Chapter Text
If we meant to meet, why do we have to be set apart
1
Ron had known the name of Lord Vol... okay, You-Know-Who, ever since he was a little boy. The mere mention of the wizard---the mass murderer and the one behind the Wizarding World’s greatest tragedies---had sent shivers down his spine from the very first time he heard it.
You-Know-Who had held the Wizarding World in a grip of terror for over a decade. Ron remembered being five years old, sitting and listening to his father tell the tale. He had been trembling all over. Next to him was George, looking uncharacteristically solemn as he raised his hand to ask their father, "Then why is the world at peace again now?"
Oh, brilliant, George. Good question, Ron thought, nodding along eagerly.
"Because of the Boy Who Lived.. a boy named Harry Potter." his father answered, his voice filled with admiration.
That was the first time Ron ever heard the name of the boy who was the same age as him.
The name was much more ordinary than he’d expected. Ron had imagined something grander, something like Griffin-dodor-leber-to of the Fiery Plains, or something along those lines.
To be honest, Ron wasn't entirely sure what the world was like under the terrifying reign of You-Know-Who. He only knew that it must have been utterly horrific. His parents had once taken him to the graves of relatives who had perished in the war years ago. Ron laid down his flowers and bowed his head awkwardly. Meanwhile, Fred and George had already zoomed off to the other side of the cemetery, completely fearless. It was Ron who felt more somber than anyone; the weight of those losses made him so sad he could hardly eat.
Ron was a rather sensitive child. Even though he was Ginny’s older brother, he still considered himself one of the "little brothers." Growing up in a family where every older brother was exceptional, young Ron felt more sheltered and cared for than pressured.
"Don't be thick, Ron" Fred said, looking bored. "The world is at peace again. We have Mr. Harry Potter to thank for that."
"He’s the same age as me... he’s so amazing..." Ron muttered in response, his gaze drifting aimlessly, as if he could see Mr. Harry Potter, someone he didn't even know, waving back at him from the very spot he was staring at.
Because of that, Ron felt even more grateful toward this person named Harry Potter.
Grateful that he had made the world peace again.
Not long after that in his memory, Ron spent his days having fun at home before finally receiving his acceptance letter to Hogwarts. He was overjoyed, but equally anxious. He was terrified that he wouldn’t be sorted into Gryffindor. Fred and George kept saying things just to get on his nerves! Ron hated everyone; he hated this world!
He didn't want to be in Slytherin. The twins told him that the Slytherins would kick him out to sleep outside. Ron didn't want to sleep with the garden gnomes!
"Shut up! Which house I end up in is my business!" Ron snatching Scabbers up and holding him in a huff.
Well, He didn’t need his older brothers anymore, he needed his rat!
After finishing the pointless argument with the twins, Ron stomped off to find a compartment to sit in. That was when he encountered a black-haired boy sitting stiffly inside the Hogwarts Express.
At that moment, Ron had no idea who the boy was. The small face behind those glasses looked so nervous that Ron wondered why he was so incredibly tense. For a split second, he even felt like comforting him,telling him not to worry, that everyone needs a friend, and that he could even come sleep in the garden with him! They wouldn't be lonely, they’d have the gnomes for company!
Before his thoughts could get any more ridiculous, Ron cleared his throat and asked if anyone was sitting there. The boy said no, sounding very polite, far more polite than he probably needed to be.
Then, Fred and George finally showed up. That was when Ron began to suspect... could this boy really be the Boy Who Lived?!
Looking back, Ron felt he had been quite rude. How could he just stare at the boy as if he were some kind of rare creature? He pretended to look away and wanted to slap himself for asking such a stupid question because no one would ever want to remember anything related to You-Know-Who anyway. Ron, you’re hopeless!!
The hero Ron used to dream about and stare aimlessly into the distance for had turned out to be a rather scruffy-looking boy. But Ron didn’t think it was bad at all, especially when the boy offered him sweets from the trolley.
Well done, Hero. Share your food with the poor.
. . .
Ron sat there, using the quiet moments to occasionally glance at the boy, nodding silently to his own thoughts. Well, that boy... he was such a worry. Even when sitting still, he seems like he could get lost at any moment.
..If they ever had a chance to be friends, Ron swore he would be a great friend to this boy! No matter if he was the Boy Who Lived or anyone else, Ron decided.
just see him as a friend.
.
.
.
And then, the two of them really did become friends.
Actually, it wasn't just the two of them; it was three. Ron included Hermione Granger in that count. Hermione was a girl from the Muggle world with thick brown hair and beautiful brown eyes. She grew more lovely as she got older, and she was smarter than anything, even if she could be a bit naggy and pessimistic at times. Hermione had truly saved his life countless times. Without her, Ron thought he would have ended up as fertilizer a long time ago. Merlin, how could someone be that brilliant and cute at the same time?
