Summer 1992

Ronald Weasley

The common room had devolved into a storm of hissing voices and restless movement. Overhead, someone, likely a well-meaning seventh-year, had hung large green and silver banners, their edges frayed black from stray curses and hexes flung from the crowd below. It was the most crowded Ron had ever seen the common room, packed with nearly every Slytherin who had returned after dinner, frustrations simmering beneath waves of grimaces, smirks, and polite smiles. The air was thick with muttered threats and whispered plans, a quiet, seething promise that Gryffindor wouldn't win the House Cup again next year. Ron found the room suffocating, and a part of him was glad Slytherin hadn't won. He imagined that things would have been even worse. The thought of seeing Malfoy smirk in a pleased manner only made him wish he had punched him early.

"Are you still being an idiot?" A voice cut through his thoughts, and Ron turned to see Daphne standing behind him with her arms crossed and an eyebrow arched.

Ron sighed. "You're still mad at me?"

Daphne narrowed her eyes at him and let out a small breath. "Of course, I am. But I'm not nearly as idiotic as you are, so… I've come to apologise."

Huh? "Apologise?" He repeated.

"Yes, exactly…" Daphne shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Aren't you going to say something back?"

Ron looked into her eyes and frowned slightly.I'm not sorry.

"I understand… why I upset you," he said slowly. "Really, I do. You're worried about Astoria. But I can't just let people beevil.I can't look the other way and pretend it's not happening."

"I'm not asking you to pretend it's not happening," Daphne said and sighed. "I'm asking you to learn how to prioritize. To put…" She glanced around quickly. "... work, ahead of anything else. Ahead of throwing punches at people like Ollivander."

Ron shrugged. "I'll figure it out."

"You'll figure out how to get everyone killed," Daphne said under her breath. A small moment of silence stretched between them. "Sorry… I was meant to apologise."

Ron nodded. "Yeah, I'm sorry too," he mumbled. He was sorry that no one seemed to understand what was wrong with the world and that no one besides him seemed to want to fix things.

"Can we just not argue about this?" she asked.

Huh? You're the one who started…Why did it matter? Ron bit the inside of his cheek. Whatever he needed for Malfoy or Ollivander, he was sure that Theo would help him if Daphne wouldn't.

"Yeah," Ron said, "I don't really think we have a choice. Not if we're going to find out about what happened."

Daphne nodded. "It's going to be hard to do that over the summer."

Ron frowned. He hadn't thought much about the summer or what he would do. It was quickly approaching, and yet, all he could think about was the next term. His thoughts muddled with what needed to be done both to find out who attacked Sally Smith and to ensure it didn't happen again.

"I'll have to speak to Sal, probably tonight," he finally said. "He'll have some suggestions on what to do while we're not here."

Daphne nodded in agreement and exhaled sharply. "Well, if you're going to keep throwing yourself at every noble cause, you'll be pleased to know that Potter's woken up. At least, that's what I heard from some third-years."

Ron's head snapped toward her. "He has?"

Daphne shrugged. "A few students overheard Madam Pomfrey talking about it when they walked past the hospital wing. He's still in rough shape, but…" She waved a hand vaguely. "Alive. Conscious. Should be up and about soon."

Ron felt something inside him ease, but before he could settle into that relief, something else took its place. A sharp, cold weight filled his chest and threatened to send him toppling over onto the floor. He swallowed back the guilt as best as he could.

Harry had almost died to destroy the stone, and yet, Ron had tried to steal it. It didn't matter that they had won, that they had stopped Professor Quirrell and Voldemort. Harry had nearly died and Ron had betrayed him all at once. Ron felt as if he could hardly breathe; he clenched his jaw and tried his best to take deep breaths. He had forsaken the boy-who-lived and had gained nothing, it was only a matter of time before Hermione or someone else let him know how things really happened. It was only a matter of time before Ron would have to face his actions. And, the thought stirred at him sickeningly, Ron didn't regret it.

Daphne frowned slightly, watching him. "Ron?"

He took a breath, forcing himself to look away. "Yeah. That's good," he said stiffly.

Daphne studied him for a moment. "We can go see him if you want."

Ron hesitated. The thought of walking into the infirmary and looking Harry in the eye felt like a lead weight pressing on his chest. "I… I'll figure it out," he muttered.

"Figure it out?" Daphne asked him. "You did what you thought was right. He could be annoyed at you, but how do you think he'll feel if you just avoid him?"

Ron's stomach , she's right.

"I lied to him…"

Daphne shrugged. "We're a house of liars. Potter should know that, and I don't think he'll blame you. Not if you explain yourself."

