Summer 1992

Ronald Weasley

The morning sun stretched golden across the crooked walls of the Burrow, and the air was scented with toast and fried eggs. Ron's fingers drummed against the hem of his sleeves as he darted his eyes between the half-empty plate in front of him and the clocks on the wall. He watched the hands turn with every second and then minute, his stomach churning with both excitement and equal parts anticipation.

His excitement was a steady thrum beneath his skin, running alongside the nervous energy that had yet to settle since he'd woken up that morning. He longed to see his friends again, learn how they had spent their summers, and more importantly, ensure they were still all all right. He couldn't help but imagine horrible things: disasters and murders. He imagined the floors of Greengrass Manor stained red with blood or fresh scars marring Blaise's face.

He couldn't help himself, even if he knew they were paranoid thoughts. Too much had happened last year for him to ever think that things would go well again. And he missed the way magic felt. He missed the way it reassured him with power crackling through his muscles. Absently, he reached his fingers under his sleeve and touched them to his wand. Going without magic was torturous. The week ahead almost seemed to gleam. He willed the clock to move faster. He longed to breathe, to feel magic again, and at least with Daphne, to discuss things plainly.

A sudden weight dropped onto the bench beside him, jarring him from his thoughts. Ginny propped her elbows onto the table, chin resting on her hands as she peered at him with narrowed eyes.

"You're acting strange again," she remarked.

Ron barely spared her a glance. "I am not."

"You are."

Ron sighed and rolled his eyes. "I'm just thinking."

Ginny nudged his plate toward him with a pointed look. "You barely ate," she said. "Mum's going to notice, and you know what happens when she decides you're not eating enough. Do you want her towering over you just before you leave?"

Ron grimaced. She'd already forced a second helping of eggs on him that morning. He grabbed the last piece of toast and tore off a bite. Satisfied, Ginny snatched the remaining half for herself.

"Are you nervous?" she asked, not bothering to close her mouth while she chewed.

Ron stiffened slightly. "No," he lied. "Why would I be?"

Ginny tilted her head. "I don't know. Maybe because you haven't seen your friends in ages? Maybe because you're about to spend a week at a manor that's probably got more rooms than our whole house has floorboards?" She smirked. "I'd be nervous. Like that feeling right before you get hit with a Bludger."

Ron shook his head and reached for his mug. "I'm fine."

Ginny paused for a moment, her lips forming a thin line. "Is Slytherin… nice?"

Ron blinked at her, caught off guard by the question. He couldn't help but picture Sal's face, even though he knew what his sister was really asking. "Why do you ask?" he replied carefully.

Ginny hesitated, toying with a crumb on the table. "I just don't know where I'll end up," she admitted, her voice quieter now. "Mum and Dad always talk like Gryffindor's a given, but… what if it's not?"

Something twisted unpleasantly in Ron's if they treat you like they treated me?He swallowed. He couldn't help but picture Malfoy's smug face sneering as he spoke about blood traitors. The thought of Ginny having to deal with him on top of their parents nearly made him sick. He clenched his jaw tightly.

Instead, he forced a shrug. "It's fine," he said. "Slytherin's not what everyone thinks it is."

"It's not what Mum and Dad think it is, you mean?"

Ron's stomach clenched harder. "No, it's not. It's different… but there are still some gits. There are gits in every house. But, I've made good friends. Really good friends."

Ginny studied him for a moment and opened her mouth to say something else.

"You'll be in Gryffindor," he interrupted her.

She blinked at him. "You don't know that. You thought you would be in Gryffindor too!"

"But I know now," he added. "I know about the sorting. And I know you. And I know you're the most Gryffindor out of any of us. I promise. You're the bravest out of all of us."

Her ears went pink, but she rolled her eyes. "That's dumb."

