As soon as they apparated, Hermione pulled her hand back and started walking alongside a crumbling drystack wall. Ron silently followed and resisted the urge to ask her where exactly they had landed, though he suspected they were further up north considering the surroundings. Her shoulders were slouched and Ron could only imagine what she was mentally preparing for.

Her hand hovered over the wall, dropping down ever so often to touch a stone and it seemed like she was counting them.

Morning carried a radiant sun that failed to provide any warmth and Ron pulled the dark cloak that flopped around him over his freezing arms. The wind followed them persistently and he could almost hear the electricity crackling in her short frizzy hair.

There were lone green pastures with patches of glistening frost in the shades beneath the walls as far as the eye could see and Ron suddenly remembered they were called drystane dykes, but failed to recall who told him that. Probably his Hermione.

The scenery felt almost idyllic if it weren't for the glum reality that held this beautiful land in its grasp.

His teeth were positively chattering when they reached a tall cairn that split the drystone wall they'd been following in half.

"We're here," Hermione mumbled as she faced Ron.

Ron's eyes darted around, and he immediately knew that there were strong protective enchantments shielding the place. Raising a hand close to the cairn, he could sense the subtle vibrations of nearby magic. He could also feel Hermione's eyes on him, but when he turned his head, she quickly averted her gaze and took out her wand.

To his surprise, Hermione made a small incision on her palm and lifted it above the cairn, smearing some blood over it. The carefully stacked stones trembled for a brief moment and absorbed the blood.

"Blood magic?"

"Yes, it enhances -"

"Protective charms and spells. Yeah, I know. But it's also dark magic."

Hermione raised her brows, but Ron couldn't tell if she was surprised or annoyed.

"Dark times call for dark magic," She responded dryly and stretched out her arm, wordlessly asking for his. Ron obliged and clenched his jaw as she drew blood from his palm. She joined their lacerated palms and murmured a spell while performing some intricate wand movements. A thin white string sprung from between their hands and swirled around, binding their forearms together before vanishing, leaving a faint burn mark where it came in contact with Ron's skin.

She wanted to pull her hand back, but Ron kept hers in his while he reached for the almost empty vial of dittany from inside his cloak. He poured the remaining drops on her cut and they both watched the wound heal. Her face was the epitome of bewilderment and Ron chuckled.

"You're welcome," he quipped as he tore the hem of his undershirt, wrapping it around his cut.

She seemed on the verge of retorting, but instead just groaned and turned on her heel.

"Now you can get past all the barriers," She explained as she passed sideways between the dyke and cairn. Ron followed and as soon as he was on the other side of the wall, an impressive stone structure materialized. It had a circular base and rose high, even though large chunks of it were missing. It was positively ancient as the long stone slabs that collapsed from the top had become small irregular mounds at the foot of it, with uneven edges covered in moss peeking out at odd angles. The holes were covered by patchwork tarpaulin strung together with ropes.

"It's a broch," Hermione explained, "A prehistoric muggle-made fort, so off the maps from the likes of y-...uhm, the likes of them," She quickly corrected herself.

"Thank you," Ron said, nudging her shoulder with his, as he clasped his hands in front of his mouth, trying to warm them with his breath.

He watched her fumble with the wand, shoving it in her back pocket, determined not to look at Ron or reply in any way. She flattened her hair the same way his Hermione did when she was nervous, fumbling a while longer with some curls over her right ear.

"Wait here," she said, pointing at the spot he was standing. Ron nodded and continued to examine the building when he noticed somebody duck behind the tarpaulin from the top of the structure. They were being watched and Ron could only hope Hermione would be able to convince the group that he wasn't his evil counterpart.

She was halfway across the field when a small group of people came running out from under the arch that marked the entrance, led by a tall bearded bloke. Ron was certain he knew him from somewhere. It seemed that he was one of only three wizards holding a wand. They took a protective stance between Hermione and the rest of the group.

At least one of his suspicions was right - they were indeed burly blokes and his instincts were on red alert.

Ron tightened the grip on his wand, trying to recognize any other face in the nervous crowd ahead.

"The last thing you said to us before you left?" The bearded man shouted, pointing his wand at Hermione.

"I said… I said that it was ironic how the faith of our world rests within a pin instead of a wand," Hermione shouted back, and the men lowered their wands.

