T/W: Child endangerment and death, disassociation, self-harm, emotional and psychological abuse. It's a heavy chapter, but you saw this coming.

Chapter Twenty-Five: The Unforgivable Curses

Ron was dead, or at least, he very much hoped he was.

He stood in the hall of a darkened house. The elegant hallway twisted gently with each breath he took, like a rib expanding to let in air. He would have screamed, but he didn't even know if he had the wherewithal to exist anymore. So, he let the hallway drag him slowly forward, into a small library. A young boy with messy hair sat in the window sill, pouring over pages of runes that made Ron's head spin.

But Harry didn't seem to mind, he calmly read and copied the form of the runes onto a piece of parchment he'd carelessly wedged into the page he was working on. This must've been one of his memories. Ron tried to get Harry's attention, but he was less meaningful than a ghost here. Harry did not make any notice of him, continuing to work quietly on the runes.

And then, faintly, Ron could hear the hiss of a snake coming from deeper in the house. Harry tensed, listening to the sound as well. He shut the book, setting it down for later along with his homework. Ron felt himself compelled to follow, down the hall and stairs in a house far bigger than any he'd been to in his entire life. There were paintings on the walls, but he barely had time to concentrate on any of them, save one on the stairwell of three vultures descending on a man to pluck out his eyes.

On the ground floor, they passed a magnificent parlor overlooking a meticulously managed English manor lawn. Ron looked in dread to the room he knew a little girl would lose her life in a year later. Harry paused in front of a solid oak door, hesitating for only a fraction of a second to work up the nerve to knock. He waited patiently, as if praying the person on the other side of the door would not answer.

"Enter," Ron heard a voice hiss and speak simultaneously. He was in Harry's memory, so he could understand when someone spoke in parseltongue.

The door creaked open, into an office set up nearly identical to the one Riddle held in the ministry. At the desk, sat a dark-haired man in his fifties, pouring over piles of parchment that Ron couldn't make heads or tails of. It occurred to Ron that Riddle did not look a day older in the present, he'd stopped aging entirely. Tom Riddle paid them no mind, and Harry stepped cautiously into the office.

"You wished to see me?" Harry stopped, mere feet away from the desk, staring at the floor. Riddle finally looked up from his work, he smiled coldly.

"My afternoon opened up, I wanted to check in on your school work." He said, pulling out several sheets of parchment from his desk. "What have you been learning about today?"

"I've been doing my ancient runes work, and I was going to practice some new defensive spells later." Harry said, wary but optimistic that a parent was showing interest in what he was doing. "Professor Snape says that there's a spell that makes the victim—"

"If you're in a fight, would it not be more prudent to simply kill them?" Riddle interrupted, sliding an essay forward on the desk. "I've just read over your analysis of the unforgivable curses, do you remember what you said?" Harry looked down at the parchment, somewhat confused about why he was asking.

"No, sir."

"You said," Riddle tapped on the parchment. "That when it comes to the unforgivable curses, the cost often outweighs the means. Meaning, even if it was your own life at risk, or someone in your family … you would still hesitate to defend yourself over concern for the humanity of your attacker …"

"I can redo it—" Harry understood why he'd been called downstairs.

Ron wanted to tear Riddle limb from limb, but he had no arms to hit or mouth to shout. He hated him; it was beyond pathetic that Riddle needed all three of the children he raised to be so afraid of him. Ron had no interest in knowing what he'd done to make them all feel that way.

"No, no that's quite alright." The parchment sizzled, burning to ash at Riddle's touch. He rose from his seat, looking down curiously. "Like I said, my afternoon opened up. Come, we'll go visit your sister at work."

Ron felt his consciousness dragged with the two of them to the fireplace, it suddenly occurred to Ron how odd this memory was compared to Regulus's memories of the wand presentation. There, everything played smoothly, like Ron was watching an event happen in real-time. But here … well he didn't know how to describe it other than the memory felt hazy, like staring too far in the distance on a hot summer day.

It became even more apparent as Ron followed them through the floo network, back into Riddle's office at the ministry, and out the door. The witches and wizards around moved and spoke, but it was jerky, their mouths seemed to move much too fast or too slow to match what they were saying. In the hallway, Ron saw Professor Snape in a hurried discussion with Regulus Black. The two turned to face them, and Ron saw Professor Snape's mouth move.

Ron suddenly found himself much further down the hallway, following behind Riddle and Harry as Regulus helped Snape back up to his feet. He was shaking uncontrollably, like Ron had under the cruciatus curse. Ron noticed Harry was actively avoiding looking back at the two Death Eaters.