Ron nodded at her but doubts clouded his mind and clung to him like a heavy mist. He hoped he was right. He couldn't imagine how Ginny's life would change if she followed in his footsteps. Of course, she wouldn't have nearly the same issues he did. But he couldn't help and feel like his parents weren't entirely fine with the way things had ended last term. His mother spoke to him politely, but sometimes, he would catch her looking at him from the corner of his eye. She looked at him as if he was a puzzle to be solved. He wondered more than once if the headmaster or Professor Snape had told them about what had happened with the Philosopher's Stone. Only he knew neither had, as he coasted through the summer without a single punishment. If his parents knew, he nearly winced, he would have spent the entire summer scrubbing the toilets.

"I can't come?" Ginny said suddenly, breaking the second of silence that settled between them.

Ron gave her a sorry look. He wasn't necessarily opposed to taking Ginny with him to Daphne's. He needed something to pry Astoria away from his friends just long enough to discuss what had happened at the end of last year. Yet, he knew his mother would never allow it.

"She barely agreed to let me go," he said. "Only because we're all meeting in Diagon Alley."

Ginny slumped forward onto the table. "It's not fair," she muttered. "I never get to do anything."

"You're going to Hogwarts," he pointed out. "That'ssomething."

"It's not the same," she grumbled. "You lot get to go off and do whatever you want, and I just get left behind like I'm still a child."

Ron glanced down at her, his amusement fading slightly. He wished he had more time to be a kid. He wished he could've just had a normal first year, one where he didn't have to think about murder and conspiracies and ancient magic whispering in his ear. He wished he didn't have to run himself ragged just to make sure he wouldn't fall behind. He wished he could still sleep for more than a few hours every night. He wished the smell of smoke didn't linger in his nostrils.

Ron swallowed thickly and nudged her shoulder. "You'll be at Hogwarts soon," he said. "And then you'll get to do whatever you want."

"I hope so."

Ginny sighed and sat up, rubbing her arms as though trying to shake off her frustration. Then, without warning, she turned and threw her arms around Ron, hugging him tightly. He stiffened in surprise but wrapped his arms around her as well.

"I hope you don't change again this year," she mumbled against his shoulder.

Ron's breath caught in his throat. A cold, creeping sensation slid through his veins as if ice had settled beneath his …

He could hardly remember who he had been before he had seen Charlie's death, and even the version of himself that had started Hogwarts last year seemed to be nothing but a can I not change?He had done too much and seen too much.

Ron swallowed and let out a ragged breath, his fingers tightening slightly on her back. "I'll try not to," he said, the words feeling strange on his tongue.

Ginny pulled away from him and gave him a strange look. It was as if she wasn't entirely convinced. Then, with one last glance at him, she turned and disappeared up the stairs.

Ron bit the inside of his cheek as he mulled over his sister's words. He wondered what she really thought and whether or not it had anything to do with her question about Slytherin. He was sure, after all, that she had heard some of the things the twins had whispered, not to mention whatever she had been subject to while he was away at Hogwarts. Perhaps, he almost hoped, she thought the reason he had changed was because of his sorting. It wasn't the worst assumption, even if it would be short-lived. Soon, he frowned, she would join her fellow first years and hear the gossip that floated through the halls. She would hear the lies that they said about him. Lies that were lies and truths all at once; he did kill a troll, and he did help Harry Potter kill Professor Quirrell. It was probably what most people thought of him, but it wasn't why he had changed. Only one person knew the real reason, and she had changed partially, too.

"Ron," his mother's voice called, pulling him out of his thoughts. He turned to see her standing in the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron. "It's time to go."

Ron nodded and offered a small smile. His mother's eyes flicked over him as though looking for anything that could possibly be wrong. Finally, she let out a deep, nosey breath.

"Are you absolutely sure you've packed everything?" she asked, for the third time.

Ron gave her a half-smile. "Yes, Mum."

She narrowed her eyes. "Toothbru—"

"Everything," he interrupted. "I packed last night."

Molly pursed her lips, then let out a small huff. "Alright, alright. I just don't want you realizing halfway there that you've forgotten something important."

Ron wrinkled his nose and tilted his head slightly. "It's only the Floo, I could come back if I needed."

"And waste more powder?" Molly Weasley sighed. "You and your brothers will be the death of us."

A bitter shiver raced down Ron's can buy more bloody Floo powder after not buying me a wand last year.

