Autumn ?

Ronald Weasley

Ron stood on the side of an unfamiliar stretch of road while his ears rang sharply in his head. Despite himself, he had trouble recalling how he had gotten to the place. He remembered his entire body aching and his eyes growing heavy after he had exploded the Hogwarts troll. But past that? … The air wasn't as cold as it should have been.

It was night already, which seemed to Ron that he had travelled a long way. The moon was perfectly crescent, hanging somewhere near the middle of the sky, a thousand flickering stars flanking it on all sides. He took a breath of the air, and despite the fact that he was outside, it seemed stale and heavy with the smell of potion. It was enough to make him cough harshly. He held his hand under his mouth as he did so, specks of blood splattered his palm only to disappear a second later.

His heart thumped wildly, a sickening thought creeping into the corners of his is a vision.

He felt sick again, far more than he had when he was guilty. It was enough to force him to fall to his knees and heave into the grass aside the path. Only, his stomach was empty and nothing came out of him except for more faint specks of blood which too faded into nothing. It took him a few minutes to gather himself together, it might have been five or twenty, his sensation of time seeming completely distant.

When finally he managed to stand, he noticed that the road he stood on was flanked by quaint brick cottages. Pumpkins lined steps and candles burned away the Hallowe'en,he thought. His mind drifted back to the events that had just occurred.

He worried a lot about Harry, after having seen the boy be thrown aside by the troll. He had moved of course, but in doing so he had clutched at himself in a way that left Ron grimacing. He imagined his friend had been hurt pretty badly, maybe broken bones or worse. He felt some responsibility for Harry following him, guilt once again found a home in his stomach. Ron took a deep breath. At least, he conceded, he had stopped Hermione's death. That was his job, wasn't it? To protect Hogwarts and its students. A small part of him hoped that Salazar would be proud. He almost yearned for the founder's respect, after all, he was one of the greatest wizards to ever live.

Ron looked down at his hand again. It seemed normal, and he couldn't make out where the blood had been. It sent a shiver down his spine as he considered what the blood might have meant. He had exploded something far closer than Salazar probably would have suggested. Which meant, he frowned, he may have accidentally hurt himself in the process. He wondered if he lay dying somewhere with the professors crowded around him and trying their best to save him. Or, worse, he still lay in the bathroom and was dying ever slowly. No one had found them, and no one had heard the troll. He couldn't know.

He searched inside his robes for his wand and found it in its usual spot. Despite whatever magic that made up the vision, when he touched his wand he received the familiar dose of warmth that he had come to appreciate. It washed away some of the guilt and worry and urged him sooner I find out what happens, the sooner I can go back.

As if the world had been listening to his thoughts, a man appeared at the end of the street. He wore a black set of robes that hung over him and shrouded his face almost completely. As he grew closer, Ron could see a set of thin lips set in pale white skin. The man had a confident walk, the sort that seemed to scream of danger and Ron regarded him carefully. He thought at first that it might have been the man that killed Charlie. It took him a minute to realise that the man on the street was too tall, and his shoulders held too high.

The man stopped at the front gate of one of the houses. He tilted his head slightly as if he wondered if he had the right address. Out of the man's sleeve slipped a long yew wand that almost mimicked the shape of bone. The tip glowed a slight white before it retreated once again. The man reached over the gate and unlocked it.

Ron hurried to catch up, keeping his eyes fixed on the man. He needed to know what was happening, he had to keep track of everything so that he could stop it. That was, of course, if he could stop his visions from happening like Sal suggested. It seemed odd to Ron that Hogwarts falling would have such a strange set of outcomes as to lead to this man being on this street on a Hallowe'en night and to also lead to his own brother's death.

The man approached the door and without so much as lifting his wand again or even saying a word, he waved his free hand to unlock it. Ron kept close, and as the man slipped into the cottage, he did so too.

Ron froze in place, his eyes meeting the face of a man who stood up from a nearby armchair. Raven-coloured black unkempt hair swirled around an adult face that wore a set of thin ?

For whatever reason, Ron looked on as Harry Potter stood in the centre of the cottage's living room. The room which was well kept, upholstered furniture set square around a small oak tea table, the walls a fine colour of red that was close to the Gryffindor colour but not quite. A strange wand lay on the table, Harry's eyes drifted over it and back to the man who had been in the street.

"Lilly!" Harry called loudly, his voice aged with time. "Take Harry and run!"

Somewhere above them, feet moved quickly.

"You could have made this world a better place", the man from the street seemed to whisper.

Ron's heartbeat turned faster, he had heard those words before. The night that he had nearly passed out on the kitchen floor. The man from the street was the same man whose laughter he knew too well.

