, and Samantha gawked at his withdrawing fingers and the damage they had left behind; Ron used his Occlumency training to regain his composure.

However, there was one emotion he couldn't bury; joy. If I can't have this table, then no one can have it.

"Samantha, tell her about the invitation," Ron said, ignoring his aunt's ire.

"Invitation?" Muriel stopped, looking towards Samantha. "From whom?"

"Corban Yaxley," Samantha replied, producing the letter via Conjuration. Did she just…? Is she willing to share her tricks? One more favour? No… I can't be that shameless, it would be wrong. I guess.

"Another young one has caught his fancy, then?" Muriel looked mildly annoyed. "That man will stick his prick into anything that isn't his wife, I swear." Didn't need that fucking image, thank you. "Hm, you are beautiful, so I'm willing to believe this story of yours."

"It's not a story, take the letter," Samantha said, but Muriel refused to even acknowledge it.

"And you?" Muriel asked Ron. "Are you helping her because she's beautiful? Is that what this is? You're letting puberty decide-?"

"Again, I will be dead very, very soon," Ron reminded them both, stopping the old bitch's rant short. "I don't intend to leave some poor girl to pick up the pieces of her broken heart once I'm gone…" Daphne, I really wish we hadn't dated… Not even a little flirting; you would be happier now if that were the case. I never should have mixed you up in my madness. "Please, just get on with it, read the fucking letter. I have other business to discuss with you, 'Lord Rape-Face' isn't exactly someone I enjoy thinking of."

Ron then drew in a deep breath, deciding to hurry things along so he could return to his room.

"She needs protection from men like Yaxley, because there will be others, we all know it," Ron started, while Samantha simply stared at him. "But if she has women like you beside her, and women like Lady Longbottom, then even the likes of Lucius Malfoy would think twice before admiring her 'beauty', as you put it. She's hoping to join us, auntie, at a time when we sorely need more allies."

"I see," Muriel gave a nod, having returned to her usual self. "Well, Lady Selwyn, is this true? You want to join us?"

"'Want' is the wrong word, I would prefer you use the word 'need', instead," Samantha replied. "I'm no fool… I know I stand little chance against some of the Lords who have watched me grow up with eager eyes, whispering to each other behind my back at every gathering…" That's just fucking gross, that is. I wonder if Daphne, Pansy, Millie, and even Tracey ever feel this way. Should I ask them? Or, should I just watch out for them? Smack anyone who gets too creepy near them?

"You are wiser than most your age, then," Muriel sounded pleased. "I can see why you brought her here, Ronald. She will do nicely, I believe, if she can be trusted."

"She will prove it, I'm sure," Ron drawled, feeling impatient. "Now, about why I'm here-"

"So, I'm in?" Samantha asked Muriel.

"He already decided that for me," Muriel stated, both witches looking towards Ron. "Isn't that right, Ronald?"

"He will hurt her," Ron couldn't make it simpler, there was no other reason needed to interfere. Damn Death-Eater, I won't let you get away with anything. You'll fucking die, and so will your friends and anyone who stands up to defend you.

Samantha looked unsure of what to say; she definitely didn't want to show Ron any form of gratitude, and Ron didn't want her to. So, he did the only thing he was good at; he moved onwards.

"The people of Knockturn Alley… Enough is enough, what the fuck are we doing about them?" Ron asked, shifting in his chair. "Did Sirius manage to get an estimate of the costs to rebuild the district? Lord Greengrass mentioned something about Sirius stepping on everyone's toes in his last letter… Explain that as well, please."

"He wants to prove something, I say you let him," Muriel shrugged. "Less work for us, that man isn't completely useless. He's got a sharp mind, and a head for numbers, I'm told. Fawley seems to trust him, that's good enough for me." And you trust Lord Fawley, now. Good, my plan is working. They're becoming friends, and soon, they'll stick together because they care for each other, not because there's money to be made and glory to be had.

"He's picked a strange time to start proving himself," Ron sighed out. "Just don't let him piss the others off, he's got a habit of getting on people's nerves-"

"Has the Ministry agreed to this?" Samantha cut in.

Muriel let out a cold cackle, while Ron frowned deeply. No, Amelia Bones wants independence from the Pure-Bloods, but she's skint-broke. Again, why are people picking the worst time to bring about change? Am I just an arsehole? Or, is everyone out to inconvenience me?