"—merely that my other first-year pupils are not working on advanced curse formations."

"Teach the coursework I have requested, Severus, or I shall find someone who will."

The words echoed around Ron, he felt disoriented, like waking up from a dream where he fell from a high place. Had Riddle spoken to Snape? Why couldn't he remember what else they said? Ron knew it was possible to tamper with memories, but he didn't know that the Oblivious charm worked in this way. Maybe Harry didn't want him to see certain parts of the memory, or he forgot some of the details. Either way, the memory seemed lurid compared to Regulus's. Ron wondered if he would bleed out soon, assuming he wasn't already dead.

Ron found himself back at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the aurors around bowed their heads in respect as Riddle weaved his way through the crowded office space. Harry had to walk faster to keep up with him, Ron saw him glance up at a small wanted notice for James Potter along with several other members of the Order of the Phoenix. There was no picture yet, and Ron wondered absurdly if Harry even knew what James looked like before they met in person.

Across the office, Ron saw Tonks marching out with a group of what appeared to be aurors in training. At the back of the troop, Nagini paused for a moment as she saw her family enter the department. She broke off from the others and fell in step beside her father.

"Do you think it wise to—" She began in parseltongue. Ron realized it must have been easier for her to speak the snake language.

"Your opinion is of no concern to me." Riddle said in English, Ron believed that was true in multiple regards. She nodded stiffly, sparing one look to her younger brother before rejoining the other trainees.

Rodolphus Lestrange strode up to meet them, Ron saw a flicker of confusion cross his face at the sudden appearance of the Dark Lord himself. But Lestrange quickly regained his composure and stooped over in a deep bow.

"A thousand apologies, my lord," he began. "I did not know you were planning to inspect the department today, I would have arranged—"

"No need," Riddle waived him off. Rodolphus rose back to his full height. "Consider this a personal errand. What do you have in the holding tank today?" A sadistic smile spread across Rodolphus Lestrange's face.

"Ah, some on the job training." Lestrange's gaze flickered down momentarily to Harry, but if he had any issue with an eleven-year-old child being there, he didn't show it. "You're in luck, we've got lots of options." Rodolphus snapped his fingers and a list appeared.

"Let's see," he began walking further into the department, past the room with the height chart and blood status machine. "Bella's in with Dodge right now so might as well just update his vital status, we've got three runaway mudbloods waiting for transport, an Irishman with a falsified blood status … Oh! This is a good one, we just picked up Fabian Prewett's sister and her family. Apparently two of her sons tried to sell some illegal joke products in Knockturn, really dumpy sort. But that's what happens when you mismanage a bloodline ... Prewetts marrying Weasleys, I swear …"

Ron would have screamed if he'd had a mouth. His mother always spoke highly of her brothers. They'd died trying to bring down the Death Eaters.

"The blood traitors?" Riddle looked over in interest. "They haven't fled?"

"They were trying, we've being tagging Arthur Weasley for years now. But that useless ass couldn't find his way out of a cauldron with the lid off. Here, take a look." Rodolphus gestured to a large window overlooking a holding room.

There were about fifteen people in the room, each with a frightened look on their face. In the far corner of the room Ron saw a stout woman with red hair clutching tightly to two small children. His mother cried, pulling Ron and Ginny closer to her. Ron was thankful that he couldn't see his own face. On the bench beside them, Fred and George sat with Percy. The three older children stared at the sterile floor in front of them, as if wondering why the room they were trapped in was so clean … Ron looked frantically for his father, but he didn't seem to be with the family.

"Oh," Rodolphus turned to Riddle conversationally. "Delphi asked after you again this morning, forgive me, but would it not be prudent for her to spend more time with her siblings and father? It's been a while."

Riddle looked at Rodolphus as if the second man spat in his drink. Rodolphus immediately averted his gaze to the floor.

"Delphi," Riddle said silkily. "Yes, I suppose that depends, has she shown even a modicum of magical talent yet?"

"No, not yet. Forgive me, my lord, I spoke out of turn—" Rodolphus sank again into a bow, but it was too late.

A red curse hit Mr. Lestrange straight in the chest. He fell backwards onto the floor, writhing and screaming in pain. Riddle stood above him, a look of boredom etched on his face. Harry instinctively stepped back behind Riddle, blankly watching the curse. Then it stopped, Rodolphus Lestrange breathed heavily but did not move.

"Get up," Riddle said in disgust, and Rodolphus got back to his feet.

