Disclaimer: They're all necro-nerds and Sand freaks.
Endless
Ron tried to keep the look of shocked wonder off his face as he entered the muggle dance club. There were undulating girls in outfits that revealed more skin than he'd seen on any member of the opposite sex save family, there was music, there were lights. It was a place of mystery, of wonder, of profound newness. For a moment, his eyes hesitated on a solitary figure; a boy about his age with scruffy black hair perched over a pair of thick black glasses, a man that seemed to be the one island of calm in the raging maelstrom of the dance floor. An oddity marked not just by the other figure's lack of motion but by his unfashionable clothing and worn appearance.
Their eyes met and Ron felt flushed with shame. Who was he to say anyone didn't belong, especially based on something so trivial as appearance. While it was true that the Weasley family were rightfully considered to be one of the wealthiest families in the magical Europe, it was also true that they came from rather humble origins and that their immense fortune dated to just a decade or so before his birth.
Regaining his wits, the boy strolled onto the floor and took it all in, seeking better targets for his attention. He was almost seventeen, about to enter his seventh year of magical schooling, and had a short stack of twenty pound notes wrapped around a fake i.d. The world was his for the taking.
He was half way through his third drink and hopeful in his attempts to charm a rather curvy blonde into his bed for the night when the music cut and a dozen masked figures marched into the room. Death Eaters. Ron knew what they were at a glance, having grown up in a family of war heroes. A quick look around the room showed that he had a clear path to the nearest exit. The smart thing to do, he told himself, would be to run for the exit. With luck, he'd be able to summon help that would teach the Death Eaters the difference between a group of innocent muggles and a platoon of battle hardened Aurors. Still, he drew his wand slowly so as to avoid drawing attention to himself, it would mean leaving a group of muggles to the mercy of a group of terrorists. Even if he did run, it was just as likely that any help would arrive just in time to curse the fact that they'd arrived only a few minutes too late to save anyone. Bugger the smart thing, he'd gotten his mother's looks but he was his fathers son and Weasleys don't run.
The boy took a deep breath to steady himself, rose to his feet, and nearly dropped his wand in shock at what he seeing.
IIIIIIIIII
It had been a long time since he'd been home, he thought to himself as he ended the leader of imitation death eaters. Perhaps he should look up his old friends to see how they'd ended up? With the ease of long practice, he enlarged one of his opponent's brain to the point that burst the skull and transfigured another's blood to corn syrup.
He got another six more before the survivors regained enough of their wits to try to fight back.
No, he decided as he dodged a curse and responded with several of his own. Best let the past stay in the past, what would he say? The him they'd known was gone along with the they he'd known, killed by decades of separation. He was as far removed from his past self as they were from theirs, a reunion would only serve to reopen old wounds.
Growing bored of the fight, he decided to end it quickly, summoning thumb sized pieces of potassium into the nasal cavities of each of his opponents. Best be away before the Aurors arrived anyway if he was to stick to his decision to avoid the old crowd.
IIIIIIIIII
Director Bones was not having a good night. She'd been rousted out of her bed, bad, to deal with a terrorist attack, worse, which was potentially an assassination attempt on the Minister's youngest grandson, totally fucked. Separately; each of those things was enough to break her legendary calm. Together, they had her frothing at the mouth.
"Explain it again," she barked. "Why did you decided to go to that particular club?"
"It was the only one I knew about, Madame Bones," Ron stammered. "Some of the guys were talking about it. Said it was a good place to pick up girls and that they didn't do more than glance at your identification."
"What guys? Who?" She demanded.
"I don't know," Ron replied. "It was at the three broomsticks in our last Hogsmead Weekend, I wasn't even in their group, it was just something I overheard."
"Who got you the fake I.D.?"
"Uh . . ."
The Director sighed. "I'm going to make a guess. You don't have to confirm it, just don't deny it if it's true. Alright?"
"Alright, Madame Bones."
"Your Uncle." She waited a few breaths. "Good. I think we can safely assume that he wasn't setting you up to be killed."
"I don't think anyone was, Madame Bones," Ron said suddenly. "I don't think they were here for me."
"So it was a coincidence you were in the place they decided to hold their debut?"
"I had an exit, Madame Bones," Ron said quickly. "They wouldn't have left a way out if they were here for me."
"True," she allowed. The woman sighed when she saw the pinched look on one of her Auror's face. "Speak."
"Exits were supposed to have been sealed, boss, bastards had three on each one."
"How do you know that?" Bones demanded.
"We found what was left of them, boss, looks like they were in place long before the main group arrived."
"Well?"
"Well it's ugly, boss, guy who did it took his time about it."
"What a bloody mess." Bones pinched the bridge of her nose. "We have a pensive here yet?"
"Just arrived, boss," her aide replied.
"Do you know how to pull out a memory, Mr. Weasley?" Madame Bones asked.
"Yes, Madame Bones, I do, Madame Bones," Ron agreed quickly.
"Do so, I want to see this for myself."
The woman was deathly pale when she came out of the memory, her earlier rage replaced by shock and confusion. "Simmons!"
"Boss?"
"Have the Minister in his office by the time we get there along with a full team of Healers, best we have."
"Yes, boss," the Auror arrived.
"Boot!"
"Yeah?"