"Explain myself?" Ron swallowed. "Explain that after he nearly died at the hands of one of our Professors, I simply took the thing he almost died to protect. That I would have taken it and used it… probably without telling him."

"I wouldn't include that last part," Daphne rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Weasley, can you get a grip for a minute? You want to punch Ollivander in the face because he doesn't want you to hang out with Granger and Potter, but you also… don't want to hang out with Potter?"

"It's different."

"Well, the difference is that if you listened to Ollivander, you could still be friends with Potter secretly. But if you don't see him before the end of the year, you might never be his friend again."

"I thought you didn't like him?"

"Potter?" Daphne raised an eyebrow. "I've already told you, I'm not an idiot. It doesn't matter if I like Potter or not, and honestly, I've never really tried. It's about us and how you needed Potter's help with the stone, and nothing is saying you won't need his help again. Not to mention I'm sure you'll let whatever happens between you and Potter affect our search for what's really happening."

"I wouldn't," Ron defended. He wanted to remain Harry's friend, but if they parted, he still had no choice. He still had to save Charlie.

"I don't believe you," Daphne said, narrowing her eyes. "So, we're going to go see him. And if you don't want to, then I'm going to go see him myself, and I'll tell him what happened, fully."

Ron stared at her the fuck is wrong with you? Ugh!

Ron mumbled something close to an agreement but without any actual words. Daphne, apparently satisfied, turned on her heel and strode toward the exit. Ron followed, matching her pace as they stepped out into the corridor beyond the common room.

The difference was stark. The common room had been buzzing, almost suffocating in its chaos, but the dungeons themselves were dead footsteps echoed slightly against the cold stone floor. The air was damp, carrying a faint chill that had persisted into the early days of summer.

Neither of them spoke as they climbed the stairs, moving steadily toward the hospital wing. The deeper they went into the castle, the emptier it felt. Most of the students were likely still in their common rooms, either celebrating or fuming over the House Cup results. It made the corridors feel abandoned, as if the entire school had hollowed itself out for them and them alone. Ron's chest felt just as hollow. He did his best to keep his gaze ahead, but his thoughts were an utter mess. Seeing Harry again meant facing what he'd done. It meant answering questions he wasn't sure he had the right words for.

Daphne, on the other hand, didn't seem to share any of his hesitations. Ron envied her and how despite learning everything that he knew, despite sharing in his secrets, she didn't have to carry nearly as much of the weight. He knew he shouldn't have; he didn't want her to feel as he did, but he couldn't help himself.

As they neared the infirmary, the heavy oak door swung open before they could even reach for it, and Ron stopped dead in his tracks.

Hermione stepped into the hallway first, eyes bright with surprise, her expression shifting almost immediately from relief to something unreadable the moment she saw him. Ron's breath caught. His eyes locked onto hers, and for a second, the entire castle felt still. Then, slowly, carefully, his eyes slid past her, landing on the figure just behind her: Harry.

The boy-who-lived looked different. He had a tired gloss in his eyes, and he was somehow thinner than he was at the start of the year. Even beneath the orange glow of the torchlight, he seemed to be pale. But, Ron was glad to see, he was very clearly alive.

"Hi," Harry said politely. A small smile spread across the boy's lips ,and Ron felt like the worst friend in the world.

His mouth went dry. Ron shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

Daphne gave Ron a stern look before directing her attention to Harry. "Potter," she said casually. "You missed the feast."

"We won, didn't we?" he said in return, a small glimmer of something in his green eyes.

Daphne nodded. "I wouldn't say that too loudly, not around Slytherins at least."

"It wasn't stolen," Hermione protested. "The headmaster has every right to give out as many points as he wishes."

"He does," Daphne said, her lips thinning. "He does…"

"You look better," Ron finally managed. He felt as if he was going to throw up.

"Thanks," Harry said. "I'm glad that you and Hermione weren't hurt. I don't remember too much about what happened, but… Dumbledore and Hermione filled in the rest."

Ron flinched. "Look, I…"

Harry raised a hand. "It's alright, Ron. We can talk about it when I'm feeling a bit better. But I don't think you did anything that wrong. I mean, you shouldn't have lied to the headmaster… but… I understand."

Daphne turned to Ron and gave him a small look as if to goad him that she was always right.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said. "I wouldn't have told Harry all that happened if I knew you were going to come see him."

"It's alright," Ron mumbled. "It's probably better that you told him."

"I wonder what it would taste like," Harry said. "Did you think about that?"

Taste like? The Elixir of Life?

"Probably terrible," Daphne answered. "Most potions are miserable."

Hermione's eyes widened. "You told her about what happened!"

Daphne gave her a dead look. "Surprised?"