- TToS -

Ron stumbled out of the fireplace in a whirl of green flames, his foot catching on the raised edge of the hearth. His balance tipped dangerously forward, and he barely managed to right himself. His trunk, however, slipped from between his fingers and thumped softly into the carpet.

Ron blinked the soot out of his eyes as he tried to gain his bearings and ward off the dizziness that came with travelling by floo. Finally, the Greengrass entrance hall settled into view and his breath hitched. It was exactly as he remembered it; tall walls that were panelled in dark polished wood that seemed to shine beneath the bright white light of a large chandelier of glowing crystals. Above him, paintings of the countryside lined the walls and breathed a familiar welcoming scent into the room.

"Quite the entrance," a deep voice observed smoothly.

Ron winced and turned to the voice, doing his best to stand up straight. His gaze landed on Aloris Greengrass, who wore a small smile and had a single raised eyebrow. The man's robes looked slightly disheveled, as if he had just wrangled a hippogriff.

"Welcome back, Ronald," he offered politely.

Ron opened his mouth to greet Aloris back but shut it quickly as his eyes switched to the girl standing beside him.

Daphne had grown taller over the summer, enough that Ron immediately noticed. She looked more like her mother than the last time he had seen her. Her posture was almost perfect, relaxed yet poised and about as straight as someone could comfortably stand. And her hair, which had been long before but never as long as it now was, cascaded around her shoulders in sleek, silken waves that nearly reached to the hem of her dress. a deep, rich, green dress that ended at her knees and spread out into translucent black caping fabric.

Daphne tilted her head slightly as if assessing him just as much as he was assessing her. Then, after a beat, she smirked. "You're staring, Weasley."

Ron blinked, feeling heat prickle the back of his neck. "Am not," he muttered.

Aloris chuckled, a quiet sound that seemed to fill the air with even more warmth. "Well," he said simply, "It's good to see you again, and I see that you're still making use of your Christmas gifts."

Ron smiled back at him as he was suddenly aware of the ring on his right hand. "Yeah, I haven't taken it off."

"A wise choice," Aloris said approvingly. "It suits you."

"Something has to," Daphne breathed beside him.

Ron hesitated for a beat before rolling up the sleeve of his right arm just enough to expose the slim leather holster wrapped around his forearm. He ran his fingers over the finely stitched edges before glancing up. "This, too," he added. "Tracey gave it to me on New Year's."

Aloris hummed, stepping forward slightly to examine it. "A very fine gift," he mused. "She has good taste."

Ron nodded, not bothering to point out that it was he who had looked at the holster first. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, she does… would it be alright if I cast a spell?"

Daphne's father let out a low, amused chuckle. "You really are quite different from my daughter," he said, shaking his head slightly. "She never asks, she just does." He earned yet another glare from Daphne. "Of course, you may. Just nothing dangerous or messy. I'd rather not trouble the elves."

Ron grinned widely, letting out a too-long carried breath. He pulled his wand from the holster in a practiced motion, letting the warmth and weight settle into his fingers and pulse up his arm in calming waves. He lifted his left hand carefully and faced his palm towards himself. With a wave and a muttered word, air turned to water and water to ice, forming a perfect cube in the centre of his palm. The magic shot through his arm and his muscles, flooding his veins with the powerful feeling that he had missed so desperately. He took a deep breath, savouring the way it felt to finally cast a spell after months without.

"Out of all of the spells, you choose that one?" Daphne asked, a smirk returning to her face.

"It's been on my mind," he said. A knowing look passed between them.

"Not something I would have ever thought of," Aloris commented. "I can see the use of it. In any case, once again, welcome to our home, Ronald. I hope you have a pleasant week here. I'm afraid I will be sequestered to my office for most of the time, but perhaps, if you are willing, we might find time for a game of chess?" Aloris asked, and Ron nodded. "Perfect. Then I will leave you two to wait for the rest of your friends."

Aloris disappeared down the hall, his departure leaving a steady silence. One which Ron wasn't sure how to fill. He glanced towards Daphne, half-expecting her to say something, but instead, she just stared at him for a moment, her arms folded neatly across her chest.