The three of them were best friends, They are the kindest people in the world to each other. They had been through thick and thin together more times than he could count. Ron always felt a deep love for both of his friends.
. . .
As for Harry... he was just as polite and gentle as the first day they met. Harry was a good person who hated being the center of attention, though you can’t really expect much of that when you’re known as the Boy Who Lived---you silly git. Harry had grown much taller than before, with messy black hair and green eyes that Ron didn't want to gossip about, but someone once said they looked like "pickled toad." That definitely wasn't a compliment! Personally, Ron thought Harry's eyes were quite a beautiful color; they reminded him of pine trees or a deep forest.
People always praised Harry for being brave, kind, and helpful. Ron agreed, of course, but because he was always by his side, he also knew that Harry could be quite a blockhead sometimes. When problems piled up, Harry tended to think that nobody liked him and would get all mopey. When he was angry, he wouldn't speak to anyone, and if it got worse, he’d isolate himself, feeling sorry for himself and acting out. It was both pitiful and hilarious at the same time. Plus, Harry was so lonely---he’d often look at Ron’s family with such longing in his eyes. Seeing that always made Ron’s heart soften; Harry really nailed that "abandoned puppy" look.
Because of that, Ron often invited Harry to visit his home. Even though he used to be embarrassed that his house had nothing much to offer, Harry looked at everything with such excitement and joy that Ron often wondered what on earth those Muggles he lived with were really like...
In their fourth year, the complex of being the youngest brother with such "perfect" older siblings finally reared its ugly head. Ron felt a surge of jealousy when Harry’s name came out of the Goblet of Fire. He let all sorts of ridiculous thoughts get the better of him, leading to his refusal to speak to Harry. Ron knew he was being stupid and acting out, but he just wanted to be recognized for once.
He didn't realize what a complete and utter prat he had been until he saw Harry facing that dragon.
At that moment, all his negative feelings vanished. Only one thought remained: Harry could actually die. And Ron... Ron didn't want Harry to die. He just wanted his friend to be safe. That was when it hit him---it didn't matter if the rest of the world never noticed him. It didn't matter if he was never as great as his brothers. He just wanted this friend in his life, even if he had to be a background character forever.
Feeling nervous and consumed by guilt, Ron walked to the champions' tent. He saw his friend covered in wounds. Harry looked at him coldly.
"You've realized now, haven't you?" Harry said, his voice hard and genuinely angry. "Took you long enough."
For a split second, Ron felt like slamming his head against the ground right in front of Harry, he felt he deserved to have his brains dashed out and die right there for having such idiotic thoughts in the first place. With a face that looked ready to burst into tears, Ron prepared himself to drop to his knees and cling to Harry's legs to beg for forgiveness.
But then, those green eyes turned to look at Ron. He wasn't sure why, but he felt the harsh spark in Harry’s gaze soften. In a fraction of a second, Harry let out a quiet sigh, and his voice became twice as gentle.
"Forget it."
Ron wanted to cry. His eyes stung with heat, but all he could manage was the most pathetic-looking smile.
He must have looked ridiculous. His face must have been a total mess.
Harry chose to send back a weary yet relieved smile as he repeated himself.
"Yeah... just forget it."
The tone of his voice seeped deep into Ron’s heart.
"You two are truly so stupid!" Hermione’s voice rang out as she sobbed, tears streaming down her face.
Her small, warm arms reached out as she lunged to pull both of them into a tight embrace. Ron himself was on the verge of tears, but he could only pretend to ignore the droplets that were about to fall. He watched Hermione, who was wailing as she ran off in another direction, and felt a secret sense of gratitude toward her. Merlin, thanks for crying on my behalf, Herm.
"That was rubbish." Ron muttered, blinking back his tears and trying to act tough. He turned to Harry, who stood there still smiling. "Come on, Harry. The judges are about to give you your scores."
Whatever negative feelings Ron once had, he knew now that the love he felt for Harry had finally triumphed over them.
Love conquered everything.
It washed away the jealousy, and it washed away all the self-hatred Ron had ever carried.
Ron truly loved this friend. Harry was like a lifelong companion he could never part with. He was like an older brother whenever Ron acted without thinking, and yet, he was like a younger brother too, in those moments when Harry was the vulnerable one. Harry was family. Harry was everything.
Ron just wanted Harry to be safe.
And he would never let Harry feel lonely ever again.
.
.
.
From then on, the three of them went through so much together.
They fought, they struggled, they reconciled, and they laughed together.
Ron never once regretted meeting Harry and Hermione.