"I'll take that… laugh… as a resounding no," Samantha said, relaxing in her chair.

Ron was surprised to see her act so… ladylike, as he was used to a more devilish side of her. She knows how to act like she's calm, I'll give her that.

"It doesn't matter what she wants," Ron started.

"Ha, I think it does, boy," Muriel interjected. "She's the bleeding Minister, in case you fell asleep after your trial."

"If I did, this must be the part where my dream turns into a nightmare," Ron mimicked her sarcastic voice. "Listen, I don't care if she's a descendent of Merlin himself; she's letting people starve and freeze because she's too proud to admit that she needs to replace one master for another. It's a bitter reality, and I've respected that, but something has to be done, now. What's the point in having you all if you can't help me do whatever I want?"

Muriel looked to Samantha with a blank expression.

"Don't you want to slap him sometimes?" Muriel asked. Yeah, I want to slap me too, get in line.

"He's got a point, though" Samantha said, much to Ron's surprise. "I get why she's refusing your help; this is her chance to make her name. History is going to remember her; she's got to leave an impression… But those people in the streets, they're going to keep dying unless someone steps up. Or, worse, they'll rebel, and the Aurors will be forced to put them down for good." I'll stop the Aurors before they touch those poor cunts, they don't deserve to keep suffering like this.

"Tell me, do you care about these people?" Muriel asked Samantha.

"Do you?" Samantha asked in response.

Ron looked to his aunt expectantly, this mattered to him. Tell the truth.

"No," Muriel admitted easily enough, which genuinely disheartened Ron.

He didn't show it, of course; he couldn't afford to be weak in front of his actual allies, but Muriel's response made him question a great deal about himself. Why had he surrounded himself with these people? Was money really more important to his cause than soul? Or, had he decided that simply because he was a greedy little shit; a creature full of envy, lust, and low cunning? You made this bed, cunt, now die in it.

"Shame, because I do," Samantha said, as if challenging Muriel. What-? "I'm studying to become a Healer, and from what I've read in The Quibbler, these people don't have long left. If you don't act now, we could be putting out the fires of a rebellion instead of building homes and shops."

"Thank you," Ron said, holding back from smiling at her. "Someone with a goddamn brain, instead of an unearned ego and a preference for inbreeding."

"Easy," Muriel frowned. Fuck you, heartless old hag. You've never gone hungry, right? I doubt you've ever been cold, even. So, why would you care about those kids out there? Fuck you… "What you suggest is impossible, the Ministry isn't exactly ready to look weak, again. Bones needs to cement her rule now, and if you get in the way of that; we'll all be attending another trial very soon."

"The Ministry can't look weak again, you're right, which is why I'm going to let the new Minister decide my fate," Ron said, deciding to finally share his plan. "I say we put the whole deal in her hands, but we do so in a very public setting."

"Explain," Muriel cocked an eyebrow.

"The main problem is starting the work, right?" Ron asked them. "We can't get started because the Aurors will rock up from their patrols, cause a ruckus and chase away any builders. Now, we can't use force against them, but no one said anything about using Invisibility Cloaks, right?"

"Invisibility Cloaks?" Muriel looked bored. "Too expensive, too impractical-"

"I have more than enough on hand," Ron said, remembering Artyom's offer. "As for why we need them; I happen to be studying Detection Wards at Hogwarts, so I'm worried that the Ministry has the district under surveillance. We'll need to sneak in, but we can't Conjure any of the building material near Knockturn Alley-"

"It has to be moved through the streets," Samantha realized. "Given this plenty of thought, have you?" There's nothing else that's worth thinking about.

"Hence the cloaks," Muriel caught on as well. "Why all the theatrics, though? Why not just talk to her?" Talk to her? As if that'll ever work… People generally don't care, and the ones in power are only in power because they never care enough to get burned.

"If we start rebuilding Knockturn Alley at night, and have something to show for our efforts in the morning, many of the homeless will flock to us," Ron explained. "I'm going to invite them to help us rebuild, it'll definitely cause a scene and bring the Aurors around, which will then bring the Minister down on us. I'm not going to challenge her openly, I'm not stupid, but I am going to make sure that everyone knows why they're going to remain homeless-"

"Is that wise?" Samantha asked.

