As he'd done every day since the visit to Privet Drive, Ron woke up early. He crept to the window, pushed it open, and surveyed the sun-washed fields. He stared for a while, making sure that no one stared back.

"Are you sure she isn't upset?" Harry asked.

"Who?"

"Your sister."

Ron gave a last glimpse out of the window, then walked back to his chest of drawers. "Did she look upset to you?"

"I didn't think so. She looked quite chuffed, to be honest."

Shocking.

The day before, Ginny turned eleven. Their mother prepared a mouth-watering dinner and a moist chocolate cake for the occasion. There were gifts and a bright atmosphere all day. Ginny was now Hogwarts age, and her first shopping trip was just around the corner.

No. Ginny was definitely not upset.

Ron pulled on a baggy old shirt, his ginger hair popping out of the neck hole. "Then what's the fuss about? You didn't even know it was her birthday. She wasn't expecting a gift."

Not like she wouldn't have fawned all over it if she got one.

Harry sighed. "I guess so, but— Are you sure? Maybe I should have given her something. She gave me a chocolate frog for mine, remember?"

Ron dismissed it with a shrug.

The Harry from his timeline hadn't given any presents to Ginny while at Hogwarts—not that Ron could remember. Harry hadn't even noticed her until her fifth year, and then the ruddy war had complicated things. Besides, if Ron's memory wasn't playing tricks on him, Harry had once asked if he should give her a present, and Ron had discouraged him. His younger self had insisted that Ginny was only his little sister, and not Harry's friend or anything.

Lucky that Ginny never found out.

Ron and Harry quickly dressed, chatting and planning their day. Not once was Dobby mentioned.

Less than a week had passed since Dobby appeared. At first, Harry was curious about the warning and house-elves, but Ron and the twins had convinced him it was all gibberish. It was best he believed Malfoy sent Dobby as a prank. If by any chance Dobby was revealed ahead of time, it could only bugger things over for Ron's plans. It would be dangerous for the elf too.

That didn't mean that Ron was comfortable not knowing where Dobby was, or ignoring what the blazes he was planning. That bleeding elf was too dogged on protecting Harry for his own good.

He can't get Harry in trouble with the Ministry, at least. Not like last time.

The Burrow was a magical household, and within its boundaries, the Trace wasn't tracked. There was no way Harry could breach the Restriction for Underage Magic while he was inside those walls—which only made Dobby's next move a complete mystery. Whatever he planned to do to keep Harry out of Hogwarts, Ron knew it would be something capable of driving him nuts.

Not like Dobby was the only one he needed to watch out for.

Ron glanced at the window, fighting the urge to look out again. He was just being paranoid. The American couldn't cross the Burrow's enchantments, and Ron had other things to worry about.

This was Ron's second time through second year, a completely different experience from his timeline; and even from last year, when he'd been mostly set on returning to his future. That was no longer the case. Nothing stopped Ron from changing time now. However, things weren't going to be easier because of it. How could they be when that bloody American was on the loose and that blasted diary was out there?

The future was a big fucking puzzle, and Ron didn't know if he could to solve it. If there was one thing he was sure of though, it was that this mess wouldn't end with Ginny lying unconscious in the Chamber of Secrets. Not in a million fucking years. If there was one future he had to change for the better this year, it was hers.

Ron paused, his hand on the doorknob. "Look, mate. If you really want to, you can pick something for Ginny at Diagon Alley. We'll be there next week."

"Oh, right. Umm, what does she like?"

"Quidditch," Ron answered at once.

A smile spread across Harry's face, surprised. "Brilliant"

"Nothing too expensive, or too flashy," Ron warned.

Harry agreed quickly and followed Ron downstairs, where they joined the rest of the family for breakfast. Ron's mother greeted them, handing the boys two identical envelopes of yellowish parchment.

Ron didn't bother opening his letter. He knew it contained only an obnoxious list of pricey textbooks—all written by Gilderoy Lockhart.

He snorted. He'd almost forgotten about that fraud. Even so, Lockhart could be a problem if Ron didn't watch out. The man could, after all, cast fairly dangerous memory charms.

"Did Errol arrive?" Ron asked eagerly.

It was of course a stupid question. He could see Errol perched on the sofa from where he was. The owl was still heaving from his long trip.

"It's from that girl again," his mother said, giving him Hermione's letter and a suspicious look. Fred smirked, nudging George. "I'll keep an eye on you. Your brothers say—"

"They're just teasing," Ron groaned, avoiding her eyes. Even knowing he was in his mid-twenties, he couldn't help but feel embarrassed.