That was why he didn’t hesitate for a single second to volunteer to go along on the day Harry said he would journey to find and destroy the Horcruxes. He didn't even care that it meant risking his very life. All Ron knew was that he would never abandon his friend to face such a journey alone.
Harry looked at Ron with eyes that had softened. He reached out a hand to rest it on Ron’s head and pulled Hermione into an embrace. All of that was in place of a thank you that was far beyond words.
They almost died.
But they hadn't.
They fought.
But they always found their way back to one another.
And then, while they were in the middle of planning to snatch a Horcrux from the Ministry of Magic while staying at Grimmauld Place---which Kreacher had now cleaned until it was brand new (Ron couldn't believe how much a single locket could change a House-elf)---Harry brought up the Department of Mysteries again. It was the first time he had spoken of it since everything ended in their fifth year.
"Do you know what else is inside the Department of Mysteries?" Harry’s voice was deep and steady. Ron tried to think along, but all he could recall were the colors of the robes his father had mentioned. Because of that, Ron shifted his gaze toward Hermione, who was sitting cross-legged amidst a mountain of books.
"Are you suggesting there’s something else there, besides the glass orbs that hold the prophecies?" Hermione asked uncertainly, her brow furrowed in concentration. "I’m not entirely sure. It... well, it lives up to its name as the Department of Mysteries. I know there were Time-Turners, which we ended up breaking. It’s likely related to time, magical currents, and things of that nature. Why the sudden interest? Did you have another dream?"
"No, it’s just been weighing on my mind."
Ron looked back and forth between his two debating friends. Suddenly, he remembered something his father had once mentioned.
"My dad told me... that there's magic in the Department of Mysteries."
"Cheers, Ron. And here I was thinking there wasn't any. Brilliant, mate," Harry replied wearily. Ron felt like slamming Harry’s head against the floor just to vent his frustration. That’s not what I meant, for Merlin's sake!
"Let me finish first!" Ron snapped, glaring at him before continuing. "My dad said there’s ancient, long-lost magic kept in there. It’s about wizards who were 'exempted from fate. It’s... something related to tales even older than The Tales of Beedle the Bard. Back from a time when wizards still believed in God... or something like that. I can’t quite remember."
"Oh.. honestly! What you’re talking about is part of Prehistoric Magic. Why on earth didn't I take that subject? A time when wizards still believed in God? I’d give anything to know what that was like" Hermione cried out, sounding utterly regretful.
"I’ll take you to sign up for it once all of this is over." Harry replied soothingly, though Ron could read his expression well enough to know Harry was thinking, Is this really the time to be geeking out over schoolwork?
".. and I also vaguely remember that wizards who were exempted from fate usually had abilities that could alter history. But in the end, they never succeeded... or at least, that’s what the tale of Timmy, the Hopping Time-Wizard says."
"Well, of course!" Hermione snapped. "Ron, you ought to remember that wizards who meddle with time never come to a good end."
"I know that," Ron muttered under his breath. He didn't know why, but there was always a certain time each month when Hermione was even more short-tempered than usual.
why did she have to raise her voice at him? Ron was just telling a story...
Ron didn’t want to argue anymore, so he just curled up on the sofa and flipped through his book, searching for a spell that might actually be useful. He listened to Hermione and Harry’s conversation as his stomach gave a low growl. I'm so hungry... When will I get to eat?
. . .
"Are you planning something, Harry?"
"No, I’m just asking," Harry sighed. "I was just wondering what it would be like if we could have stopped Vol—"
"Harry, for heaven’s sake!!" Ron flinched, catching Harry rolling his eyes at him.
"Fine, fine. If it makes you that happy," Harry muttered. "I just thought about what would happen if we could have stopped You-Know-Who from ever tearing his soul into pieces in the first place."
"It’s impossible, Harry," the girl insisted, her voice firm and her expression deadly serious. "Even if there were a Time-Turner left, we couldn’t do that. What if you accidentally prevented yourself from being born? Have you ever heard of the Butterfly Effect? What if..."
"I know that! I just... you know we’re already risking our lives every day as it is. It would be worth it if I died to stop Vol—"
"HARRY!!" Ron was actually getting angry now. Every time he heard that name, he felt as if bad luck was looming over him. He raised his book and whacked Harry with it.
"Ow! Blimey, Ron! What’s your problem?" Harry grumbled before finally giving in and changing his words. "I think I’d be okay with dying or disappearing if it meant You-Know-Who never rose to this much power."
Clearly, those words struck a chord with Hermione. Her eyes began to brim with tears. "Don’t say that. We couldn't bear it if anything happened to you."
"Harry," Ron said, his voice uncharacteristically stern. He scrambled up and went over to Hermione, squeezing her shoulder gently as he struggled to find the right words. Ron knew they were all stressed beyond belief lately, and he didn't want things to get even heavier. "Harry, we know how much this matters to you. It matters just as much to us, but we can’t afford to lose anyone. And... Hermione is right. We shouldn't mess with time."