Rodolphus muttered his thanks and excused himself to go find Bellatrix. Riddle paused in front of the holding room, his hands folded behind his back in contemplation. Ron couldn't read the expression on Harry's face, as he looked at the people in the holding cell. He seemed torn between curiosity and apprehension.

"Tell me, Harry," Riddle asked, his eyes moving lazily between the people in the holding cell. "What three properties of the human body do the unforgivable curses affect?"

"Mind for imperious, body for cruciatus and …" he looked up in confusion, "body again for the killing curse?"

"Very close," Riddle said, as if they were discussing a recent Quidditch game. He held up three fingers. "The mind to bend, the body to break, and the soul to ascend. There are many ways to achieve all three goals, but none quite so clean or elegant as the unforgivable curses. They are indispensable tools to us." He nodded towards the people in the holding tank.

"Pick one."

Ron was ripped back into his own body, it was as if he lay on a block of ice. The room was numbingly cold … A tall shape bent over him.

"Come on, Ron," the familiar voice of a man said. "I promised I would get you home."

"Hand me the damned vial, Potter!" Another voice sounded. Why were they so angry? Ron wanted nothing more than to drift back off to sleep …

"No, NO!" A hand tapped his face. "Please stay awake Ron, we—"

Ron did not hear the second part of what he had to say, he was far away again back in one of the Ministry of Magic's interrogation rooms. Sat at the table was a gangly boy with red hair. Ron stared curiously back at this version of himself, they certainly looked like the same person. But Ron didn't feel like he was that person any more, he hardly felt like a person at all. The boy twisted a handcuff, his right wrist secured tightly to a lock on the table. He looked around nervously to the rest of the room.

The door opened, and a second person stepped in. Ron saw a woman with dark hair shove a second boy into the room. Harry looked back desperately to her.

"But—"

"I'll be back in just a minute." Bellatrix instructed, before the door shut firmly behind her.

Ron instantly relaxed once she left, he smiled weakly back at Harry. Ron realized that this version of himself probably thought that they were equals in their predicament.

"Glad she's gone," his younger self said with a shaky voice. "That woman, she … took my dad earlier too … I haven't seen him since …" Harry stared at him.

"I'm Ron by the way." Ron saw his younger self sheepishly wave. "Ron Weasley. What's your name?"

"Harry." He took a step back from Ron, reluctant to give his last name. Harry kept glancing nervously to the mirror in the interrogation room. He took out his wand.

"Woah, you've got a—" Ron glanced around, as if checking for spy devices. He mouthed the words, a wand! "Where did you get one? Did you nick it?" Ron asked in a hushed voice. "They took my mum's and brothers' when we arrived."

"It's mine." Harry did not elaborate further, Ron frowned but didn't ask how he'd kept it.

"Why d'you keep looking over there?" Ron finally sounded concerned, also looking back towards the mirror.

"It's a two-way mirror," Harry explained, taking another step back. "It lets aurors see into the room during interrogations, prisoners don't know if they're being watched or not."

"Are we being watched?" Ron asked.

"Yes."

"You're one of them." Ron looked up, clearly hurt. He could only retract himself so far from his seat at the table, yanking on the cuff around his wrist.

He jumped back as the door opened a second time, Bellatrix was back. This time, Ron actually got a good look at her. It was lucky that her uniform was already black, or else Ron thought he'd see more than just a few flecks of someone else's blood on her face. Bellatrix stalked into the room, her heavily hooded eyes narrowed in observation.

"Harry," she said, as if scolding him for tracking mud inside. "You were supposed to start without me, you've already seen the curses."

"I know," he answered quietly, never once looking away from Ron. Ron had no clue if this was the first room they were in, or if he was just another stop in a long procession of the dead.

"What do you say?" Her voice was calm, but Ron did not see her blink once.

"I'm sorry, Bella." Harry recited mechanically, pointing his wand directly at Ron's head. Ron looked back in horror at the two people in front of him. He was simultaneously watching the scene unfold in his incorporeal form, and from the perspective of his eleven-year-old self.

"All is forgiven," Bellatrix's mouth twisted into a smile. "Now … show me what you've learned …"

"Imperio."

Ron watched as a yellow mist surrounded him, his body sank forward, taking deep calming breaths. He looked at the two people, but he could not see them, could not remember where he was. He then slammed his own head forcefully down on the table, breaking his own nose. This seemed to break the dream-like state and Ron shouted in pain. Bellatrix nodded in approval.