"So you say, young man. But I've dealt with my fair share of Bill's admirers. I'd rather you not follow his footsteps in that regard, especially at such a tender age."

"Mum!"

The twins were still smirking when the steps of the staircase creaked again.

"Who are we talking about?" Ginny asked.

"Ronnie's girlfriend," George replied at once.

"Oh, Henrietta?"

"Hermione!" Ron shouted, exasperated, only to quickly add. "And she's not my girlfriend!"

Ginny's face lit up with amusement, and when Harry smiled at her, she beamed as if her birthday had come for a second day in a row.

Great. Now Ginny's taking the mickey on me too. Why not?

One undeniable change was the teasing. It hadn't been anywhere near this bad the first time around—not in second year. Ron had no idea how it could change things if Hermione heard them, but it wasn't something that made him lose sleep. Bigger things had changed already.

Ron's mother rubbed her forehead. "Just give Errol some time to recover. That poor owl is drained."

As if on cue, Errol let himself collapse on the sofa.

That dramatic ball of feathers… Pig wouldn't have been half as pouty.

Ron's face softened at the thought of Pig. Despite his past complaints, he missed the skittish owl. Could Pig be at a pet shop out there already? Considering how young he'd been when Ron first got him, it was more likely that Pig wasn't even born yet.

Percy walked down next, all prim and proper with a prefect badge gleaming on his sweater vest. Ron wasn't as riled up with his brother as he'd been when they had that big row, but he still frowned when he saw him arrive.

If he brings up Hermione too, I swear I'll mention Penelope Clearwater. Let's see how he likes that.

The name reminded Ron of his fight at the Ministry, where an Auror named Penelope Padgett had all but saved his sorry arse. He'd thought of Padgett several times since he'd arrived in the past, but had yet to see her at Hogwarts. Ron wondered if this was the year she started in school. He couldn't remember her from his first time at Hogwarts, but he hadn't always been the most observant of students, so there was that. He would recognise her now for sure.

Unfortunately, Penelope Padgett wasn't the only name that came to Ron from that night. There had been other names as well—like Garvan Ferrara or Aster Prince—names he'd been too stupid to share with Dumbledore.

The thought was brushed away when Percy took a seat at the table.

"So, what does it say?" Harry asked Ron, once he finished going through his school letter.

Ron smiled, rushing to unfold the parchment filled with Hermione's handwriting.

"Dear Ron, and Harry,

"I'm glad to hear that everything is all right and that Harry is at your house now, Ron. I was worried that something bad might've happened to him, what with the unanswered letters and all. You'll have to tell me all about it, but please consider using a different owl. I don't think this one can survive another trip.

"I myself am doing fine. As I keep telling you, there hasn't been anything strange happening here. I think that man may have left'" Ron read flatly, knowing his mother tensed at the mention of the American. "Anyway, I've been revising last year's schoolwork. I can't forget about what we've already learned now that a new term is coming,'" he continued, his smile returning. "I'm excited about getting our new books from Diagon Alley. Dad said Wednesday works great for us too. Can't wait to see you there!

"Let me know a time and place that's best to meet. Love from Hermione.'"

"Love from Hermione," George repeated, faking a mushy tone.

Ron threw a pea, which George dodged. The twins burst in laughter, but Ron decided to ignore them. Hermione's letter had put him in too much of a good mood to care. In her previous letter, the girl had suggested going to Diagon Alley on Tuesday, and Ron was relieved to read that she could be there on Wednesday instead.

As it happened, Ron wasn't free from juggling events in this new timeline. He'd made the conscious choice of altering time, but he still depended on this or that rubbish taking place. The most important case in his near future was Riddle's diary. It was a nightmarish object, but Ron had to lay his hands on it if he was to stop a lot of bad things from happening. To his blasted luck, he needed Lucius Malfoy for that, and also a chance meeting to repeat itself.

He wasn't hopeful. He'd learned Lockhart was signing books at Diagon Alley next Wednesday—hence his insistence to Hermione—and he'd also made sure his mother was well aware of it. But there was no guarantee the Malfoys would show up. What other option did he have though? He couldn't very well knock on their door and search for the diary himself, much less with the Underage Restriction pestering him. He had to try his luck at Diagon Alley first. If he didn't manage to get the diary then, he would have to find it once at Hogwarts.

