Chapter Text
It was their third year at Hogwarts, and though Harry and Sirius had finally been reunited, the events of the past few weeks weighed heavily on Ron. Pettigrew had been sent to Azkaban, and Harry and Hermione were being hailed for their bravery. But Ron? He was stuck in the hospital wing, nursing a broken leg that had put him out of the action. He couldn’t help but feel left out after everything he’d done, all he got was a visit from Madam Pomfrey and a handful of pitying glances.
He sighed, propped up in bed with nothing to do but think. Alone in the quiet of the hospital wing, his mind wandered aimlessly. But after a while, a thought struck him. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to pull him from his self-pity.
“Blimey… I’ve got it! I’ll go to the library. Find some powerful spells and potions to try,” Ron muttered to himself. “If I get stronger, maybe then they’ll recognize me for something other than my bad luck. I mean, Voldemort might be back, right?” He shivered at the thought, glancing nervously around the empty room as if the Dark Lord might appear at any moment. When he saw nothing, he let out a shaky breath of relief.
Ron slowly slipped out of his bed, wincing as his leg throbbed with pain. He tiptoed past the curtains that separated him from the other beds, making sure not to disturb Madam Pomfrey. It was well past curfew, and if he got caught sneaking around, he’d be in trouble for sure.
Moving as quietly as he could, Ron made his way through the darkened halls of Hogwarts, his leg aching with every step. When he reached the library, he quickly darted into the restricted section, checking to make sure no one was nearby. After grabbing a few thick, dusty books, he slipped back into the shadows, his heart pounding. The last thing he needed was to be caught now.
Back in the hospital wing, Ron carefully closed the door behind him, as quietly as possible. He glanced around once more, his nerves on edge, and then settled into his bed. It wasn’t much his pillow was already crowded with the large, heavy books but he had a plan now. His eyes scanned the pages of one of the books he’d borrowed, flicking through spells and potions that seemed complicated but doable.
“Seems easy enough…” Ron murmured, tracing a finger along the lines of text. He grabbed a random scrap of cloth from his bedside and shoved it under his pillow as a makeshift bookmark, determined to try his hand at brewing something powerful.
He limped back to the library, carefully replaced the books, then made his way slowly back to the hospital wing, hissing through his teeth with each painful step. Once back in his bed, he tried to sleep but the weight of the book made it hard to rest, the hard cover digging into his neck.
Time Skip
A few days later, Ron was finally discharged from the hospital wing, though a small limp still lingered in his step. He was glad to be out of there, but he couldn’t shake the frustration of not being properly recognized for all he had done. At night, after everyone else had gone to sleep, he quietly grabbed his leather notebook, ink, and a quill, then crept out of the dormitory. Harry was fast asleep just a few feet away, oblivious to Ron’s late-night plans.
Down the winding halls and into the library he went again, this time taking a small cauldron and gathering ingredients for the potion he’d researched. After sneaking into the boys’ bathroom, he set to work, mixing the ingredients carefully. He muttered to himself, jotting down every step in his notebook just in case. But when he accidentally added too much of one ingredient, panic gripped him, and before he could correct the mistake, the potion spilled, splashing across his clothes.
“Great” he groaned, frantically wiping the mess with random towels. He clutched his notebook to his chest, desperate to keep it clean, but just as he was trying to fix things, everything went wrong. The next thing he knew, he was standing in front of the Hogwarts Express.
Ron blinked, confused. He looked down at himself and realized with a jolt that he was… eleven again. His broken leg was healed, and the leather notebook was gone. He was clutching a small suitcase, the familiar Hogwarts platform around him.
Suddenly, a voice snapped him back to reality. “Oi, move out of the way, kid. You’re blocking the entrance!”
Ron stumbled back as someone pushed him into a crowded train car. He quickly glanced around for an empty seat, but the car was packed with students. Looking around for another option, he hesitated, then knocked on the door of an already occupied compartment.
“H-Hello, can I sit here? All the other carts are full…” he stammered.
The boy inside, who had been reading a book, looked at him up and down with an understanding expression before nodding. “Sure, you can sit here.”
Ron slid into the seat awkwardly, glancing at the boy who was still looking at him curiously.
“So, what’s your name?” the boy asked, closing his book and giving Ron his full attention.
Ron hesitated. He wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t sure how much to reveal. What if this boy was a pureblood? What if he knew the Weasleys and found out Ron was just a random kid who’d suddenly appeared on the train? Ron decided not to reveal his full name, instead, he just said Ron.
“Oh! Right, sorry. My name’s Ron,” he blurted, sweating a little under the boy’s piercing gaze.
The boy raised an eyebrow. “Tom Riddle,” he said, leaning back in his seat.
Ron froze, his heart skipping a beat. Tom Riddle. The name hit him like a ton of bricks. This was Voldemort. Ron quickly rolled up his left sleeve, starting to scratch at his arm, his nerves getting to him. The boy who would become the Dark Lord was sitting next to him, and Ron had no idea how to handle this. His mind raced as he tried not to show how freaked out he really was.