"No, it's just," Hermione said quickly, "Ron shouldn't be telling everyone that he tried to lie to the headmaster."

"I haven't been telling everyone!" Ron said. "Just some people… you know… just my friends."

"He isn't dead," Harry said darkly. "Voldemort."

A shiver ran down Ron's spine, and Daphne looked visibly uncomfortable.

"I know," Ron said. "Hopefully, we never see him again."

"I'm going to kill him," Harry continued. "I don't know when or how, but I'm going to do it. He killed my parents."

"I didn't think you'd be the type," Daphne said.

"She's right," Hermione frowned. "You can't mean that, Harry."

"No, I do mean it," he glared at Hermione. "I'm going to kill him, and nothing is going to stop me from doing so." his green eyes locked on Ron's. "Will you help me? Kill him?"

Ron's eyes widened slightly. He wanted to make the world a better place, didn't he? If Voldemort somehow managed to survive until after Hogwarts was safe, then why shouldn't he help Harry kill him? "Of course," he nodded. "I wouldn't miss it."

"Good," Harry nodded in return. "We can talk about it next year."

Ron frowned. "About that, there's something you should know. Some older Slytherins are threatening me to stay away from you two."

Harry frowned, too. "Oh, I see."

"I mean, I'm going to stay around. If you'll have me, but it might, you know, be dangerous for you too?"

"That's alright," said Harry, "it can't be any worse than what just happened, can it?" he laughed.

Ron found himself smiling. "No, it can't. I don't think they'll have a giant three-headed dog."

- SS -

Summer 1992

Percy Weasley

The night air was almost warm but not quite. Percy sighed and adjusted his grip on the stone railing as he stared up at the stars above the Astronomy Tower. The last traces of the sun's heat had long faded, leaving only the sharp, lingering bite of the Scottish breeze to curl against his skin, sending shivers up and down his arms.

Below him, the castle seemed peaceful, its towering silhouette cutting against the dark horizon. But he knew better. Inside those walls, a thousand students were still reveling in the chaos of the year's end. And there was probably a keg or two of butterbeer sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room. The first-years would be too excited to sleep, and the older students would already be reminiscing about the year gone by. He liked the tower best. There was no obligation to join in, no need to police whatever dubious celebration was surely unfolding in the common room below. It wasn't his shift tonight. Someone else could play the responsible party. For once, Percy just wanted the quiet.

The door behind him creaked open, and he turned. His eyes met Penny's, and he met her smile with one of his own.

"Enjoying the weather?" she asked, stepping forward to stand beside him alongside the rails.

"More like the quiet," he said back.

"Oh, you want me to stop asking you questions?"

"What? No, that's not what I meant at all!"

She laughed lightly. "I'm just joking, Percy. I know it's not what you meant. So, are you excited to go back home?"

He shrugged. "Not really. My house feels too small."

"I know what you mean," she nodded. "I can't imagine what it's like to have even more siblings than I do."

"It's not so bad, most of the time. Only when the twins are looking to cause trouble."

"They still aren't talking to your brother, Ron?"

Percy frowned. "I'm not sure, I don't think so. But, I think things have settled with our parents. At least for now, Dumbledore intervened on my brother's behalf."

"Wow," Penny blinked. "Dumbledore really did that?"

"Yeah… he's a good wizard."

"Or he knows that you guys deserved it," she offered. "You'll be a good wizard too one day."

He smiled at her. "And you'll be a brilliant witch… I mean, you already are."

"Will you write to me?" she asked. "Over the break?"

"Of course," Percy smiled. "I do have my own owl."

She laughed again, "Good, I think he'd miss me."

"I'll miss you too," Percy said. His cheeks flushed red as the words left his mouth, and he glanced away.

"Good, I was worried you wouldn't."

Percy glanced back at her, intending to say something clever to recover from his own awkwardness, but the words caught in his throat.

The stars reflected in Penny's eyes, tiny pinpricks of light against the deep brown, and for a moment, Percy could almost get lost in them. Everything else seemed to fade except for the two of them standing there, close enough that he could feel the warmth emanating from her body against the cold night air. He swallowed, suddenly acutely aware of just how near she was. Penny tilted her head slightly.

Before he could think, before he could breathe, he had closed the distance between them. It was tentative at first, the barest brush of his lips against hers, but then she leaned towards him. Percy felt his entire body melt at once, as if someone had exploded a firework inside his stomach.

When they finally parted, Penny's lips curled into a soft smile. "Well, that took you long enough."

Percy exhaled a quiet laugh, his face still warm. "I, uh…"

Penny just shook her head, amused and laced her fingers into his.