You'll just wing it.

Ron huffed, pushing that effing voice away.

Breakfast was quick, like any other, except Ginny seemed less shy. She wasn't her old self, or as open as before Harry arrived, but she didn't seem that scared anymore. She even spoke to Harry when he asked her for the butter.

As soon as he was done, Ron stormed upstairs to write a response to Hermione. Thankfully, Harry offered Hedwig for the job, as a new delivery would've been the end of Errol. Curiously, Ron didn't notice signing the letter with "Love, Ron" until it was long gone. Something he didn't remember doing while at Hogwarts.

Hermione won't think anything of it. She signs her letters the same way after all.

Ron watched Hedwig grow smaller and smaller until she was lost in the horizon.

"What do you want to do?" he asked Harry.

As if on cue, the twins knocked on his door.

o0o0o

Weatherwise, it was a splendid day for Quidditch—warm, though not scorching hot. Gusts of air rustled the leaves under the shifting shade of cottony clouds. The gentle breeze was so refreshing that it was almost as if the orchard was screaming to be played at.

Casual Quidditch matches were a Weasley summer tradition, but unfortunately the orchard hadn't seen much action this year. With the American at large, they weren't supposed to get too close to the limits of the Burrow's enchantments. Their mother considered it a huge risk and—as much as he loved Quidditch—so did Ron.

That hadn't wrecked Fred's resolve. For weeks now, he'd begged and begged their mother for a chance to brush the dust off of their brooms. At first, there wasn't much success, but after the trip to the pond proved to be almost uneventful, she reluctantly gave them permission—followed by a thousand warnings to stay within the enchantments of course.

Ron thought it was a dead awful idea, but the more he argued, the more his arguments against Quidditch started to sound like madness. So he gave in and followed the twins outside.

If things come to that, I guess I could take my chances with that prick.

As boneheaded as it sounded, a part of Ron that wanted his rematch with the American to happen sooner rather than later. Perhaps if it did, and if by some twist of fate Ron came out on top, things would be back on track. He'd be able to focus on Voldemort, or on freeing Sirius. As many bleeding challenges as those tasks could bring, at least Ron knew what to expect from them.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're afraid of Quidditch," George said, handing Ron a broom.

Ron took it brusquely.

"Ronnie doesn't want to get crushed by his far-more-talented brothers. That's what this is all about," Fred teased.

"You're bonkers. Harry and I can take you."

Fred chuckled. "Doubtful. Harrykins can fly, but he's made the unwise choice of offering everyone a turn with that magnificent broom of his. No way you come out on top."

Maybe I can watch out for danger and still teach Fred a thing or two while I'm at it…

Before closing the shed, Ron spotted an old broom. He turned. "Wait. We should get Ginny."

"Ginny? What for?" asked George, raising an eyebrow.

"She likes Quidditch. She might be good at it."

"Does she even know how to fly?"

Ron shrugged, not meeting their eyes.

The twins exchanged a look. "Tell you what," Fred said, leaning on his broom. "Go ask her. If she's up for it, you can have her. Three on two, we don't mind. But one condition."

"What?"

"We get the first turn on the Nimbus 2000."

Ron didn't even flinch. "You're on."

It took some convincing to get Ginny to join. Nothing major though, as once Ron mentioned Harry being curious about her flying, Ginny pouted and dragged her feet to the orchard.

If the Ginny from my time saw me teasing her younger self, she would smack the grin right off my face… Not like that made it any less amusing.

The orchard wasn't a grand field. The whole area was half as long as the pitch at Hogwarts, and with an irregular shape at that. There were no Quidditch rings, or white lines delimiting the field. However, it was more than enough for a casual game.

Ron couldn't help but smile. As much as he would rather avoid the risk, he just couldn't be mad at Quidditch.

He kicked off and flew over the trees, Harry and Ginny beside him. Fred circled on Harry's broom, flirting too close to the edge of the enchantments.

"Let's stay a few yards closer to this side. You know what Mum said."

Fred rolled his eyes, but flew closer nonetheless. Then, he dashed to the centre of the paddock and started the game without further ado. Harry and Ginny couldn't stop him. They were caught by a surprise almost as big as the one Fred got when he fired their old patched ball and Ron caught it without a sweat.

"Is that the best you can do?" Ron taunted.

"Oy! Too early to brag, if you ask me."