"You will start a riot," Muriel warned. "Do you have any idea how close people are to exploding?"

"I do, far better than you, I promise," Ron felt his temper flare. "If I have to start a riot, or, grab the Minister by her throat and beat some sense into her with my own two hands; I will." Why can't I help other people without some prick with an insecure ego showing up to hassle me? Just leave me the fuck alone, let me do what I was created to do so I can fuck off. Seriously…

Muriel and Samantha exchanged looks, but neither of them said anything. Don't give me that shite, you all know I'm right. It's been fucking weeks! Just fucking stop it, now!

Ron clenched his fists under the table, feeling overwhelmed by his stress and frustrations; he was only trying to give shelter to the homeless… What was so hard to understand about that? Why even get in the way of such an endeavour? Unless their suffering gives you power? Fucking corrupt cunts… It's because of people like Bones, idiots who put politics over lives, that I have to exist; it's all their fault!

"I want this done by Friday," Ron stood up, planning to leave before he did something he would later regret. "And auntie… You better start caring about those people, or, I swear to Merlin that I'll never show my face to you again."

Muriel said nothing, which was a victory in of itself. I'll fucking do it, don't bloody test me.

"Let's go," Ron said, walking off before Samantha could even get up. "And make sure Lord Greengrass oversees Sirius, don't let that clown muck this up for us." He's one mistake away from a beating of a lifetime, I swear.

---

Twenty Minutes Later

Getting back to the Stone Gargoyle had taken more effort than Ron had cared to exert, the Headmaster was creepily insistent that they play a game of chess. 'It will be fun', he said… Don't buy it, why was he being so… jolly? Something's not right, and I'm in no mood to deal with this tripe.

"She upset you," Samantha finally spoke. And why didn't she leave? Odd, the Headmaster wasn't asking her to stay, which means that she remained behind to have a chat with me. "Your Great Aunt, it upset you when she admitted about not caring for the people trapped in Diagon Alley. I couldn't help but notice…" she trailed off.

"And?" Ron asked, looking around. Safe; I don't see anyone around us, nor can I sense a presence.

"You really care about them, don't you?" Samantha asked, almost shocked by what she had discovered. "And the Werewolves, you went to war against the Ministry for them."

"I went to war with a delusional twat, not the whole Ministry," Ron reminded her. "Most people were confused by what was happening before their eyes, whilst others were trying to climb up the ladder quicker during the panic." Ron then folded his arms, feeling a bit defensive. "You admitted that you cared about them as well, remember? Or, were you lying?"

"I care as a professional, but aside from that; you can't fault me for not caring about people I don't know," Samantha countered.

"I don't really know you, but I want to help you," Ron said, making her think twice about her next argument. "It's not wrong to want to help others, to make anyone's day just a bit easier."

"How can you believe that, and yet, have no second thoughts before destroying a young woman's life?" Samantha asked, taking a step back. "How could you do that to Carey? She cared about you, but she was scared of your ambitions. We all were. Did she deserve to have her life destroyed because she tried to keep what she had built over years of dedication?"

"No…" Ron shrunk, looking down at his feet.

"She sleeps in my bed, every fucking night," Samantha bit out, as if she was beginning to reach her limit with her friend and she resented herself for it. "She nearly fell off of her bed a couple of weeks ago, pissed herself and screamed murder for thirty minutes! I have to Silence every bloody inch of our room before bed, just in case I stop holding her in my sleep!"

Ron felt his eyes well up; he had never been good with shame. Even as a young boy, whenever their mother scolded them all together; Ron was always the first to start bawling. He hated letting others down, and lately, that's all he ever did; let down those who relied on him. It's because I'm not strong enough, so I just need to keep practising…

"I'm talking to you," Samantha raised his head with her finger, her frown vanishing at the sight of his teary eyes.

"I'm sorry about what I did…" Ron stepped away from her, shrinking again. My room… This is exactly why I don't want to leave it! I don't belong anywhere!

"You… What are you?" Samantha asked, confused and… upset?

"I don't know," it gutted him to admit it.

Merlin, it hurt so much that Ron couldn't stop himself from sobbing. What has Fate done to Us?

"You need help…" Samantha swallowed thickly, looking away. "You should just leave, Ron… Leave Hogwarts behind…" No, don't say that! I don't want to go! "You, and everyone in this school, would be better off if you were getting help as far away from here as possible."

