Winter 1992

Ronald Weasley

Two letters drifted from the talons of an owl and down through the thick air of the Hogwarts Great Hall. One marked with a wax seal gleamed against the floating candles as they rushed past while the other remained dull and blotched with ink. They swayed slightly like falling leaves before finally landing in the middle of Ron's plate. They knocked aside a piece of toast and nearly toppled over his goblet.

Ron's lips thinned as he looked questioningly at the interruption, his fork still hovering in his right ?His appetite sunk away from him, leaving a steady nervousness in its place. He couldn't imagine why his mother would be mad at him now, after all he hadn't really done anything over all of Christmas break. But, he had written the twins a letter. A letter which might have been a little harsher than he really intended.

He wanted to forgive the twins, he really did, but the thought of looking over his shoulder at the Gryffindor table was enough to make him queasy. He didn't regret what he had said in his letter, it was all true, and the twins deserved to hear it. Because of them, he bit his lip, his own great-aunt spent every Christmas alone. Because of them, Penelope Clearwater of all people had to calm him down on the top of the tower. Because of them, Blaise was attacked in some stupid prank meant to punish Ron for being sorted into a bloody different , I don't care what Mum has to say. They deserved it.

Ron set down his fork and picked up both letters, running his eyes over the addresses. The first was written in his mother's cursive just as he expected but the second… a chill ran through Ron's chest; it was written by Charlie.

For a moment the world seemed to tilt and his vision tinted green. He could smell the smoke and hear the laughter. In less than a heartbeat he dropped the letter, letting it crash back down on his plate and touch the toast farther onto the table. He took a small gasping breath that drew a few sets of eyes.

"Are you alright?" Blaise asked beside him.

Ron nodded. "Yeah, sorry."No, I'm actually seeing things that haven't happened yet. Bloody mental.

Daphne looked from the letter on Ron's plate and up to his eyes. "Are you fighting with your parents again?" Her voice carried a sympathetic tone.

Ron shook his head. "No, I don't think so. I just got a letter from my brother, that's all. I… um… I just wasn't expecting anything."

"One of your brothers who is away?" She asked.

Ron nodded. "Yeah, Charlie."

Daphne looked back down at the letter and Ron followed her gaze.

"You should take a moment," Blaise suggested, "nobody would blame you for stepping out."

Ron nodded and carefully reached forward taking the envelope out of the food again and tucking it behind the one from his mother. Thankfully his vision stayed normal. Although he appreciated Sal's help, for a second he couldn't help but imagine his life if the bloody founders had not interfered. Maybe he wouldn't have been so messed up. He mumbled a goodbye to his friends before he stood up and marched out of the great hall.

Habitually he took the upward staircase towards the seventh floor but stopped himself on the third, walking along one of the corridors until he found a bench which was tucked into one of the walls. He laid both letters beside him and debated which one to open first.

A part of him wanted to tear into Charlie's letter, he wanted to know how his brother was doing and more importantly, he wanted to know if his brother was acting anything like he did in the vision. Ron imagined he still had a while before everybody looked like they did in that future, but he couldn't be too sure. After all, what if he had changed things simply by doing whatever it was he did? What if things were happening faster? Or, he hoped, much slower?

He picked up the letter from his mother instead, deciding that it was better to get whatever bad news she had out of the way. He broke the seal on the envelope and took the paper into his hands. His eyes shifted over the text one line after the other.

He blinked at the pages, his vision blurring slightly and his eyes turning misty. They carried a warmth that he hadn't really felt in a long time, it was like he was being treated as a kid again. His mother apologised again, over and over, and more sincere than the time before. He could almost imagine her saying the words instead of screaming at him in Dumbledore's office. She admitted her mistakes and did so without any excuses.

"I'm proud of you."

His hands trembled as he read the last line and he set the letter down beside him. A large knot of emotion untightened inside of his chest and was suddenly unravelling, spilling out into his brain in warm, untethered relief. It was as if someone had lifted a crushing weight off of don't hate sniffed and rubbed the wetness out of his eyes. He didn't realize how desperately he needed that letter.

He wished he was home, he wished he could hug his mother, his father, and Ginny. He missed them, and even after everything that happened during the year, he still missed them. A part of him wanted to go find Percy and show him the letter too. If there was anyone else who needed an apology it was his brother, and Ron would never forget that Percy stood by him when no one else would.

"Get a grip," he muttered under his own breath. He sniffed trying to reign in his emotions as he took the next letter and opened it.

Charlie's letter was different than Ron's mum's but in a way that Ron really appreciated. Charlie told him all about Romania and Christmas and all the things he had taken Ginny to see. He also told him that he missed him, plainly, and that he hoped Ron would someday visit Romania, which Ron hoped for too. In fact, Ron hoped Charlie would stay in Romania for the rest of his life. As much as he missed his brother he would rather have him alive in Europe than dead at home. And as far as Ron could tell his vision had taken place in either the UK or Ireland so it was probably best if his brother stayed away. After all, how many followers of Voldemort could there possibly be in Eastern Europe? Certainly not as many as Britain, not with people like Lucius Malfoy still alive.