Fred's next attempts were no better. He struggled to get past Ron. And once Ginny and Harry coordinated, As fast as he sped across the paddock, He struggled to get past Ron. And once Ginny and Harry found their footing, the game became more even.

Truth be told, Ron got lucky with a few of the saves. His hands were shorter and he wasn't as strong as he'd been in his older body, but by Merlin did he remember the gist of it. He knew where to position himself, and his reflexes were as good as ever. Playing Quidditch again was so exhilarating that he even stopped reminding people to stay within the boundaries.

Soon it was Ginny's turn to fly on Harry's broom. Her cheeks when she first grabbed the handle, but once in the air, George couldn't do much but trail behind her.

"Damn! Have you two been practising behind our backs?" Fred asked when they gathered for a break.

Ron shared a wide smile with Ginny. "Maybe it's you who's getting worse."

"Rubbish! We're in shape. I really thought we had this, even with the disadvantage."

George shook his head. "It pains me to admit it, Ronnie, but you saved a few good ones back there. I'd tell you to try out for the team if Wood wasn't such a tough one to crack."

"He should try out anyway, if only to scare Wood," Fred argued. "It'd be worth it just to see his face."

Ron dismissed the idea. He had more important things to sort out at Hogwarts than Quidditch—as sacrilegious as that sounded. Besides, wasn't trying out for the team like cheating? He'd be taking the spot of some other kid. And, no matter if Ron remembered him as the strong Puddlemere Keeper, Oliver Wood counted as a kid too.

"And you," George chipped in, causing Ginny to gasp. "Since when do you know how to use a broom?"

Ginny's cheeks showed a healthy flush as she stuck her tongue out. "It's none of your business."

The twins shook their heads in disapproval.

"You know what? We have to go back to teams of two," Fred admitted, "It's Harry's turn with the Nimbus. That'll be the final nail for us if we don't shake things up."

The team shuffling brought a few surprises. Not much changed when Harry sat out, but when it was Ron's turn on the bench, the twins snatched their first win—not Earth-shattering, since both Harry and Ginny were terrible Keepers.

The game went on for an hour or so, until a clumsy mechanical roar caught made them all look down. Ron's eyes widened when he saw the old Ford Anglia riding through the orchard with its turquoise shell. In the driver's seat was Fred, who was supposed to be the one on the bench. No one had seen him leave to fetch the old car.

"What the bloody hell is this?" Ron shouted as the car stopped and everyone flew down.

Fred stepped out with a grin. "This, my dear brother, is a car. Muggles use it to move around."

"I know what the hell it is, but why is it here? Dad would flip out if he knew we took it."

Maybe not quite, but still, this was a stupid idea.

Fred looked unfazed. "Relax, Percy the second," he said. "Watching you was boring, so I thought: 'You know what, Fred? Let's show our guest—that would be Harrykins here—a smashing show. Bet he doesn't see many flying cars in Surrey.'"

"It can fly?" Harry asked, baffled.

"Of course! Not as fast as your broom, mind you, but it's certainly more roomy," answered Fred, slapping the roof of the car. It didn't look like the car could handle the rough bump, but Ron knew it could endure much more than that. Much, much more.

Ron huffed. "It can fly, big deal, so does a dragon and you don't see me wobbling to get onto one, do you?"

"What's got your knickers in a twist today?" asked Fred. "This car spit fire, if that's your fear. In case you've forgotten, riding it is rather dull."

"Then why did you bring it out, if it's so bloody dull?"

Fred frowned.

George climbed into the passenger seat. Despite looking torn, Harry already had the door to the backseat open, waiting for Ron to approve so he could hop in.

Ron sighed, rubbing his forehead. "There's a reason why Dad set up the enchantments."

The reminder of the American weakened Fred's frown. He hadn't said much about it, but Ron remembered a hint of worry behind their jokes back when they first heard the story. "We're not stupid, Ronnie. I'll just drive a few laps around the Burrow—well within the limits. Harry will get to see what it's like, and Mum won't even know."

"Dunno… I guess there's no harm if we don't cross the limits, but— What if something goes wrong?"

"What can go wrong? I bet you nothing even remotely exciting is ever going to happen to this old car."

Ron almost laughed.

"I don't—"

"I want to go," Ginny announced. She stole a curious look at Harry, then tentatively passed him to climb into the back seat.

Before Ron could argue anything else, Fred shoved him into the car. "You'll thank me later."