It was a few seconds before she finally spoke. "You've changed."

Ron flinched. For a moment, he could feel Ginny's arms wrapped tightly around him again, her voice small as she whispered against him. His grip tightened around the cube of ice, the cold feeling contrasting with the warmth that filled his right hand. He shoved his thoughts down, forcing himself to focus on the present.

"You have too," he said instead, gesturing vaguely. "You're taller."

Daphne hummed, tilting her head in consideration. "I suppose I have gotten taller. You've actually changed."

He forced a smirk. "What? Am I taller too?"

Daphne rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."

He did. He had taken Sal's words to heart and had done exactly as the Hogwarts founder had asked. He had spent most of the summer taking over his sibling's physical chores when he could, running to the end of the field and back and swimming. As much as he had grown taller, he had also slimmed. His face had narrowed slightly, and the dark patches that hovered under his eyes had grown lighter from the comfort of his own bed.

"You know what Salazar told us," he said quietly.

Daphne nodded. "I'm glad that you listened. My sister is starting this year."

"It won't be like last year," Ron said firmly. "Nothing is going to happen. We're going to get to the bottom of things before it can."

Daphne's lips formed into a thin line, and she studied him for a moment. "You don't actually believe that, do you?" she asked. "You know what you found, Ron. The room, the runes… It's something bigger than what happened last year. And we have no idea what it is."

Bigger?Ron swallowed. He hated to think about it. He had spent the entire summer trying not to think about it and trying to bury it under anything else.

Still, he forced himself to nod. "Maybe," he admitted. "But we will figure it out, Daphne. Before it's too late."

"That's what I'm worried about," she muttered. "That it is already too late. The summer is so long."

Ron's stomach twisted. "My sister starts this year too," he said quietly.

"She's coming with us to Diagon Alley, isn't she?" Daphne asked.

"I think so."

"Remember the deal I offered you at the beginning of last year?"

Ron frowned, he remembered declining the deal. He remembered not being able to tell anyone the truth of what was happening to him. Even now, he could tell no one but Daphne. "I do…"

"I want to make a new one," she said quietly. "The same rules as last time, but with some new ones. We both have sisters starting this year, and we both know what that means. They could have easily been that Hufflepuff girl, and they both could have easily been Granger. I want you to promise me, Ron, that you'll look out for Astoria. I'll do the same for your sister, I promise. I'll tell you if I hear of anyone so much as looking at her sharply."

Ron was caught off guard by the tone in Daphne's voice. It was one of the only times she seemed to actually be pleading. He gave her a soft look and nodded gently. "Alright," he said. "I promise."

Daphne, seemingly satisfied, reached her hand out to him. Ron took her hand into his palm and shook it gently.

"Er, do I actually have to kiss it?" he asked, glancing up at her.

"You're a brute, Weasley," she sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Not an answer," Ron muttered.

Daphne pulled her hand back with an exaggerated huff, waving him off like he was an idiot. "You'll figure it out eventually."

"So… about Astoria," he said carefully. Do you think we should tell her? About… Sally Smith and the blood?"

Daphne grimaced, and her expression faltered. "I don't know," she admitted. "She's clever, more than people give her credit for. But she's also so… young. I don't want to scare her."

Ron nodded, "I just don't know how we're going to talk about things with her around. I'd like to tell everyone about the room I found. Even if they don't know everything, they still deserve to know there's a threat."

We'll figure it out," Daphne murmured, her lips thinning. "Let's just see how things go first. Before we make any decisions."

Ron exhaled. "Yeah. Alright."

A few seconds of renewed silence stretched between them, only to be broken by the gentle crackle of the fireplace. They both turned in time to catch an eruption of violent green flames, the entire room turning a slight shade of the same colour. A moment later, a figure stepped through, unbothered by the warmth.

Tracey Davis landed lightly, brushing soot from her sleeves and trunk as she flicked her eyes up and caught his. Her lips curled into a grin, and Ron smiled back.