Life as Ronald Weasley
Summary: Voldemort was defeated, but to which price? In an desperate attempt to save the lost lives, decided Ron to do it at least once right and scarified himself for his brother in all but blood.
Warnings: OOC!Ron&Harry! Poor grammar! No regular update! AU!
Pairings: Some planned but undecided, open for suggestions.
Chapter two: What now?
The first months were a confusing mess, there were only short moment where he was really conscious and it annoyed him. It was like torture, unable to grasp his thoughts, not knowing where he was or who held him.
Only when the first longer periods of awareness came, could he gather his thoughts.
It worked, the freaky ritual worked and he was back in the past, in the past living as Ron Weasley. Not only did he completely erased the existence of his friend, he too killed the younger version, the young soul that should have been living the life of Ron Weasley.
He was actually not sure what exactly happened but the young soul of his friend was death. Of that he was sure. He wished that he would have been born in his original body, as Harry Potter, but he had no time for grieving, he needed a plan.
The first problem was his age, he was young, too young, to change things at the moment.
It was frustrating, knowing that his other self lived now with the Dursleys, that Sirius rotted in Azkaban, that Voldemort was still alive, his Death Eather still roamed free around and he could do nothing.
So stupid, so utterly stupid of him, like always rushed he just in the situation without thinking of the consequences, without a solid plan.
He cursed in his head, he needed a plan, a plan to change fate.
[ 2 ]
Harry refrained from kicking Bill in the face as said boy picked him up. He had nothing against the oldest Weasley sibling, but the way he held him was rather clumsy.
"Don't tire mum and dad to much, will you?" The eleven year old spoke to his youngest brother.. "And look after your new baby sister will you? Because now you're not the youngest anymore" He spoke with a smile.
The oldest Weasley was saying his goodbyes to his family. He was now eleven and ready to leave for Hogwarts and Harry felt a pang of longing in his chest on that. Hogwarts was his beloved home and it hurt seeing Bill go and him being left behind.
The former Potter was surprised when he noticed that it weren't the four year old twins, who named Bill their favorite sibling, but five year old Percy, who was the saddest about the leave of his older brother.
The Percy Harry knew was usually very composed, so when he saw the big tears leaving the young face, tucked it at Harry's conscious, he would do everything possible to prevent the split of the family, it strengthened his resolve to protect them.
With a small smile watched he the big family, the guilt was still there, Ron wasn't forgotten, and Harry didn't believe that it will ever go away, but he will not get it in the way of his relationship with the Weasleys, that's something he promised his brother in all but blood.
[ 2 ]
Harry listened patiently to the blabber of his younger sister and the blonde haired girl.
Surprisingly, Luna was, as a three year old, a very active and happy child. Her short dirty blonde hair framed her face and made her cheeks puff up. Her skin was pale, almost unhealthy. Even as a child, her eyes seemed to bulge out of her head as she observed her surroundings with the inquisitiveness only a kid could show, but there was something in the eyes of the young child that was missing, Harry was just not sure what exactly.
On the other hand, Ginny had bright orange-red hair, laying in a wild mess at the top of her head. Her eyes were brown and a shade or two lighter than that of her future counterpart.
Harry felt a painful tug in his hearth.
Ginny, the women he once loved. This Ginny wasn't his Ginny, the Ginny he knew, and she would never be the one he knew. He was now her brother and the only thought he can allow himself is brotherly affection. Nothing more, nothing less.
The man in a child's body shook his head, the past was the past. He should never forget to move forwards.
After four years, Harry was still unable to change anything, but he decided to not sulk unnecessary, it will only waste time. No, he thought about his life, how he should live it.
Being in the background and nudging people in the right direction? Or taking a more active part? He was not sure, should he act like normal, or maybe make use of his knowledge and come over as some kind of genius?
What Harry decided from the beginning was that he will be a person, who others can lean on, rely, trust.
Should he try to become popular, or operate from the shadows? Then there was the other Harry. How should he act, maybe even use him for his gain?
He shook his head, no, no, no. He didn't want to become like Dumbledore, he didn't need to make it too complicated and lose sight of his goal. The destruction of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, without the notice of the muggles.
"Lon?" Ginny asked, bringing him out of his thoughts and Harry chuckled, the sound sounding strange from the mouth of a four year old. Little Ginny still had problems pronouncing words right.
"Ron, with a R." He answered, stressing the letter.
"Won-Won" A voice spoke and Harry had nearly a hearth attack as he turned to Luna.
"No, just no. "He spoke, voice grave."Then better Lon"
[ 2 ]
Harry lifted a hand to his face as he felt something poke his face. Sleepily, he blinked at nothing particular. Feeling something hairy at the side of his head, turned he around.
Abruptly, he jerked back.
A freaky spider was in his bed. He jumped out of the bed and landed with a muffled shout at the floor. Still not quiet awake, he stared at the big spider, that looked content on his bed.
The redhead turned his head as he heard giggling.
"Is ickle Ronniekins scared of a itsy bitsy spider?" Fred, he was sure it was Fred, taunted. George stood besides him, waggling the wand of their mother in his hand. Before Harry could do as much as glare, ran the two pranksters away, leaving their younger brother with a bump on his head and a spider on his bed.