Harry climbed in beside Ginny, and the car roared to life. With an uneven momentum, the old piece of junk stumbled into the air. It flew over the orchard, then circled so close to the Burrow that Ron couldn't argue about the enchantments' limits.

Perhaps I'm just too bloody paranoid.

"Oh, that's my room. I left the curtains open," Ginny said excitedly, as if she'd never seen her bedroom before.

The Ford Anglia went as high as Ron's room, and then some. The trip was comfortable, and they never flew too far away from the Burrow. When they landed back in the orchard, Fred gave Ron a look.

"Brilliant, wasn't it?" George asked, jumping out of the car.

Ron joined him outside. "Alright. I'll say it. It was actually quite fun."

Harry reached for the door, but it slammed shut, throwing him inside. George's and Ron's doors slammed too, leaving them gobsmacked on the ground as the car lifted.

"Fred! Stop this! It's not funny!"

A mop of red hair came out of the driver's window and Fred shouted, "It's not me! This blasted thing is moving by itself!"

The Ford Anglia soared over the trees, gaining speed. It flew beyond the Burrow's limits, carrying Harry, Ginny and Fred inside.

Crap.

Ron rushed to the paddock, kicking himself over the distraction. He grabbed the brooms and mounted the Nimbus 2000.

George stopped right next to him.

"See if you can keep up. Fly low, in case you need to catch someone. I'll get to the ruddy car," Ron said. George grabbed a broom as Ron picked up two more. "We're missing one."

"Bet it's Fred's. The git must've taken it when he went looking for the car."

"These two will have to do then."

Without wasting time, Ron kicked off, racing after the car. But catching it was harder than he thought.

Blimey! Since when does that old piece of junk fly this fast?

Ron pulled from the Nimbus' handle as the car went even higher up. He knew the broom could go faster, but he didn't have any Quidditch goggles, and the wind was harsh against his face. He also carried two extra brooms he didn't want to drop.

The trees below became smaller and smaller as the car reached the clouds. The air grew colder and thinner, the blustering wind made it harder to breathe. Ron pursued from a safe distance, adjusting to the height. He kept turning at all sides, half-expecting to find a pair of mismatched eyes.

That prick did this. It was a trap and I fell right into it like the biggest dolt there ever was.

The American didn't show his face, however. Ron only saw a vast greenery and barns that were too far below to distinguish. No Muggle would spot them, which was a small blessing. Ron doubted they were used to flying cars.

Ron felt light-headed, but he increased the speed, slowly gaining on the car.

Looking back, Ron saw the Burrow far behind. George trailed closer, near a group of ospreys. The car flew unperturbed up front, as at that time Ron and Harry flew it to Hogwarts. Ages ago.

How did I allow this to happen? It's like that fucking trap door all over again.

Ron gritted his teeth. He was from the future for fuck's sake, he could change time. Still, things rarely went his way. He'd just been juggling things, putting people in danger, letting them tag along.

Maybe that's where I've been getting it wrong.

Ron pushed forward, shielding his face from the wind. The Ford Anglia got closer, and Ron steered, looking for an opening. He went left, then right, then left again. However, every damned time the effing car turned in another direction.

That flying tin-can is avoiding me! What the fuck is controlling it?

When he looked past the car, Ron swore. The town of Ottery St Catchpole was barely a dim silhouette in the horizon, but growing sharper by the second.

Why would the American take us there? Why didn't he attack the moment we crossed the Burrow's limits? What would he gain by— ? Unless— No. Fuck… Dobby?

Ron had forgotten Dobby. But it made sense. Fred lost control inside the enchantments. The American couldn't breach them. It had to be Dobby.

That freaking elf.

What was Dobby even trying to do? Crash the car into town? It was mental. But again, Dobby wasn't the sanest when it came to keeping Harry out of Hogwarts. Hadn't he once released the bludger from hell to go after Harry?

A car crash though? Someone had to teach that barmy elf about magnitude!

Ron leaned forward, pushing harder. He didn't stop until he reached the car's rear, ducking behind the boot. The car cut through the wind, making it easier to breathe.

Through the rear window, Harry and Ginny banged, trying to get his attention. Their mouths moved, but Ron couldn't hear a hoot from them. Looking out, he saw the town closer, they'd be spotted soon. As if that wasn't enough, Ron knew the American could appear at any moment. He may not have taken them out of the enchantments, but he could well take advantage of Dobby's little trick.

He needed to hurry.