Beyond the parts of the letter recounting Christmas, Charlie told Ron exactly what many others had already told him. He wasn't to blame for what happened on Hallowe'en and everything was going to be alright. Charlie commended him on his bravery and on saving Hermione's life, and although Ron knew Charlie meant it, it still felt a little hollow for him to hear. Ron wondered if he would always feel that way, not guilty, he would kill a hundred trolls to save a witch's life, but just sort of undeserving. After all, there were far better wizards than him who deserved to be called a hero.

Ron placed Charlie's letter beside his mother's and took a brief moment of silence to soak everything in. He felt far better about his family than he had in a long time, the only real obstacles remaining were the twins and Ron wasn't even sure if he cared. After all, he had punished them for what they had done and written a letter telling them off. If they still were content to be prats then he wasn't going to go out of his way to stop them. Ron ran his fingers over the two letters. Things were finally getting better.

- SS -

For the third time that week Ron found himself in the room of requirement, and he held his wand tightly while standing in the centre. A dozen shadows danced along the walls around him, taunting him. He took deep heaving breaths as he tried to slow down his heart and stop the sweat from pouring down his face.

"Focus," Salazar grunted, "you'll die with a distracted mind."

Ron nodded and did his best to ignore the pain in his shoulder. He adjusted his footing in the way that Salazar had told him to and peered out at the far walls where the spectres continued to advance. The yellow one stepped out of the shadows and jabbed its wand forward sending a thin blast of white light spiralling through the air. Ron flinched and raised his hand instinctively to cover his face, the spell knocking into his arm and nearly toppling him over.

"Shit!" he shook the pain out of his arm, the stinging only lasting for a moment but leaving a tender spot of flesh.

"You have to learn how to dodge out of the way!" Salazar scolded. "You will die otherwise. You can not block the killing curse."

"Shouldn't I start with the shield?" Ron asked through heavy breaths.

Salazar appeared from thin air, his eyebrows furrowed. "No, you should not. I have taught many wizards, boy, and you will learn the correct way or not at all. Besides, how many spells do you think you could possibly block at your age? One or two? Then what?"

If I get hit with two spells I think I've already lost.

Ron sighed and adjusted his footing again, taking the low crouch that Salazar suggested. Once again the shadows moved around him, passing through each other and trying their best to confuse him. A red spectre stepped forward as quickly as the first had, and another spiralling blast of white light raced across the room. This time, Ron jumped to one side successfully avoiding the spell but nearly landed on his face. Before he could even stand, another spell clashed with his side.

"Merlin!" The pain was like a blast of fire followed by the chill of ice.

He grunted and muttered a dozen more swears under his breath before standing again.

"Isn't that cheating?" He complained.

"Cheating? Do you think your enemies will fight honourably? That's the hope of someone who is dead. Ask some of the castle ghosts what they think about war."

Ron frowned and readied himself once again. "Are we at war?"

"Not yet, but there is always the possibility."

The yellow spectre attacked again, stepping out of the shadows and launching a vicious-looking blue spell. Ron bit the inside of his cheek and instead of doing what Sal suggested, he stepped forward and slammed his offhand into the spell just before it hit him. He flinched and drew blood from his mouth as the spell ripped up and down his arm. With another swear and a nearly shouted incantation, he flung his other arm out with the reductor curse, smashing the yellow spectre into a million pieces.

"And if that had been a severing charm?" Sal asked mildly.

Ron just grunted.I would have lost my arm but at least the other guy would be dead.

Salazar sighed and the far walls of the room drew closer. The remaining spectres stood still for a moment before returning to nothing but dust and light.

"You will get there, eventually," the founder said. "It's not easy to learn to be a duelist, especially at your age."

Ron took a deep breath, spitting some of the blood from his cheek onto the floor. "I only dodged a couple."

Salazar frowned at him. "You must stop that nasty habit," he said, pointing to Ron's mouth. "It's unbecoming."

Ron nodded and rubbed the outside of his cheek. He doubted he would be able to stop, he had been doing it at least since the beginning of the year. In fact, he hardly even noticed anymore. "It's alright," he shrugged. "It doesn't hurt that much."

"Well, I think that's enough for today. You have come a long way boy, I hope you understand that you are in a position that not many others could claim at your age. I would bet that the entire world would be hard-pressed to find a better-trained eleven-year-old. If it were easy, then the world would be a mess. It takes a special type of person to change things. Even in my time, I was lucky to have myself and three others. Alone, I do not think I could have made all of this. In fact, I know I couldn't."

"And you think I'm that person?" Ron asked. Finally, his breath caught up to him and he felt as if he could breathe normally.

"The ritual says so," Sal nodded. "And, even in the impossible event that it made a mistake, you don't have any choice."

Ron reached into his pocket and rubbed his fingers over the letter from else but me?He frowned and sighed.

"Can we go again?" Ron's voice cracked slightly, and he readjusted his grip on his wand.

Salazar seemed to pause, and then, with a small approving nod, he gestured towards the room. The walls trembled and spread out once more.