Great, and this time he didn't even broke their toy broomstick like Ron.
[ 2 ]
Harry couldn't suppress the grind that threatened to split his face. It wasn't very mature of him, but oh well.
Just this once.
He grinned as Molly scolded the two boys for playing with her wand, and that it only served them right that they accidentally charmed themselves. Both boys sported slytherin-green hair and had their names written with bold letters on their forehead.
Sure, not very imaginative, but his options were limited and he knew how the twins hated it when people could tell them apart on the first glance.
Hopefully, that will be enough to discourage them from further pranks on him, but as he saw the twin glares directed at him, he knew that it will only encourage them more. Well, it was time to get his old attitude, from before the war, back. Pranks after the death of the Weasley twins just weren't the same.
[ 2 ]
The red-haired boy winced as the women before him began a new scolding rant. He just went to a walk and forgot to time. It wasn't even like that he walked far away, his body grew too fast exhausted for that.
Harry suppressed a sigh, he loved the Weasleys, he really did, but sometimes it just becomes to much and Harry felt overwhelmed by the big and rowdy family. It wasn't their fault, but Harry fells captivated and suffocated in the atmosphere of the family.
He needed a break.
Harry lifted his head and stared at the still ranting Molly. He always thought that there was a difference to how she threatened him as opposites to her children, even as she told him that he was part of the family. Now he saw it clearly.
That look that she now gave him, gave Ron, was never the same to the one she gave Harry Potter. Harry didn't doubt that Molly loved him, but not like her child, no, not like that. More like a women who took pity in a pathetic orphan. It was nice in the past when he hugged him, worried for him but now that he had the real loving look of a mother directed at him, he could tell the difference.
It left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Harry narrowed his eyes from where he sat on the couch. A happy Percy, very happy Percy, held a very familiar rat in his arms. The little dirty thing was half death. How he wished to go over there and strangle the traitor to death, but no, he needed him. He cursed in his head as Percy showed the thing to his mother, who promptly shrieked.
"Percival! What is that thing!" She demanded, lifting her hands to her hip and looking down at her son.
The young Percy held the rat protectively against his chest and Harry grimaced in disgust. If he just knew who exactly he protected.
"That's no thing, mom, it's a rat" He said calmly and with a patronizing tone, which Molly didn't notice or chose to ignore.
She stared sternly at him. "I see that. What I mean is why do you have it?"
The boy looked nervously down and shuffled unsure on his feet.
"I found him in the garden" He mumbled out. "He looked hungry and hurt!" He added fast when he noticed the disapproving frown on his mothers face. "I just wanted to help" He explained further looking up with hopeful eye to his mother.
Molly's face softened visibly and she sighed gently. After all this years, one would think you would get immune to the big, teary puppy eyes but they still get her every time.
"I understand and you can look after it for the time." She said and couldn't suppress the smile as Percy grinned brightly at her. "But we will speak with the rest of the family later on, especially your father" She added sterner.
Percy nodded enthusiastically. "Thank you!" He yelled as he ran to his room, the rat secure in his hand.
"But don't let it anywhere near Ginny!" She called after him in warning and went back to her work with a shake of her head. Not noticing the evil aura her youngest son was surrounded by.
[ 2 ]
The former boy who lived fingered the brown wand in his hand. It was Molly's -his mother's- wand. It was in the middle of the night and as the read haired women checked earlier after her son and found him sleeping peacefully in his bed. In the course of it, she didn't notice how her 'sleeping' son stole her wand.
Now Harry glared, from where he sat on the ground of his room, at the sleeping rat. Molly was afraid that the little thing would wake in the night and crawl in his or Ginny's bed so she transfigured a small cage for it. Which suited Harry perfectly.
He already wrote a letter, addressed to a certain women with the name Amelia Bones, now he just needed to send it to her. He wanted to transfiguring his cup to a owl and send it like that to the ministry, but his magic didn't want like he wanted.
It was somewhat stranger, he expected that he wouldn't be able to use his magic like before, he was still only five but that it fought against him? It was worrying, but maybe he was just too young for such complicated magic.
He shook his head, he needed to do it. He would have conjured some, but he was better at transfiguration. He raised his wand arm and concentrated on the cup, trying it again. Ignoring the niggling feeling at the back of his head, it wasn't important.
For the Harry who was stuck at the Dursleys, for Sirius who was stuck in Azkaban, for justice. The redhead flicked his wand with routine and stared expectantly as the cup slowly began to change form.
Drained, let he himself fall on his back, a exhausted 'huff' left his mouth. The young body wasn't used to such a drain of magic. He took a deep breath and sat up. He could relax later, carefully took the the letter and band it to the cage, which he in turn, band around the small barn owl's leg.
Carefully walking to the open window, he released the transfigured animal and watched with concerned eyes as it flew away. Dread setting in his stomach as a stray thought hit him, he had forgotten to stun the traitor for good. Hopefully he will not wake through the flight.
A bit late, and I'm not quiet satisfied with the chapter, but I have a rather stressful time and an unexpected writer block. I'm really sorry for the delay.
Critic, wishes, opinions, reviews are always welcomed with open arms.