He lunged left, reaching for the door with his right hand. It was a terrible idea. One of the brooms he'd been carrying fell down, and Ron got a nasty look of all that air when he dove to stop the other one from slipping as well. The first broom fell so far that it turned into a dot in the distance. Ron never knew when it hit the ground.

Merlin's fucking beard tied to a hippogriff! That's too fucking high!

Ron gulped, forcing himself to focus. He tucked the remaining broom under his armpit, scrabbling to control the Nimbus with his left hand. Once steady, he gripped the car's handle with his right, not looking down.

"We can't get out!" Ginny cried through the open window.

"Move back!"

Ginny and Harry did as told. Ron pulled the handle. It wouldn't budge.

"It won't open! We told you!"

"I can see that now!" Ron shouted back, his red hair whipping violently with the wind. The car swayed, trying to get away from Ron's grip. He didn't have many options. "Stay there! You too, Fred!"

Ron let go of the handle for a second and took his wand out. "Reducto!"

The car's door blasted off from its hinges and the car recoiled from the strength of it, jerking Ron's broom. As the car swayed back, Ron dove in, swearing in relief as he landed in the back seat.

Fred blinked. "You have to try for the Quidditch team. That was some wicked control there."

Yeah, right. Control.

"Do you reckon we should exchange pointers now? Seems like a great time to talk about Quidditch," Ron blurted, then sighed. "Sure you can't turn this crap around?"

Fred started the car, turning the wheel hard. Nothing changed. Ron glanced out, seeing the tires turn, but the car went its own way.

"If you want to give it a shot, be my guest," Fred said, turning the car off.

"Bugger that. Take this. I dropped the other one," Ron shouted, passing him the broom he hadn't dropped. Then he gave Harry the Nimbus 2000.

"Wait, what about you?" Harry asked.

"Take my sister. I'll ride with Fred."

Ginny mumbled that she could ride alone, however, their number of brooms was quite limited. Harry nodded, and flew out with a deep red Ginny clinging to his waist.

Fred climbed to the back seat. He gave Ron a hard look. "You and I both know this ol' twig can't hold two people," he said, trying to give him the old broom back. "I'll stay."

No fucking way. The car wouldn't be hard to handle, but even if was, there was no universe where Ron would leave Fred. Not again.

"I have a better shot at controlling this junk."

"Oh, yeah? What will you do? The Reductor Curse?" Fred asked, narrowing his eyes. "I admit that I'm impressed. We barely started with that one last year. But unless you have something more under that tricky sleeve of yours, I don't think you can get out of this one by blowing the car to pieces."

Blimey! The spell— I didn't even think Doesn't bloody matter now anyways.

"Just get out, you git. George's right behind. You two can catch me if I fall. You're stronger. And Harry will be back once he's dropped Ginny off. He's faster, and has an even bigger chance, I reckon."

Fred crossed his arms. It didn't look as if he was leaving.

Ron's relationship with the twins was complicated. When he was younger, he'd always wished to be half as amazing and fun as they were, despite them bullying him just for the giggles. That was only the surface, though. Ron and George had grown way closer after the war, but even back in his childhood, he knew they'd stand by him against anything. Be it a young Draco Malfoy, or a crazy old flying car; they were there for him.

Not like he was putting them in danger because of it.

"Out!" Ron bellowed.

Before he could get a response, the car shook. The speed dropped drastically, and the bonnet leaned forward almost in slow motion. Then it started its descent.

What the— !

"Wind roared through the windows. Ron couldn't see straight, much less think straight, but in a rush of sanity, he shoved Fred out of the car.

"You'll thank me later!" Ron shouted through the tempestuous wind.

Fred tumbled out. Ron leaned out to make sure Fred had mounted the broom, but the car flipped on its side, and Ron fell out.

The world blurred. Ron plummeted at a maddening speed, all he saw were dashes of green and blue. He was still holding his wand for dear life, yet he couldn't decide on any spell until he knew which way was up.

Out of nowhere, someone grabbed him and the world stopped spinning. It was Fred. His hair whopped in the wind, but he looked otherwise euphoric at having reached Ron. The joy lasted about two seconds since—as they'd feared—that sorry excuse for a broom struggled under their weight. It slowed their descent somewhat, but they were still falling.

Fred pulled up with all his strength. But they weren't stopping. The broom handle bent.

"Let go!" Ron cried. "It'll crack!"

Before he could think, Ron felt something grab onto his shirt. They stopped mid-air, and Ron turned up to find Harry, smiling widely.