"But—"
"The point is, we don't even know what's hidden in the Department of Mysteries," Ron emphasized. "It’s just stories and rumors. We have no idea if what you’re thinking is even possible, or if it would be worth it. Even among witches and wizards, the idea of meddling with time is incredibly dangerous. Let it go, Harry."
Harry’s shoulders went rigid, the way they always did when he felt frustrated, before he finally let out a long sigh.
"Sorry. I think I’m just too stressed."
"Yeah, maybe just a bit. I mean, it’s only a bloodthirsty murderer hunting you down out there, why on earth would you be stressed?" Ron teased. He looked at his friend’s gloomy face and a small smile spread across his lips. "Don't go thinking about risking your life, mate. We’re already risking enough as it is."
Ron was just as stressed. His entire family was in the Order, still going to work at the Ministry even though the Death Eaters had already taken control.
Ron was terrified to the core that he might hear a family member's name on the radio. He lived in fear that a salvaged newspaper might carry the news of someone being murdered.
Ron knew he had been a bit of a brat lately because of his anxiety, but he really hated hearing Harry talk about throwing his life away.
"Yes, Ron is right," Hermione said, having regained her composure, though her voice was still thick with emotion. "It's not worth meddling with time. Whatever you're thinking, Harry, please don't do it."
"I know. I understand what you both are saying. But just..." Harry's green eyes hardened, flashing with a fractured spark that no seventeen-year-old should ever have in their eyes.
Sometimes Ron forgot that Harry had seen death with his own eyes.
"What would it be like... if we went back and made it so You-Know-Who never existed?"
Ron wasn't entirely sure what Harry really meant by that.
Did he mean preventing You-Know-Who from creating Horcruxes? Or simply stopping the darkness from taking root in the young Tom Riddle’s heart?
Or was it simply about making sure there was no boy named Tom Riddle in the first place?
Ron didn’t know what was going through Harry’s head.
It wasn't that Ron thought You-Know-Who deserved to live---the man was a cold-blooded murderer, plain and simple. And Ron knew that Harry might eventually have to kill the Dark Lord. Yet, he was shaken to hear it out loud---the possibility that Harry’s path might have to end with blood on his hands.
That friend of his...
That small, scruffy-looking boy who looked so startled, yet so kind.
By the time they got into the Ministry, Ron—under the effects of Polyjuice Potion—was losing his mind. Wait, I’m not Ron! I... I mean... I’m Mr. Cattermole, and I have to save my wife! Argh, no! I don't have a wife! I just mean it’s not fair if Mr. Cattermole can't save his wife because of me!! Well, anyway, Ron was in a complete frenzy.
"Why is it raining in this room, damn it!!" he shouted at the ceiling as rain poured down. What was he supposed to do? Find a raincoat or an umbrella for him? He was going to be too late to save his wife!
He remembered Hermione saying something earlier, a spell or something, but he couldn't quite remember it. Wait, I wrote it down!
"Finite Incustatem!!"
The rain seemed to slow down...
No, it didn't. He had misread his own notes.
"Finite Incammtatem!!"
Then the rain that was already falling turned into a downpour even heavier than before. Ron, now soaking wet like a drenched puppy, practically wanted to shriek. Enough already! I’ve been in this room for ages, hey!! He wrung the water out of his robes. It was a good thing he was still Cattermole, Ron looked exactly like a soggy dog with his hair dripping like this.
"Fine! If you want to rain, then rain! Go ahead! Do it to your heart's content!!" Ron yelled frantically at the ceiling.
And where were Harry and Hermione by now? Ron raised his arm to shield his face, starting to wonder if a rain this heavy would flood the room. Ugh, whatever! I’ll deal with it later. My wife... I mean, Mrs. Cattermole is in danger!!
"Where are you going, Cattermole?" someone called out to him. Ron’s heart nearly stopped. He turned around, trying to keep a stern face even though his heart was thumping like a drum kit.
"Going to find... er.. uh.."
"Going to find Ber—"
CRACK!! A bolt of lightning struck inside the room with a deafening boom. Both Ron and that idiot jumped out of their skins.
All right, this is my chance!
"Yes! I’m going to find that guy to come and fix it right now!!"
With that, Ron hurried his soaking wet self toward the lift. Luckily, it arrived instantly, saving him from further questioning. The doors slid open, and Ron rushed inside. Okay, I have to find my two friends, and fast!
.
.
Merlin’s beard, who is this?
A dark-haired man with a villainous face stood there, staring at him. Was Ron caught already?!
"H-hello," Ron stammered. Help, someone please help Ron...
