Spring 1981

?

Somewhere deep in the forest nothing became something. The ground shook and birds took flight, where once seedlings sprouted silken ash rained down and coated the grass in a snow like none other. An orb centred it all, made of pure luminosity, shimmers of gold and glistens of silver. It rose above the tops of the trees and let itself be taken by the wind. It floated over lands and oceans for days and nights until it nested on the edge of a paddock. A boy, young and wide eyed, caught a glimpse of it and he devoured all the knowledge it held. His ginger hair, not yet tufts, swayed with the wind but around him the stalks of corn stayed still.

- SS -

Autumn 1990

Ronald Weasley

Ron squinted as he rose high into the air, the old cracked handle of the broom rumbled beneath him and protested with every turn. He let go with one hand and stretched his arm as far as it could go where his fingers grasped at the beating wings of a rusted snitch. Just when his fingers touched, just when he had almost won, the wings stilled. The snitch dropped out of Ron's grasp carried away with the unrelenting force of gravity. It caught the air a few metres beneath him and fluttered away out of sight.

Bloody hell. Ron wrapped his free hand back around the handle of the broom. It groaned and complained and rumbled harder until he was forced to lean back and let it slow. I almost had it, he complained to himself. He wondered how seekers could ever stand the things, being a keeper was so much simpler.

Ron turned left in a large arc over the yard, his eyes scanned for any more signs of the aging snitch. Somewhere off to his left someone shouted, probably another goal for the other team. It didn't seem very fair that his brother's Fred and George got to be on the same team. After all, he and Ginny weren't even old enough to go to Hogwarts yet.

Somewhere to his right he caught a glimpse of gold. Ron turned hard, the broom strained under his control. The turn was tight, too tight, and Ron slid sideways, his right hand pushed off the broom and his legs twirled around the handle. He pinned his legs together as tightly as he could and slowed the inevitable for only a moment. Then, just as it has done with the snitch, gravity took hold of him.

Ron didn't have time to scream before he hit the ground.

- SS -

The world felt thick and muddied like the dark shadow of a humid fog. Ron's ears rang with a mechanical humming and his eyes burned; he struggled to keep them open.

Greys faded and were replaced slowly by colours, his eyes focused and absorbed the darkness around him. Ron could feel his heart thump heavy in his chest, it was faster then it had ever been before.

"Hello?" He asked the darkness. There was no reply, just the same low hum. Bumps ran up and down his arms.

Ron stepped forward and the air was heavy like water. His muscles ached as they pushed against an invisible force, harder and harder, and then he nearly stumbled. The humming ended, replaced by the crackle of fire, then footsteps in mud, and finally muffled voices.

In an instant he was no longer alone, rows upon rows of canvas tents stretched out as far as Ron could see, thin flags of green, white, and orange adorned their tops and flickered in the slight wind of the night. Crowds of people, wizards and witches, moved with thick smiles and light feet. They laughed and danced.

There was something familiar about a certain group and as Ron struggled to look closer the entire world seemed to move beneath him. He rushed forward through objects and people as if they were nothing but ghosts until he stood where his attention had been drawn.

A small group of red-heads and a few others too stood around a fire that seemed itself to be alive. The fire danced like a person would and above it the blackness of the sky retreated with an explosion of gold, a unicorn forming from the light.

Ron studied the faces of the group, perplexed by what they were. He looked into his own eyes, sunken into a gaunter face that towered some feet over him. Ginny stood next to the other him, older with long hair that braided around her neck. The others too were some version of his family, Charlie was stronger, his father's hair filled with flecks of grey, Percy wearing a robe that spoke of money, the twins almost unrecognisable by how much they had changed. And there were others too, a boy with long black hair that stuck off his head in wild ways, he wore thick-rimmed glasses that sat on the tip of his nose. A girl stood beside that boy, a brunette with bushy locks.

I'm dead, Ron felt his stomach churn itself into knots. He remembered the feeling of the air as he fell from his broom, he felt the way it wrapped around him, and he couldn't remember the feeling of hitting the ground. He swallowed. I can't be dead can I? He asked himself. His heart pumped with adrenaline and bumps raced up and down his arms. He felt very much alive. To be sure, he pinched himself hard enough to leave a bruise, it hurt. What then?

As if the question was to be answered, the air began to burn at Ron's skin with a crackling and tingling level of electricity. Somewhere, far past where Ron could see, an explosion burned into the sky and shockwaves raced through the earth. Tent spokes flew from the ground and people stumbled over. Ron himself hardly moved, his legs and eyes locked in place.

Ron's father said something, the words muffled and lost between whatever separated Ron from the world around him. The group split into two, Ron's father took Charlie and Percy with him towards the direction of the explosion while everyone else retreated towards the thick brush of the woods.

Ron found himself pulled alongside his father and brothers. He watched as they pushed against a crowd that seemed to want to flee in the opposite direction. They were like salmon forcing their way up a rather stubborn and fast stream. Black plumes of smoke told of fires somewhere beyond. It wasn't long before all three, his father and brothers, had their wands readied, and sent streams of water in large arcs across the tents along either side of the path.

Something was wrong, Ron thought. It was a strange feeling, the kind that settled on the back of his mind, but something was wrong. The entire situation seemed completely unnatural like he had slipped into some other place. A place where he wasn't entirely a person but just something, whatever was after death. It made him shiver, and even as they approached flames, he still felt cold.

A sharp crack reverberated through the air. A man twisted into being having appeared from somewhere else. He was a tall, dark man with a small blue cap and he felt oddly familiar. Ron's father greeted the man like an old friend. Someone I've met before? Ron asked himself. He couldn't remember, he found it hard to focus, his mind seemed fuzzy.

Black smoke rose in the air from other sections of the camp and in their wake followed a chorus of muffled laughter. Around a corner where two scorched tents met came five wizards decked in cloaks as black as tar. Each of them had their wands in hand and raised towards the air. Silvery masks adorned their faces, no two quite the same but all skeletal and eerie.

The man in the blue cap stepped forward and raised his wand. He shouted something but the masked wizards reacted only with another fit of gross laughter. They separated from each other in well-practised steps, each pointed their wand at one of Weasleys or the man in the blue cap. Charlie seemed to be overflowing with rage, his face red and snarled, while Ron's father and Percy looked much more grim. Ron felt like throwing up.

The sky lit up with an explosion of bright green, far brighter than the fireworks. Ron watched in curious horror as a great green serpent rose from the forests where the rest of the Weasleys had hidden. The snake swirled around another shape, transformed it, and turned it into a giant looming skull. Ron noticed Percy shivered where he stood.

Another fit of maniacal laughter filled the air. One of the wizards flicked his wand in just a subtle way with almost a whisper of words. Another bright green flash drew Ron's attention. A venomous spell closed the distance between the two groups and Ron witnessed his father scream as the spell splashed against Charlie's side. Charlie tumbled over in a slump of lifelessness like a puppet whose strings were cut. Ron looked on in horror.

The man with the cap retaliated with a large ray of blinding white light but by then it was already too late. Each masked wizard disappeared one by one with a small pop of apparition, none getting close to the scorching hot beam.

Charlie Weasley, Ron's brother, laid still on the trodden grass path.