"Humphf…. Well… huff… About damn time," Ron joked, heaving.

"It's going to crash," Fred said.

Below, the Ford Anglia was reaching the end of the road, about to crash on a farm in the outskirts of town, where innocent people didn't expect raining cars.

Ron didn't waste a second thinking. He let go of Fred and pointed his wand downwards as he held onto Harry. "Wingardium Leviosa!"

A loud crack echoed when the car lost all of its momentum, stopping just feet away from hitting the ground. Ron lowered it gently by a barn.

He climbed onto Harry's broom. George finally caught up to them as they hovered down, and they all landed on the hill where Ginny was waiting.

It wasn't every day that Ron felt relieved to climb down from a broom.

I swear, if I didn't owe my life to that bleeding elf… What the fuck was Dobby thinking?!

Downhill, head-scratching Muggles surrounded the Ford Anglia, scratching their heads. Bringing it back to the Burrow would be a hassle, but they could hardly leave it behind.

"It's all my fault," Harry said, naturally. "We saw Dobby on our way down. I tried to stop whatever he was doing. When he saw me, he popped away and the car came down. Sorry, I wasn't expecting—"

"You saved my life, mate. You're the last person to blame here. Put that in that thick skull of yours." Ron blurted.

"Only after you saved us."

Fred dragged his feet heavily. He patted Ron's back, looking pale. "Oy! Don't discourage him, Ronnie. At least let me pretend for a moment that it's not me who Mum's going to murder."

"Right. About that… "

Ron went on to explain the story they needed to tell their mother. It involved minimising the height they'd been flying at, and turning the whole thing into a magical accident. Last thing they needed was to expose Dobby.

Fred and Harry disagreed, thinking Ron deserved recognition—a silly suggestion, as the flying feat was overblown and undeserving of any praise. They were still arguing when a group of people arrived at the scene of the crash. By the way they dressed and their prompt arrival, they couldn't be anything but Obliviators.

Perfect. Just bloody perfect.

Moments later their mother arrived, looking murderous and riding the broom Fred had left behind. She scolded them about leaving the Burrow's limits, and for how spare she'd been going, shifting between anger and relief with a maddening pace.

It didn't take her long to notice the Obliviators.

"What in Merlin's name happened here? Is that your father's car?" Ron's mother asked, her voice tight with fluster.

"Most of it," George replied, "There's a door about two miles from here."

Their mother blinked. "Well then, can you explain this as well?"

She pulled a letter from her pocket, her frown deepening. They gathered around, and by the end of the letter, Ron's face had drained of all color.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Weasley,

We have received intelligence that a Reductor Curse and a Levitation Charm were performed near the village of Ottery St Catchpole this afternoon at five minutes past four.

After serious analysis, we came to the conclusion that the caster of these spells is possibly one of your children. We have a team in place to confirm. As you should be aware, underage wizards are not permitted to perform magic outside school. Due to the closeness in time of these transgressions, we've been lenient and are considering this as a single infraction. However, may this be a warning that any further spellwork on the culprit's part may lead to expulsion from said school (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C).

We would also ask you to remember that any magical activity that risks notice by members of the non-magical community (Muggles, such as the ones living in the village of Ottery St Catchpole) is a serious offence under section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy. We received reports of Muggle sightings in your area, and your children appear to be involved.

Enjoy your holidays! Yours sincerely,

Mafalda Hopkirk

IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC OFFICE

Ministry of Magic

Well, what a rotten turn of events.

Having been an adult it was easy to forget that the Trace still applied to him. Inside the Burrow it didn't matter, but once outside its limits, Ron was subject to it as any other kid.

The Obliviators made their way to them. They found out that it was Ron who broke the Underage Restriction. The Ministry had already detected the Levitation Charm, so it wasn't hard to pass the whole thing as a spell gone rogue. After all, saying the car flew due to a haywire spell cast by an underage wizard, and not because someone had tampered with it, was the best approach.

It would avoid questions about Dobby at least.

Ron could almost read the Prophet's headlines: 'Stupid kid makes car fly. Breaks Underage Restriction, but stops short of breaking the Statute of Secrecy. Loses car's door in the process'.

Brilliant. Just the kind of news that will convince that wanker Croaker that I can't be relied on.

Ron couldn't help but think how ironic this whole situation was. He'd saved Harry from getting a Ministry warning, only to get one himself. At least Fate had a sense of humour, even if Ron thought himself was the joke.