"Ron! It’s me, Harry!!" That deep voice was more familiar to Ron than anyone else's.
Ron squinted, looking closely. Inside the eyes of that wicked-looking man was a gentle spark.
Ron’s heart, which had nearly flipped over, tumbled back into its rightful place. He made a face at his friend, looking like he was about to cry. "Ugh, Harry! For heaven’s sake, I forgot what you looked like. And why isn't Hermione with you?"
"She had to go down to the courtrooms with Umbridge. There was no way to refuse. And..."
The lift doors opened again. Ron held his breath, and then nearly stopped breathing altogether when he saw who walked in. It was his dad. His dad walked in with a witch Ron didn't recognize. Ron fought back the overwhelming wave of homesickness that rushed over him. He never realized just how happy he would be simply to see a family member's face. Ron practically wanted to whimper when his father spoke to him.
To be honest, at first, his dad gave Harry a look of pure loathing..
"Oh, hello, Reg," his dad said, sounding friendly in a way that made Ron want to shout out loud It's me ron. "Isn't your wife being interrogated today? Er---what’s happened to you? Why are you so wet?"
Ron started to lose his nerves. What if Dad catches me!
Ron might miss home, but this was no time to blow his cover. Sorry, Dad...
His wife is waiting!!
"Yaxley’s office is raining. I couldn’t stop it, so they sent me to find Bernie Pillsworth. I think that was his name..."
They talked for a bit longer before finally arriving at the courtrooms. Ron glanced back at his dad’s retreating figure, silently praying for his safety. From that point on, the atmosphere became incredibly tense. Ron hated this court---hated that they had to judge whether the wizards and witches in front of them had 'stolen' their magic. It was madness. He hated Umbridge, and he hated the Death Eaters. Then Harry stepped forward, and everything spiraled into chaos. Ron could barely keep up as he saw the silvery glow of Harry’s stag Patronus burst into the room.
To make matters worse, Ron found himself having to shield his wife.. no! he meant Mrs. Cattermole---while Harry shouted for the Muggle-borns to run for it. He looked at Harry’s back and then over at Hermione, wishing with all his might that no one would get hurt. The Death Eaters were already closing in from behind.
"Get away. Go abroad if you have to," Ron told Mrs. Cattermole, feeling that the Polyjuice Potion was beginning to wear off. He sprinted after Harry and Hermione, who were dashing into an open lift just ahead. At least we got the Horcrux, Ron thought bitterly.
The lift moved, but it didn't open. Instead, it began to plummet further down.
"What's going on?!" Ron might not be the smartest, but he was sure the lift wasn't headed for the exit. He looked at his hands; the Polyjuice Potion had completely worn off now. His two friends were also returning to their true selves. Harry wasn't that man anymore. This meant if anyone saw them, they’d be caught in an instant.
"Harry, what floor did you press?!" Hermione’s face went pale as she felt the lift descending deeper and deeper.
"I.. I don't know. I thought I was going to the Atrium, to the fireplaces, but..."
The lift dropped with incredible speed until it came to a sudden, jarring halt with a loud BANG. The doors slid open.
In that second, the sight before them made it clear they had been here before. Ron swallowed hard, wanting to step back, but knowing the Death Eaters were waiting above. "For Merlin's sake, Harry.. you brought us to the Department of Mysteries. You... you swear to Merlin you didn't mean to do this!"
The Department of Mysteries—the room looked different now, which wasn't surprising. After all, they had practically trashed the place last time. Now it was a vast, pitch-black hall. Rows of crystal orbs stood high, though there were far fewer of them than before. It left enough space to see the many doors lined up ahead of them.
"I didn't mean to." Harry’s face had gone deathly pale. He stared at his hands, certain that he hadn't intended to come to this floor. "I... I might have thought about coming here, but I swear I didn't press the button for this level."
"It doesn't matter now. We need to find a way out. They’re probably right behind us." Hermione said, her voice sharp with reason. Ron stepped forward, so tense he could hear his own heartbeat thumping in his ears. It couldn't end like this. They had worked so hard to get the Horcrux; there had to be a way out.
"Should we just Apparate back? We’ve got the Horcrux already," Ron said, turning to his two friends. He couldn't hear a single sound in the Department of Mysteries---not even the sound of another lift that should have been following them. The silence was so absolute it was chilling.
"Look..." Hermione’s voice drifted out. She walked forward, her brown eyes trembling as she stared at a door on the far side of the hall. "Good heavens... I didn't think it actually existed..."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, before turning to look---and then he went completely silent.
"What's wrong with you two?" Ron snapped, his stress turning into irritability. He followed their gaze toward the path they were staring at. The moment he saw that door, Ron fell silent too. His mouth hung open as he stared at the black door.