Samantha's words were like lashes from a whip, leaving permanent marks upon Ron's mangled soul. He wanted to tell her everything, just her, just so that she could understand that he wasn't always like this… He was a good person, and he had set out to save his brother…

He was going to be a hero…

"I'm real-… really sorry… I think I'm a bad person who- who wants to delude himself into believing that he's good- but he's just not…" Ron began shaking, everything was clear to him, now. "I'll stay away… I'll… stay out of the way… Promise…"

Defeated, Ron turned around and left; coldness seeping into his bones as he skulked off to his own little corner of the world. Where I can't do any more harm… It's better this way. It has to be, or, I don't know what I'll do next… I really don't. Fuck, my chest… Is it supposed to hurt like this? Fuck…

---

Hermione Granger's POV

Wednesday 17th March, 1994 (The Potions Lab – Evening)

She had been trying to talk to Ron for two days now, but having found no such luck, as he was in a foul mood whenever he bothered to show up for class, Hermione was becoming desperate.

She had nearly fried Malfoy, and she couldn't help but think that Ron's foul mood was correlated with this unfortunate event. It was an accident; he has to understand that.

Tonight, at the Potions Club, she had finally hoped to corner him, to explain to him that she hadn't meant to lose control the way she had. It was all a misunderstanding; she needed him to see that.

"Ron, I think we're almost done," Hermione said, knowing that they were. He's not focused, I had to do so much work tonight… My hands are hurting, honestly.

"We are…?" he looked up from his empty parchment, eyes bloodshot and nose inflamed.

Hermione maintained her smile, rumour was that Ron was incredibly sick, hence his disappearance, but Hermione knew better. Ron didn't have the flu, no one with the flu would scratch their eyes red with repeated wipes.

She knew all too well. What's happening to you, Ron?

"We are," Hermione kept her voice jolly. "You can call Professor Snape, if you like. The sooner he checks our work, the sooner we can leave."

"Professor Snape…" Ron muttered, scratching his arm and averting his gaze again. "Can… Can you please call him…?" What? Why?

"Why?" Hermione had to ask.

Ron didn't reply, he simply looked miserable and broken beyond repair. It was a gut-wrenching sight for Hermione in particular, as she admired her once-boisterous friend, and seeing him brought so low by his illness broke her heart.

"Just do it, please," Ron gave no explanation, keeping his gaze low.

"Okay, Ron…" her voice faltered, how could it not? "Um… Ahem… Professor Snape! We're done with our Alihotsy Draught!"

Within moments, the 'Winged Professor' was standing over them, peering into their cauldron with a squinted eye. It's perfect, I followed the instructions down to the last letter.

"This is perfect work," Severus said, and Hermione nearly burst into a smile. "Well done, Ron, I expected no less." Oh…

She nearly spoke up, but just in the nick of time; she stopped herself. Ron looked like he could use a win, and from what she had just seen; he was clearly in trouble with Professor Snape. Maybe this will cheer him up? I hope so, that was a really difficult Potion to brew-

"I didn't do much, Hermione took the lead on this one," Ron gave the credit back to her, not raising his eyes. "I just… I'm not feeling well… Can I go, Sir?" Go? Just like that?

"I was hoping to speak with you, as a matter of fact," Snape started, but stopped when Ron visibly tensed, as if he were about to be struck. What's going on here? I'm getting scared…

"Can I please go…?" Ron asked again, his voice barely audible.

"…Yes, Ron… You are excused," Snape said, shooting Hermione a quick glance as Ron all but fled.

The bushy haired witch shook her head; she was as lost as Snape. What could have done this to him? She looked back to see Ron keeping his eyes averted, especially from the right corner of the room. Odd… Just a pair of Slytherin girls… I don't think Ron even knows them. Wait! Is he getting worse?! Did he go through a test without telling us?!

"Sir, I hate to leave you with our mess, but-" Hermione began.

"Go, Miss. Granger," Snape said. "And then, come back and tell me what's going on." Um… How about no?

"Of course, Sir," Hermione lied, not caring an ounce right now.

She followed Ron out, ignoring the worried looks on the faces of Ron's brothers. They probably deserved to know the truth more than Hermione, but honestly, she found herself caring very little for their needs.