"It isn't done then," the man next to him concluded, the disappointment clear from both his voice and face, and that was when Ron recognized the much scruffier version of Lee Jordan.

"No," Hermione replied, "but that doesn't mean we won't get another chance," she continued and glanced over her shoulder at Ron.

"Fuck me," the bearded man exclaimed as his gaze followed Hermione's, taking a good hard look at Ron in the background, "is that… that looks like fuckin' Mordred!'

Like a total idiot, Ron turned around at the unfamiliar name thrown his way, half expecting to see another wizard, when it dawned on him.

Evil Ron had fancied himself another name.

Mordred.

What the actual fuck.

"Lower your wands right now!" Hermione commanded.

Too busy wrapping his head around the new information, Ron failed to notice the rising tension between the group and Hermione.

There was panic in their postures and all backed away except for the leader.

"I don't like repeating myself," Hermione said in an agitated voice, glaring at the defiant wizard.

"Oh, hell," Ron mumbled to himself, "he isn't the leader - she is."

Obviously annoyed by the way she treated him in front of the others, the man scoffed and lowered his wand with a small mocking bow. Hermione crossed the distance between them, and they all moved like synchronized worker bees letting their queen through and then followed her inside.

"So many questions…" Ron muttered and scratched the back of his head.

The warming charm he cast on his cloak did little to nothing, and Ron could only hope he would be called in before his legs froze off. He was pacing in circles, trying to increase his body temperature and calm his nerves, but had little luck.

Suddenly, the tarpaulin at the entrance flapped open and Hermione's head poked out, summoning him. He ran to her, and quickly stepped inside, closing his eyes for a brief moment as he welcomed the much-needed warmth. It overwhelmed his senses so much that his whole body shuddered.

"You alright?" She whispered so only he could hear, grabbing his arm and pulling him forward.

"Yeah, m'fine."

She barely allowed him to adjust, yanking his sleeve impatiently, but Ron refused to match her hurried pace. His eyes widened and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth when he saw the cold blue lights illuminating the entire building from inside.

Hermione's signature bluebell flames.

Ron basked in the familiarity as they were literally everywhere. They were contained in jars and bottles on top of a makeshift wooden table that could easily fit a dozen, inside the doorless cupboard meticulously filled with food tins, among ragged straw-filled pillows scattered in a circle on the floor, and hanging from sticks stuck between stone slabs on the wall, lighting the way up a rope ladder to numerous hammocks that creaked above him.

He could feel their presence looming over him, but strangely there was no murmuring among the dimly-lit cocoons overhead. Instead, they peered down at him with morbid curiosity, as if Death itself was passing and any form of noise or whisper would provoke it.

His smile faltered with the realization that it was him they feared and Ron stopped fighting the pull on his arm. Hermione dragged him towards a secluded area on the other side of the entrance blocked from view with large blankets.

As they approached, the blankets were drawn back, revealing the three wizards, standing next to a clothed rectangular table with menacing looks etched on their faces. There were only two mismatched chairs placed opposite one another and a steaming pot of tea in the center.

"Sit," She motioned at the chair before him and walked around the table to take the other seat.

Ron obliged and slowly rested his arms on the table, eyeing the men to his left. Something felt off, but he couldn't put his finger on it quite yet. The warmth inside the structure, the bluebell flames, the offered tea - it was starting to lull him into a false sense of security. Even though he wanted to trust her with every fiber of his being, the time she spent inside with these three could have been spent plotting against him. Ron didn't want to believe it, but it was still a possibility.

His frowning face elicited a nervous chuckle from Hermione as she reached for the pot. However, Lee interfered and poured them both a cup, leaving it at the edge of the table.

"Thanks, Lee," Ron said flatly, slowly folding his arms across his chest as he leaned back into the chair, his eyes fixed on Hermione. Lee recoiled at the mention of his name, just as Ron had hoped he would.

"Right," Hermione began, sensing his unease, "I think you three can go now," She said, cocking her head slightly towards the exit. Lee and the other unknown bloke left immediately, while the bearded wizard refused to move.

"It might be better if I stayed," He said with a fake smile.

"I'll call you if I need you, Oliver."