The Time Chamber---a place of ancient magic, from an era when wizards still worshipped gods.
The legends of wizards chosen by the gods, granted the power to rewrite history itself.
The stories from those old fairytales...
Suddenly, the words Harry had spoken earlier echoed in Ron's ears: What would it be like... if we went back and made it so You-Know-Who never existed?
Ron’s heart gave a strange flutter at the memory of those words. He blinked at the sight before him, unable to believe his eyes. "We didn't see this last time..."
"I guess it's because we were running for our lives. Not surprising, really," Harry sighed. He stepped forward without a hint of hesitation. A tangible tension radiated from him, so thick that Hermione immediately grabbed his arm.
"Where are you going, Harry? We’ve already talked about this! It’s too dangerous!"
"Hermione, you see it, don't you? That's the Time Chamber. If what Ron said about wizards going back to change the past is true, then maybe I was meant to come here---to stop him," Harry replied quietly.
"We don't know how that room works, but don't you think there’s a reason we ended up here? Maybe Dumbledore planned all of this. Maybe he wanted us to enter the Ministry so..."
"So what! Harry, forget it! Dumbledore might have been a great wizard, but no one is greater than Time!" Hermione shook her head, remembering vividly the tragic endings she had read about in her textbooks.
No one had the right to meddle with time.
"Exactly. Come on, mate. Besides, what I heard was just a fairytale," Ron said, his face paler than ever. He reached out to catch Harry’s arm. "You know Dumbledore wanted us to destroy the Horcruxes. You remember, right? There was no plan for time travel or messing with ancient spells. And how do you know you won't die the moment you walk in? It could be a trap."
Harry’s green eyes remained hardened, yet they softened slightly when he saw the tears welling in Hermione's eyes.
"Harry, the Time Chamber is what maintains the stability of the time stream. Not every wizard can just go back. That fairytale is based on truth, but it’s not right. We don't even know what form that kind of past-travel takes."
"Then can we just take a look? I can’t get it out of my mind. If there’s really nothing there, we’ll come right back out."
Harry and Hermione locked eyes.
One pair pleaded with desperate concern, while the other burned with the desire to fix everything.
"... whatever you decide, do it quick, mate. I think those bloodthirsty Death Eaters are closing in on us." Ron interrupted. He didn't want to break the tension of their staring match, but he had a very bad feeling. His heart hadn't stopped racing since they stepped into this room.
"Fine. We'll look together. But after that, we Apparate back immediately." the girl said, her voice sharp.
"Thank you..."
At those words, Hermione's tense expression softened. She gave him a small, faint smile.
The three of them walked forward. Ron was the slowest of the group. His heart was thumping strangely as the door drew closer and closer. He didn't know why, but he felt a sudden, hollow ache in his chest. He turned to look at Harry and Hermione---Harry’s profile, tight with tension, and Hermione, gripping her wand so hard her knuckles were white. It was bizarre; suddenly, Ron felt as if he wouldn't see these two again for a very long time. What is wrong with me?
It felt like a goodbye.
.
.
"Take care of yourselves.." Ron blurted out, not even understanding why he said it.
"Thanks, mate. You too," Harry replied, assuming Ron was just telling them to be careful of whatever lay behind that door.
The door slid open, and the sight before them was a blinding white light. Ron flinched violently. A high-pitched, piercing sound rang in his ears, forcing him to clamp his hands over them. He could hear the ticking of a clock moving forward. It was mixed with screams, the sound of crowds rushing past, and the voice of a young boy crying.
The ticking echoed louder and louder.
It became so fast and frenzied that Ron couldn't hear anything else.
"…Ron! Ron!! What’s wrong with you!" Then, a sharp tug on his arm snapped him back to reality.
"Are you okay?!"
Ron blinked. The blinding white light faded away. Instead, he saw a massive, ancient golden clock standing in the Time Chamber. No light reached inside the room; it was quite dark, illuminated only by the light from the tip of Hermione’s wand.
"Huh... what? Why are you looking at me like that?" Ron didn't understand. What was that vision? What was going on?
"You looked like you were about to faint, or have a seizure... or something," Hermione said, looking at him with deep concern. Ron shook his head to insist he was fine. He didn't understand what had happened—maybe it was just a hallucination or some lingering curse triggered by their intrusion.
"But... there’s nothing here," Ron whispered.
The room was empty—a circular chamber that felt like a small tower. In the center stood nothing but the ancient golden clock, with only a second hand ticking forward. It glowed faintly against the dim light, but other than that, there was nothing special about it.
"So this is all there is to the Time Chamber..." Harry lit his wand and looked around, his eyes filled with a mix of confusion and disappointment. The walls stretched high above them. Harry looked up at the very top of the ceiling, which was shrouded in darkness. Ron followed his gaze, thinking the ceiling looked like the constellations they had studied in Divination.