"Ron, wait!" she caught up to him near the stairs, why was he leaving the Dungeons? Isn't the Slytherin common room located within the Dungeons? It is, I'm sure of it. Strange…

"Did you follow me?" Ron turned around, spooked. "Hermione, I'm not really up for conversation-"

"Are you upset with me?" Hermione blurted out, surprisingly not out of breath.

"What?"

"I didn't mean to lose control of that fire…" Hermione felt guilt creep up her spine. "Malfoy, he's always been horrible to me, especially me… I wanted to prove myself, Ron, that's all!"

"Hermione, I'm not upset with you," Ron said, shattering her illusion. "I know you didn't mean to lose control like that, neither do I whenever I blast a hole in the castle…" He looked visibly bothered to admit to a loss of control. "It's fine, just forget it, Hermione. I'm not upset."

With that, he turned to leave again.

"Then, what's wrong?" Hermione asked, taking his gloved hand into hers.

He recoiled away from her, as if burned by her touch. What… was that? As she recovered from the shock, a certain kind of misery filled her chest. Why did he do that? Is… Is it me?

"Sorry, I get… get anxious whenever someone touches me without warning," Ron admitted, sounding ashamed. Can that really happen to a person? Just a touch makes them that anxious? "Don't worry about what happened with Draco, even he's forgotten it already. And, I don't think the Professors would let a student get cooked alive… You 'frying' him was never going to happen, trust me." Then, why was Professor McGonagall so harsh on me?

Ron then gave her a long stare, making her feel horribly self-conscious about never brushing her hair.

"Why did you use a Spell that you couldn't control?" Ron finally asked. "That's not like you, Hermione; you're more careful than that."

Hermione became rooted to her spot, her answer would embarrass her, but she also felt the urge to share it, in the hopes of bringing a smile to his face one more time.

"I wanted to be more like you, Ron," Hermione said, giving the best compliment she could.

Ron's reaction was… non-existent; he simply continued to stare at her, as if he couldn't even begin to comprehend her words.

"Why?" he suddenly asked.

"Why?" she blinked, jarred that he wasn't touched.

"Hermione…" Ron's eyes looked centuries too old, which honestly glued her tongue to the roof of her mouth. "Can't you see? Even I don't want to be like me…"

For the very first time in Hermione life; the brilliant young witch was left speechless.

"You're perfect as you are, Hermione Granger, so please, don't ever turn into me, don't even think about it," Ron murmured, leaving with a crestfallen expression.

Hermione could do little but watch him walk away from her, her mind reeling from his confession of self-loathing.

Deep in her gut; she knew that she should've said something, but even as he disappeared out of sight; Hermione found herself snared in her spot, questioning herself and what she wanted to be. Even I don't want to be like me? Oh, Ron…

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Thursday 18th March, 1994 (The Sanctuary – Lunch)

Ron finished moving the last of his luggage, ready to move back to The Burrow until he travelled to the States for the Junior League Tournament. He still had classes tomorrow, including Potions, which he was dreading terribly and was hoping to avoid at all costs.

It wasn't like him to dread things, not anymore, but after everything he'd been put through; he just wanted the world to pull its punches for once. Snape was a vicious bastard in the best of moods, and right now; few hated Ronald Weasley as much as Severus Snape. Both him and the Headmaster keep trying to talk to me in private… And I get the feeling that I'm getting sent to my room, which happens to be sealed by hundreds of Dumbledore's strongest Wards.

As Ron dumped the P-12 on top of his trunk, not caring for its landing; he felt another presence within the room. It's cold, lonely… Angry, so fucking angry with the world…

"You're finally here, are you?" Ron turned around, spotting Ravenclaw Ron standing by the foot of the bed.

His past self said nothing; the older Ron looked… guilty, and lost, as if he had travelled to the land of the living by mistake. Ron had thought that rage would take hold of him when he saw his treacherous self re-emerge from the shadows, but instead; he only felt more weighed down. I trusted this cunt, and he was poisoning me the entire time… He's a genocidal maniac, one who could give the Dark Lord a run for his money, and I fucking trusted him… You know what? I deserved to be poisoned…

"Fuck off, coward…" Ron turned away from Ravenclaw Ron. "Hiding in the shadows, thinking I didn't notice you looking for the perfect chance to show your face… Fucking pathetic."