"Bloody hell - Oliver Wood?!" Ron was unable to contain himself, as he turned abruptly in his chair, studying the man. It was indeed the old Gryffindor Quidditch captain, hidden under all that shaggy facial hair. "I thought you looked familiar."

Oliver glared at him and said nothing, then turned his head back to Hermione: "I'll be just outside," he muttered, and left.

"Do I even want to know what other-me did to him?" Ron asked in a pained voice, running a hand over his face.

"Probably not," Hermione took a sip of her tea, "Everybody here lost someone to him," she whispered, eyeing the exit.

The notion made him feel tight in the chest. In his world, such things were true for Voldemort and his most loyal followers. It was impossible for him to even imagine a universe where he killed anyone, let alone good people, but here he was - sitting across another version of the love of his life who was telling him just that. His head was spinning again.

"This place is doing my head in. This is just… I can't even…" He buried his face in his hands - it was becoming too much again, panic threatening to suffocate him like it almost did his first night in this ratched place. But the horror was silenced a moment later by her touch, her hands slowly pulling down his own.

She came to sit on the table to his right, and for the first time since Ron met her, she showed something that resembled compassion.

"Here," she placed the mug in his hands, "We need to talk," she said and slid off the table, pushing her hair back.

Ron nodded and took in a deep breath. "Hermione, where are we? Who are these people? How did you even convince them to let me in and not kill me?" he blurted out, "And what's with the name? Oliver called me Mordred?! Wha- like how - ?" The bottled-up frustrations spilled into a torrent of questions and a toppled cup of tea until Hermione raised her hands to stop him.

"We're still in Scotland, close to Inverness. They are… We are a fragment of what's left of the resistance. You asked if we're the Order… We're not. The Order was decimated during the war." She grimaced and curled her hands around the cup before taking a drink.

"What?" Ron shuddered, "You mean… my family…"

"The Weasley family survived," She added quickly, "Mordred made sure of that… And yes, he was awarded a new name for his betrayal."

"Betrayal?"

"Listen," she whispered, glancing at the drawn blankets, "I was gone for over a month, and the only reason why you and I aren't tied up right now is because Oliver knows about the journal and I convinced him I'd get more information out of you on my own."

"I thought you were the leader… Wait, what journal?"

"I am… I… was. A month is a long time," she frowned, "Things didn't go as planned and allegiance is a fickle thing these days."

"Hermione… I don't…"

"Wait here, this is important," she said in a low voice and disappeared behind the curtain in the back. When she reappeared, she was clutching a leatherbound journal to her chest.

"The ones who know about this say it's fiction," She carefully set it on the table, "That it's rubbish - ramblings from an unhinged mind obsessed with the esoteric."

Ron raised a brow at her, hoping like hell she wasn't the author of the thing on the table because she was making less sense by the second.

"I lost a good friend to get this hand-written copy," She unfolded the straps and went through the loose pages until she seemingly found the one she needed and rounded on Ron, setting it before him.

With a befuddled look, Ron reached for it as Hermione returned to her seat, folding her hands on the table in anticipation. He skimmed through the page and soon skepticism was replaced by complete disbelief.

"Who wrote this?"

"Is it true?" Hermione pressed, standing up, her hands flat on the table.

"Well, yeah… It's a vague recount of my wizard's chess game in first year…" Ron drawled, confused as ever.

"You sacrificed yourself in the game, so Harry and, well, Hermione, could move on to the next obstacle!"

Ron scratched the back of his neck, "It wasn't as heroic as you are making it sound."

"Ron, you don't understand! It never happened here! The first time Harry ever confronted Voldemort was in our fourth year when he came back!" She spoke in an animated voice, then stifled a yawn.

"Wait…" Ron lowered the page, "When I asked you if it was that hard for you to believe that I could be friends with you and Harry you said it wasn't… This is what you meant? You read about us in this journal?"

"Yes and no, it… it's… It's fragments of encounters between Harry and Voldemort, and his eventual defeat in which you, you, and I played an important part."

Suddenly she swayed to one side and grabbed the table's edge to regain her footing.

"Are you alright?" Ron stood up, knocking over the chair when her head bobbed up and down as if she was struggling to stay awake.

"The fucking tea," Ron exclaimed, jumping to her aid as she collapsed to the floor.

"The journal," she said in a quavering voice, grabbing his arm as he slowly laid her down on the ground.