. . .
"Homage to the One Beyond Time," Hermione muttered, frowning as she translated the ancient runes etched onto the top of the golden clock.
"Is that all it says?" Harry asked, feeling a surge of frustration at his own inability to read runes. "It looks much longer than that."
"Give me a moment. It’s... it’s an ancient dialect of runes." Hermione’s curiosity was piqued. She waved her wand, and Ron saw that the runic inscription was indeed very long. Ron frowned; that strange, hollow feeling was washing over him again. It was unsettling.
In that moment, Ron thought he heard someone singing.
A woman’s voice, singing a soft lullaby.
He glanced behind him, but saw nothing. He was surprised to see that both Harry and Hermione remained completely unfazed.
Can’t you two hear that? This place is creepy as hell.
"Homage to the One Beyond Time."
The hair on Ron’s arms stood on end. He thought he could hear voices whispering all around him now---a busy, muffled chatter, as if he were standing in the middle of a vast crowd.
"That which has happened, shall change. That which has changed, shall remain eternal."
Ron’s heart hammered against his ribs for no reason. He found himself gasping for air.
"Let it be granted to the one who is worthy."
As the sentence ended, the clock suddenly emitted a brilliant, pulsing glow as if in response. Hermione recoiled, her face turning pale.
"What... I... was it a spell? Don’t tell me the time-stream is activating... I was just reading it! They said it wouldn’t work unless it found someone suitable. This is..."
"We need to get out of this room, now!" Harry grabbed both Hermione’s and Ron’s hands. A terrible premonition had taken hold of him ever since he saw Ron nearly faint, and now Ron was deathly pale and silent. If Harry were the only one at risk, he wouldn't care, but he would never let anything happen to his friends.
"Ron...!"
Harry’s heart sank. When he reached out to grab Ron’s hand, his fingers met only empty air.
Intangible...
Harry couldn't touch him.
"Harry! Hermione...!" Ron cried out, terrified. He didn't understand anything. His head throbbed so painfully he was close to tears. The ticking of the clock roared in his ears as if it were right inside his skull. The light from the massive clock grew brighter and brighter. Ron tried to run toward his friends, but the distance between them seemed to stretch further away with every step.
"RON!!!" Hermione sprinted toward him, but she looked as though she were being shoved backward by an invisible force.
The entire room echoed with the words she had just read, repeated over and over---but they were being chanted by voices that were not her own.
That which has happened, shall change.
That which has changed, shall remain eternal.
•
|
Mom...
Mom...
Tom is doing something strange again. I’m not sure if we’re the right people to look after him.
No.
Tom, I told you not to lie!
Mom...
Billy's rabbit was killed. You know who he was fighting with yesterday.
That boy again?
Monster.
Mom...
Freak Freak! Freak!!!
I am not a freak.
Mom...
I am not a freak.
—And all of you will be sorry.
. . .
Suddenly, a searing pain shot through Harry’s head. He collapsed, the agony so intense it felt as though an invisible wall had been slammed between him and Ron. The ancient clock erupted into a golden brilliance so blinding he couldn't look at it directly. He could hear the ticking of the clock spinning backward, moving at a fast, erratic rhythm. Suddenly, Harry understood the voices he was hearing. It was the timeline of Voldemort’s upbringing. The Time Chamber was performing its duty.
Selecting the wizard who would be exempted from fate.
It wasn't Harry.
It wasn't Hermione.
—It was Ron.
"Ron, I know now! It's you! You’re the one who has to stop Voldemort in the past!!"
Harry screamed, his heart aching with the realization of the truth.
"Ron!! Listen to me!! Ron!" Hermione cried out, terrified by what she was seeing and hearing. She, too, heard the roaring tick of the clock. She could only watch as her friend’s body began to turn translucent, collapsing as he hunched over and clamped his hands over his ears, his face contorted in pain from the cacophony of voices. "Ron... you’ll be okay! You have to come back! Don’t forget! Come back to this year, nineteen ninety-seven! You have to make it back! We’ll finish our mission...! You must stay safe and come back to us!!"
"I’ll kill him! You have to come back, Ron! No matter what, you have to survive and come back!"
Never---Harry had never wanted Ron to face danger alone.
Harry had always thought it was his burden to carry, his destiny to bear.
So please, don't let anything happen to him.
Don't you dare die, Ron.
"ARGH!!!!"
Ron’s scream of agony tore through the air. Harry felt a sharper pain in his heart, knowing he was powerless to help his friend. The light from the clock was so fierce he couldn't keep his eyes open. He squeezed them shut against the stinging glare.
And when he opened them again...
Harry knew in that instant that Ron was no longer there.