"And I will," Harry answered.

"You will do nothing, except die here tonight. Only if you are wise will you step aside, and let me do what must be done."

"You are a monster," Harry said back.

"Am I?" The man from outside asked coolly. "I had not noticed."

All at once, Harry dived for the wand on the table. He got up only halfway before the man from the street raised his wand and muttered the killing curse. The bannisters of the stairs seemed to glow like lightning rods and then it splashed against Harry's chest and he fell limply to the floor. His life sucked entirely out of him in less than a second.

Ron stared ahead with widened is going to die too?

"You would have made a fine follower, James Potter," the man from the street whispered.

Ron looked at the body on the floor and considered what the man had Potter?Ron knew that name didn't he? He thought for a moment until he realised it was the name of Harry's father. But that meant?

Ron looked back to the man from the street and swallowed thickly. He was standing in front of you-know-who. In front of… Voldemort. His hands trembled with fear.

Ron's mind rushed with what that could possibly mean. Seers saw the future didn't they? He knew he wasn't a proper seer, at least not from what Sal had told him, but shouldn't he be seeing things that haven't happened? Perhaps he had died in the explosion. Maybe he had killed himself to save Harry and Hermione, and maybe that was why he was seeing the death of Harry's parents. Ron wasn't convinced entirely because of the blood he had coughed up. Still, he knew that this night was one full of death. First Harry's father then his mother, and then Voldemort himself. Perhaps he was here because he was dead too? He didn't know.

Ron glanced back at James Potter's body. His eyes weren't the colour of Harry's. Ron imagined Harry lying in the same place and shuddered.

Voldemort reached up and slipped his hood off of his head. The man looked scarier than Ron could have imagined, his skin almost as pale as a vampire with thin pink lips. The dark lord had eyes that seemed to glow red and blue veins were visible at the base of his scalp just below well-kept brown hair. He didn't have the horrific qualities of an eldritch monster, but Ron found him scarier despite this. He looked almost human but entirely not.

Ron followed Voldemort up the narrow staircase and onto the second floor of the cottage. The stairs groaned and creaked beneath the dark lord's feet as if they were warning of his arrival. The hall at the top of the stairs didn't seem to deter him as he went immediately to one of the doors, reaching out and twisting the knob. Something had been pushed against the door in a futile attempt to keep the man out.

The dark lord flashed in annoyance and swept his hand towards the door. It flew off its hinges with a great gust of wind, pushing aside whatever had been keeping it shut and slamming into the ceiling before falling down in the centre of the room. A scared-looking red-haired woman, Lily, stood in front of a pram where a baby cooed. Tears were on her cheeks as she stood her ground, no wand to be seen.

Ron could hardly believe the things he was witnessing. It was entirely tragic and he wondered how Harry could stand it. He knew his friend had mentioned that he didn't recall much, but he wondered if that was because thinking about it was too heartbreaking. After all, Ron felt his own heart squirm inside him. He wanted to reach out and step in front of the dark lord, to take the curse himself. Only, he pictured James Potter's body, he knew that would be no good. Instead he wished he could cast an explosion again, to rip Voldemort apart just as he did the troll. He didn't dare to try, not sure of what would happen. After all, he had to remind himself, these things had already happened. He couldn't change the past.

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" Lilly cried. Ron could hardly watch.

"Stand aside, you silly girl . . . stand aside now."

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead—"

"This is my last warning—"

"Not Harry! Please . . . have mercy . . . have mercy. . . . Not Harry! Not Harry! Please— I'll do anything— "

The bone wand raised again and a bright green flash spread around the room. Lily fell to the floor, lifelessly. Only Harry, the dark lord, and Ron remained.

Harry seemed not entirely sure about what was happening, Ron searching his friend's emerald green eyes for some form of recognition. As babies often did when they heard loud noises, he began to cry.

The dark lord sneered at the child, pure hate seeming to roll off of him in waves that pulsed the air around him. Ron couldn't help but watch, his eyes glued to the scene.

The grimness of what was happening did not stop Ron's subtle curiosity. He hated the scene so immensely, he wanted it to stop so badly, and yet, he wanted to know how Harry survived. He wanted to know how Charlie could survive. He needed to save his brother.

Finally, a green light flashed. In less then a second it collided with Harry only to bounce off as if it was nothing. It rebounded back towards the dark lord and struck him in the centre of the chest. Voldemort, unlike any other death that Ron had seen from the killing curse, seemed to scream. His body became ash-like as he fell to the ground. When he settled, Ron looked up at the lightning-shaped scar on Harry's forehead. Only, Ron didn't know how he got it.