"Hermione, stay with me!" Ron cupped her cheeks as her eyes rolled back and she lost consciousness, her face turning pale.

Realizing that time wasn't on his side, Ron quickly tried the rennervate spell, but it didn't work. He dropped his wand next to her, then reached inside his cloak for the only vial he had the good luck of never opening before.

Before he could pull the stopper out with his teeth, the blankets flapped open revealing a distraught Oliver Wood.

"You brought them here!" He seethed, raising his wand at him.

Ron's Auror reflexes kicked in and he knocked over the table with a loud thud and crack of the treacherous ceramic pot, creating a barrier between them and a curse that hit it a second later.

"Well, you poisoned your fucking leader!" Ron yelled, trying to buy time as he uncorked the vial containing antidote of common and uncommon poisons, pouring it into Hermione's mouth.

"Stop cowering and face me!"

Ron could hear him take a cautious step forward when the whole structure suddenly erupted in screams, frantic footsteps and wood scraping over stone.

"I don't cower, you fuck!" Ron stood up and shot several stunning spells his way, which Oliver barely deflected, his back hitting the wall.

"Oliver!" A young girl with short blond hair stumbled through the blankets and grabbed Oliver's sleeve as if her life depended on it, "There are at least a dozen of them! We need to get out! Dean and Liam have already tried to take Lee and Blake's wands!" Her eyes were pure panic as she clung to Oliver.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Ron kneeled back next to Hermione, "Please…," he pleaded, gently shaking her shoulders, peering over the table in case Oliver decided to advance again. However, to his surprise, Oliver and the girl disappeared without another word.

It seemed like an eternity before she suddenly took in a sharp breath and her eyes popped open like she had just been awakened from the dead. She grabbed Ron's forearms, panting uncontrollably and Ron instinctively wrapped his arms around her, attempting to steady her breathing.

"You're safe," Ron whispered against the short curls around her ear, feeling the erratic thumping inside her chest slowing down against his own and she gripped his shoulders tightly.

The broch came alive with a loud grumble and the stone structure shook from its core as if it was being pulled from the roots. Ron and Hermione's heads shot up.

"They found us," she muttered and they scrambled to their feet, "We have to get out!"

Ron jumped over the table, heavy boots stomping ceramic fragments as he picked up the journal, while Hermione stumbled, pulling down the curtains and revealing a modest bed. She reached under it and pulled out a large backpack.

An unnatural gush of wind tore down all the blankets and Ron saw people circling Oliver, Lee, and Blake where the hay pillows were scattered. Frightened screams merged with shattering glass and Ron looked at Hermione.

"We need to help them," He shouted, but she shook her head defiantly.

"Where is your wand?"

"They took it!"

"Here!" Ron threw the other twins' wand at her and signaled her to toss him the backpack.

The ground shook mercilessly and they both staggered, Ron's injured shoulder hitting the wall as he caught it.

"Fuck!" He turned around and saw Lee disapparate with several people, but as soon as the other wizard, Blake, tried to do the same, it became clear that the attackers hexed the area. Panic struck as the frenzied crowd dispersed, trying to find a way to escape. With only three wands between them, they stood little chance against the Death Eaters outside.

With a whip-like motion of her wand, Hermione annihilated the back wall, stone slabs shooting out with a deafening blast.

"Ron!"

Cold daylight crawled in through the hole as the dust settled and Ron noticed several people looking his way.

"Over here!" He yelled and waved at them to follow. Several broke from the group and ran towards him. One of them was a very roughed-up Dean Thomas. He ran past Ron along with two other unknown women and stopped in front of the table.

"I'd rather take my chances with you lot," Dean panted, wiping blood from his nose. He glanced over his shoulder at Ron. The two women held hands and nodded in agreement.

Rob pushed past them and came to stand next to Hermione who grabbed his shoulder for support.

"Maybe Dean should have the wand," he suggested in a concerned voice, looking out at the green hills and drystone wall behind the broch.

There were dark figures everywhere.

"The hell!" She snapped, gripping her wand tighter, "We need to go, right now! The barrier is still up, but barely. It won't be long before they tear it down. There is a portkey buried up that hill."

"Right. You lead the way, I'll guard your backs," Ron motioned at Dean and the women to follow Hermione who had already climbed over the rubble and raised her wand. The others huddled together and followed close behind.