"Bag this memory and either get this pensieve to the Minister's office or have another waiting for me," Bones ordered.
"Got it."
"What's happening?" Ron asked nervously. Death Eaters he could handle. Director Bones, the rock of the Ministry acting like she was about to lose it was something else.
"We're going to see your grandfather, we're going to show him what you saw, and we're going to hope to merlin that he doesn't have a heart attack." The Director fixed him with a look. "No more questions until your parents or some other member of your family can answer them. Understood?"
"Yes, Madame Bones."
The Minister was behind his desk and about to doze off in his chair when they got to his office.
"What happened?" he asked, snapping awake as the privacy wards when up.
"Sir . . ." Bones took a deep breath. "We believe there was an attempt on your grandson's life tonight by men dressed up as Death Eaters."
"Wasn't bloody two times enough?" the Minister sighed in frustration. "Was he hurt? Is that why you've got two dozen healers cluttering up my outer office."
"No, sir," Bones said, licking her lips. "I've got something you need to see and I have them on call in case the shock is too much for you."
"I'm not that bloody old," the Minister growled. "I've seen blood before. At least as much and probably a great deal more than you have, young lady."
"Just . . . it's better to see for yourself, sir."
Ron's grandfather came out of the memory looking like he'd just suffered the greatest shock of his life.
"Harry," the Minister said softly.
"You know who that was, Granddad?" Ron asked.
"Very well in fact," the Minister agreed. "The man who saved you was like a brother to your parents and like a son to me," he half sobbed. "For a time, we thought he was going to marry your aunt Ginny." He turned to the Director of Magical Law Enforcement. "Susan?"
"Yes, Arthur?"
"Send someone to fetch my son and daughter in law. I want to know why he hasn't aged a day in the last two and a half decades and if they think that has something to do with why he left."
"Got it. You want me to tell my Aurors to keep an eye out for him?"
"Discreetly," Arthur said after a moment of careful contemplation. "They're not to approach if he lets them find him and they're not to follow."
"I'll have them report only and I'll deal with any contact myself." Susan grinned. "Seems the years haven't slowed him down."
AN: Typos by Luan Mao,
Omake: Mum's Take
"Your aunt Ginny told him some trash about how he'd never be happy unless he was hunting dark wizards," Ron's mum sighed. "Harry was . . . Harry depended on other people to explain the more positive parts of life to him. He didn't . . ." she took a deep breath. "Didn't have a lot of experience in that area so he didn't trust his own judgement. I . . . he decided that if he couldn't be happy himself with a normal life, he couldn't make your aunt happy and that roaming the earth killing dark wizards would make him happy bout it was no life for the woman he loved."
"So he just left?"
"I think so," his mother agreed. "
Omake: Dad's
"Yer mum tell you her theory on why Harry left?"
"Yeah, da," Ron agreed.
"Just so's you know, I think it's complete and utter bollocks." The senior Ron grinned. "Been the cause for more than one row between us, truth be told."
"What do you think, da?"
"Harry leaving was either everyone's fault or no one's. Things quieted down and he was a soldier without a war, soldier who'd never had a moment's peace in his life." Ron's father took a deep breath. "As his friends, it was up to us to notice that he was having a hard time of it and to help him through it."
"You didn't?" he asked in surprise.
"We didn't even notice. Both of us, all of us caught up in a strange mix of emotions. The euphoria of victory, relief it was over, grief for those who'd fallen, and determination to get on with our bloody lives. Left us all focused on ourselves a bit more than was healthy if you ask me. Yer mum doesn't like to think that she might not have been the best friend she could have been and finds it easier to blame yer aunt Ginny."
"What about you, da?"
"I think that there's no sense wondering about what might have been. Best thing is to learn from our mistakes and to try not to repeat them in the future. S'why I've always done my best to drive home jest how important yer friends are and how yeh should never, ever take 'em for granted."
Omake: φοβητός
"Of course I contacted Potter to let him know what was happening here," Draco said with a sneer. "What kind of moronic simpletons are you that you had to ask why?"
"Enlighten us," the young Auror growled.
"Muzzle your puppy or I'll see it done, Bones," Draco ordered.
"Watch your tone with me, Malfoy," Susan snapped back. "Answer the bloody question."
"You know what Potter is capable of, Bones. I imagine you can speculate on how he'd react to one or more of the Weasleys being murdered?" He was rewarded by the sight of the Director of Magical Law Enforcement turning deathly pale. "So what would you do if a bunch of young idiots approached you with a plan to do just that on behalf of their master."
"Why didn't you bring it to me," Susan whispered.
"Ninety nine percent of them came from so called light families. Why should we have to bow down to muggles without a tenth of our power?" Draco's voice turned mocking. "Why should we listen to our parents or take a bloody moment to do a bit of research. Fools."
"You were afraid my department had been compromised," Susan sighed. "Damn it."
"So I let Potter know of course. I do my best to keep a good idea of his general location and activities so that I can quickly move to a new continent if he looks like he might be headed home."
"So why are you still here then?" Bones' aide demanded. "Why didn't you run away the moment Harry Potter got back."
"Because Potter told me not to bother," Draco replied. "I sent out word through enough cut outs that no one should have been able to trace it in a hundred years. Potter showed up in my office, having penetrated my wards and taken me unaware to get the details I had."