"You would've sent me back… Back into the pit," Ravenclaw Ron finally spoke, confessing his fears too late. "I can't go back, Ron… I'm never going back down there, never!"

Ron felt his stomach turn, he couldn't even bring himself to be angry with this coward, not after knowing what he did. The Entity… Who wouldn't poison a stranger to flee from its grasp? And he's right, I would've found some way to get rid of him… I wouldn't have cared, because he would be getting in my way.

Ron wanted to laugh at their situation, at how pathetic they both were, despite the centuries between their Cycles; they were still Ronald Bilius Weasley, an abject failure from the start.

"Do whatever you want," Ron used Wandless Magic to levitate his belongings. "Keep poisoning me, fucking kill me outright, if you want… I don't care anymore…"

Ron left with that, not seeing the very human emotion of regret on his former self's face as he vanished from sight. I can't even trust myself. I am alone, now and forever-

Marty suddenly popped up in-between his legs, nearly making him fall over and crush the tiny Elf. Fucking hell! Marty, you son of a bitch! Stop that!

"Master!" Marty squeaked, attaching himself to Ron's left leg. I'm going to fall, cunt!

"Marty, stop that!" Ron barely regained his balance, staring down at the Elf hugging his leg for dear life. "What's happened?! Why are you so scared?! Are the other Elves picking on you because of your skinny arms again? Want me to go have a chat with Flippy-?"

"Oh, Master, this is worse than Marty's noodle-arms," Marty whimpered. "Marty has been discovered!" What?

"Discovered?" Ron kneeled, pulling Marty into position in order to look into his eyes. "Discovered by who?"

Marty reached into his Hogwarts pillow-case-robes, producing a snotty letter and placing it in Ron's hand. Ugh… Marty's bogeys… Why didn't he put the fucking letter in my gloved hand? Whatever…

Ron opened the letter, giving Marty one last look before reading the contents.

Ronald,

Come to France; I've waited long enough for you to come find me.

Yours always,

Johan Abadie

P.S: I'm not one for small talk, if you want to reach Ilvermorny's Sacred Tree, you'll need my help.

Also, your Elf is careless, you should look into getting rid of it.

Ron's fingers tightened around the letter, his eyes glowing red and causing Marty to begin whimpering in fear.

Who was this cunt? And how did he know about Ron's plans for the Tree? And he had referred to Marty as an it?! A fucking dead man, that's what he is! Bad day to piss me off, you cretin!

"Johan Abadie…" Ron growled, feeling his rage shove his other feelings aside as if a switch had been flipped. He threatens Our plans! He threatens Tracey!

"Master…" Marty managed to croak, he had seen Ron's eyes shift before, he was now certain of it, but he was far too clever to question his Master.

"Take my things to my room in The Burrow, Marty," Ron crushed the letter in his hand. "Don't get seen, don't even get heard, are we clear?"

"What about you, Master?" Marty asked weakly.

"I'm going to go beat the snot out of a Frenchman," Ron sneered. It? He's going to regret using 'it' to describe my friends.

"Marty doesn't understand how he was caught… Marty is careful-" Marty began whimpering, no doubt afraid of being let go.

"It's okay, Marty," Ron patted his Elf's shoulder. "He did his research, that's all."

"But how, Master?" Marty asked. "The Tree… How could Lord Abadie know?" Lord Abadie? Really, Marty? This cunt is coming after us, and you're using his proper title? Want me to take some biscuits to him as well?

"I don't know…" Ron turned and cracked his neck. "But I'll find out soon enough, I think. Go, and don't tell anyone of where I've gone. Not even Daphne." And here I thought I was done with France, for now. I wonder if Emilia is ready for another hunt?

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Ah, I can put this chapter behind me, now, and move on from the bad memories of the last few weeks. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it, sorry again for the re-upload, confusion, and any dissapointment I caused, but honestly, this is my work, and I've put A LOT of work into this, so I can re-upload chapters when I feel like I haven't lived up to my standard. (No retcons though, that would hurt the story, so don't even think of asking for any lmao)

Now, I got exams coming up, I'll try to upload before then, but if that doesn't happen, then sorry in advance. Blame the world for me needing a piece of paper to prove my worth, not me XD