The cracks in the barrier glistened in the midday sun above the dyke where the Death Eaters were. They were still unable to see past the enchantments as they stood there with raised wands, concentrating on destroying the strong protective spells.

"They're everywhere," one of the women muttered, "we won't make it."

"We need a diversion," Hermione said through gritted teeth and looked at Ron.

Before he could ask what she meant Hermione raised her wand and began drawing large circles above her head, her eyes shut tight in concentration. The clear winter sky turned dark, black clouds crawled into view, and thunder roared from within like a beast waiting to bite through its leash. Her face twitched from exertion and Ron knew there would be only a small window of opportunity to get out.

The Death Eaters backed away, startled by the sudden turn of events, and Ron conjured an Auror shield over his left arm - it protected the conjurer's body as effective as a protection charm but with the advantage of being able to cast spells while holding it up.

"Stand behind me!" He yelled over the deafening thunder.

Hermione directed the cloud towards the Death Eaters and lightning began striking the ground between them. Ron recognized the Boyd twins hollering at the others, ordering them to stand their ground and break the enchantments.

At first glance, it looked like lightning struck at random, but Ron soon noticed a pattern as Hermione was trying to steer them to the right, so they'd be able to pass left along the wall and up the hill. It was working despite the Death Eaters' attempts to fight the attack from above.

Hermione's whole body was shaking and Ron knew she wouldn't be able to hold on much longer.

"Dean! Get Hermione!" He yelled, clenching his left fist when his gaze dropped on the bloodied cloth around his palm.

"Blood enhances protective spells," He muttered, his wand already on his forearm, leaving a thin trail of red as he moved it over freckled skin. Tiny specks of blood floated into the silver shield which turned bright white a moment later and Ron could feel it become more powerful.

Dean threw Hermione's arm over his shoulder and she fell against his body, completely worn out. Her spell began to dissolve, while the Death Eaters scrambled back to their feet, several laying dead among them. There was a clear escape route, and Dean touched his shoulder, signaling that they were ready and Ron advanced.

"Now!"

He blasted a way through the wall and prepared to attack as he walked backward up the hill, protecting Hermione as Dean dragged her ahead of the others.

Suddenly, a familiar sound ripped through the air and made Ron look up. He'd recognize it in his sleep.

More than a dozen brooms raced overhead, Oliver leading the way, locking eyes with Ron for a brief second before dropping something amidst the Death Eaters.

Ron's eyes widened.

"Get close behind me!"

Someone reached him and clung to the backpack as Ron raised his shield arm higher.

The sheer force of the explosion threw Ron on his back with the shield absorbing most of the blast. He had no idea who managed to take cover. His ears were buzzing and he shook his head to regain clarity when a harrowing cry made him turn to his side. He knew he was about to face death.

Several meters ahead a pair of lifeless brown eyes stared back at him. The other woman was crying at her side, holding her dead companion's palm against her own cheek. He didn't even know her name. Dean crawled to the two women, mumbling words of comfort and urging her to stand up.

Hermione was on her knees closest to him, clenching her wand and a Gryffindor scarf, eyes narrowed at something past Ron. He followed her gaze, then quickly scrambled to his feet and raised his wand.

"Everybody up! Now!" He shouted as a green curse hit his shield. Before he could cast a counter curse, the same green flash shot past him and hit one of the Death Eaters in the head, killing him instantly.

Hermione brushed against his shoulder, her wand aimed at the approaching Death Eaters, while she screamed at Dean to get Mel up.

"Ron, two minutes" She tied the scarf around the left backpack strap as Ron shot several hexes at their opponents, starting to feel the strain in the shield as the attack intensified.

"Hey Boyd!" Hermione growled, dangling his wand between her fingers, and one of the twins raised his fist to cease fire, his eyes murderous.

"That's mine…" He seethed.

There was a silent sob behind Ron and he could feel Dean and Mel tug one end of the scarf.

"Well, you can have it back," Hermione grinned, raising the wand above her head. Locking eyes with Boyd she snapped it in two and tossed the wand on the grass like it was filth, "Quid pro quo, you cunt."

She turned to Ron, grabbed his hand, and interlaced their fingers, then wrapped the gold and scarlet around their joined hands, her eyes fixed on his.

"Hold on to me."