"Good," she said, swooping in to guide Harry closer. "Very good, but did you see how he broke it after feeling pain? That can happen sometimes, but soon you'll be able to make them kill themselves without breaking the curse. Now, you know which of the three is my favorite …" He nodded, shaking uncontrollably now as he pointed the wand at Ron once again.

"Crucio."

A red curse hit him. Ron fell back, he screamed so loudly he thought his throat would tear. But it stopped almost as soon as it started. He curled up in his seat, sobbing profusely now. Bellatrix was no longer smiling, instead she looked back in concern at the two-way mirror on the far side of the wall.

"That one takes practice, doesn't it? All three need a powerful feeling behind them. I've found hatred of my enemy works best." She said quickly, trying to regain her composure. "That's alright, no one gets them all right away."

"I don't want to do this." Harry said quietly, and Ron noticed he was crying too. He was also facing the mirror, no longer talking to Bellatrix. "Please, Father I can't—"

"Sh, you must finish it." Bellatrix pointed to Ron. "Show me the third spell."

"No, I can't—please, please don't make me—"

"I—Tom—" Bellatrix called, and the door immediately opened. "It's too much, why don't we start with animals like I did for Nagini—"

"We are starting with animals," Tom Riddle said quietly. "Your words, not mine, when it comes to blood traitors." A look of amusement crossed Riddle's face, as if he made a joke; Ron wondered if he considered Bellatrix a blood traitor as well. After all, Riddle himself was not a pureblood. Bellatrix opened her mouth to argue before deciding against it. Riddle knelt down so that he was at eye level with Harry.

"Harry, do you remember when I let you come hunting? There was a unicorn that triggered one of the snares and broke its leg, what happened to it?"

"You c-cut its throat." Harry said, still staring directly at Ron.

"Precisely, it had already suffered enough. Killing it quickly was the one mercy it received, now …" Riddle straightened back to his full height. "Are you going to let it suffer? Or are you going to provide the blood traitor with the only mercy it deserves?"

"P-please, don't!" Ron begged.

Harry pointed the wand directly at Ron's head, but before he could do anything there was a flash of green light. Bellatrix had also pointed her wand at Ron, she was breathing heavily, her eyes wide in terror as she looked back at Riddle.

Ron watched as his own body collapsed forward onto the interrogation table, wide blue eyes looking up in shock at his attackers. Ron could hear crying, but he couldn't tell if it was the woman, the man, the boy, or the corpse making the sound. He could only focus on the details on his own face; how a faint trickle of blood leaked from his nose, how eerie it was to see his own body unmoving. The corpse blinked, looking back up at Ron with a wide grin.

"But that's not really how it happened, is it?"

Ron felt like he was submerged underwater, the living people in the room moved and jerked backwards, resetting like clockwork to the moments before Ron's death.

"P-please, don't!" Ron pleaded for his life a second time. But it was not Bellatrix Lestrange aiming her wand at him, it was just Harry. He was shaking, looking back pleadingly to the two adults in the room. Riddle gave a chilly sigh.

"Relax, don't lock your elbow in place," he instructed. "In a real duel you need to think about your next move, now," He pushed the child forward. "You know the spell, Harry."

"No, no, NO!" Ron was screaming, hitting himself as if he hoped to wake up from a nightmare. He was looking from both sides of the table, at the wand ready to end his life, and at his first victim …

"Avada Kedavra"

Ron fell face forward onto the interrogation table, his nose bleeding profusely, then to his own surprise he lifted his head. The spell didn't work. Harry looked back in panic to the two adults, but it seemed Riddle had expected this.

"A powerful feeling is key, mere obedience will not be enough to make the curse stick. The point is to eliminate his suffering. You need only point your wand and remember," Riddle's smile was menacing, "he's only human."

Harry pointed his wand at Ron for a second time, now deaf to his cries for mercy.

"Avada Kedavra"

Ron fell face forward onto the table and moved no more, a small pool of blood building around his head on the polished surface. Blue eyes looked, but did not see the two-way mirror on the wall, frozen in a mixture of shock and horror. And yet, he was still overhead of his own body, formless and meaningless. Riddle nodded in approval, and Ron could feel the edges of the memory begin to darken and twist.

"Better," Ron heard Riddle's muffled voice say. "Now Bella, bring in the next one."

A/N: This is the section I've been dreading to write, although I'm really happy with how this chapter turned out in the end. Harry has repeatedly been the most difficult character to write in this fic because every single interaction he has with our Ron is tainted by this memory. Let me know your thoughts, and thanks as always for reading.