The great clock had returned to its silent, still state.
The dial was motionless.
The hand that had been ticking for ages no longer moved.
"ARGHHHH!!"
Ron felt as if he was being hurled through the air by an immense force. His hands, which had been clamped over his ears, flew to cover his mouth instead---he was seconds away from throwing up. Merlin’s beard, be my witness! Everything around him was pitch black. Ron felt like he was actually dying.
The ticking of clock hands persisted, sounding as if hundreds, thousands of clocks had been brought right up to his ears.
"What the hell is this!" Ron cried out, tears streaming down his face from the searing pain in his head. He could feel his entire body spinning wildly in mid-air. He didn't understand a single thing about this. In the fairytale of Timmy the Time-Hopping Warlock, there was never a scene like this! Besides, that was a story about a hero being given a chance to fix the past---and he was no hero. So why the hell was it him who had been sent back?!
In that split second, color bled back into his surroundings. He thought he caught a glimpse of the blue sky.
Wait..
...The sky?
Suddenly, instead of floating in mid-air, Ron’s entire body plummeted toward the ground, surrendered to the laws of gravity. Ron’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he tried to scramble back toward the sky, but nothing could beat the Earth's gravitational pull.
"ARGHHHHHHHH!"
CRASH!!!
Ron slammed into a canvas awning jutting out from the front of a small building. He was so winded he couldn't even make a sound. While he was silently thanking God that he hadn't been impaled on something, his lanky frame rolled to one side, trying to find a way off the awning with the least amount of pain.
Naturally, God wasn't feeling that generous.
"ARGHH!!!" Ron shrieked again as his movement threw him off balance, sending him rolling toward the edge---which, of course, was exactly where the awning ended.
THUD!!!
Finally, Ron found himself lying flat on his back, staring up at the stars from the pavement, feeling like he’d been used as a Bludger. He lay there for a moment to collect his thoughts. Let's see... arm’s not broken, leg’s not broken, head’s not cracked. Okay, head’s intact. Thank the heavens, my intellect is still with me. Ugh, but it hurts like hell! What on earth is this all about?
He pushed himself up, reaching for his wand to heal his bruises. It was then he realized the wand in his trousers had snapped into two pieces.
The situation felt hauntingly familiar.
But Ron still felt the same urge to wail as he had back then. MY WAND!!!!
After regaining some semblance of sanity, Ron looked around at his surroundings, trying to figure out where he was and what year it could be. He sniffed, nearly crying from the sheer emotional toll of it all. Ugh, this place looks like some kind of community market.
;It's you! You’re the one who has to stop Voldemort in the past
Harry’s words echoed in Ron’s ears. His eyes widened in realization. Whatever was happening, he started to think that this must be the era when You-Know-Who was expanding his power. Ugh, but why me? Why was I the one sent back? And my wand is broken AGAIN!
What was Ron supposed to do here all alone? He felt like crying all over again.
What would happen to Harry and Hermione? Would they find a way out of the Ministry? Oh, Merlin... I’m so worried.
—▪︎—•—
He walked toward a more crowded area---no matter what shop it was that owned the awning he’d crashed into, Ron swore he’d come back and support them if he ever could. The shops looked familiar yet didn't quite match his memories. Wait, is this Diagon Alley? But why on earth was I sent to Diagon Alley?
"Excuse me, ma'am..." He called out to a plump witch passing by, hoping to ask what day and year it was.
"Hiss!!!"
Ron felt a pang in his chest. Why did she have to snarl at him like that?
"Thanks anyway..." All Ron could manage was a weak, awkward smile.
Ron stood there, paralyzed. He knew he should start doing something, but what? Bloody hell! He didn't know a soul in this era. For that matter, he didn't even know what era this was! He walked over to knock on the door of a bookstore that definitely wasn't Flourish and Blotts. What gives? The clerk told me that was the first bookstore in Diagon Alley. He lied to me!
"Excuse me, I wa—"
"We don't give change to beggars here, boy! If you want money, go get a job!" The ferocious bark from the massive shopkeeper made Ron retreat and shut the door with humble haste.
He caught a glimpse of his reflection in a window and realized he looked like a total wreck. He was still wearing Cattermole’s robes, which hung loosely off his frame. His hair was matted and flat, still damp from the magical rain in the Ministry, and his face was a mess---smeared with dirt and grime from his recent collision with the pavement. But still... he thought, there was no need to yell at me like that.
"Good heavens, what am I supposed to do?" Ron was truly on the verge of tears now.
Alone in the past, in an unknown era.
With a wand snapped in two.
By Merlin’s saggy left...
Ron? The one chosen to stop You-Know-Who?
.
.
.
Fine.
Someone just kill him now...
Shouldn't this be Harry’s job?