Remember Me - Chapters 7 & 8
Hi everyone,
I know its been waaay too long, but I have finally gotten around to posting some more of Remember Me , a fic I originally posted to CM.
I hope you all enjoy it -
Summary - Lost and in turmoil, two soulmates struggle with their lives. One wizard may be able to bring them together, but has the damage been done?
Pairing - R/Hr
Rating - R
Chapter Seven
It isn’t possible. It can’t be this easy. This had to be some kind of mirage, caused by lack of sleep, or dehydration.
Harry slowly raised his hands, and rubbed his eyes, as if afraid that sudden movement would take the image in front of him away.
But no, when he looked again the man was still there. Ron. He held his breath, and searched his friend’s face; for recognition, surprise, wonder, anything.
Beside Harry, Neville was stuck with awe. He was right. Ron was alive. It wasn’t hopeless. And if Ron was alive, then chances were that Hermione would be alive as well.
Neville swelled with the hope inside him.
How much does he remember? Neville wondered to himself. Can his memories be restored? Can Ron come back?
Don couldn’t move. These people in front of him - he knew them. Their connection with him was right in front of him and he couldn’t make it out. But this was it. If they knew him, they could help him. He might finally get some answers.
Finally, as if coming out of a trance, Harry slowly made his way over to Ron. He walked slowly at first, unsure how the man in front of him would react. Closer, he could see that it was indeed his best friend. A little older perhaps, a little broader, more tanned, and with a strange scar on his face, but it was Ron, without question.
He won’t know who you are. You have to take this slowly, his mind warned him. But instinct took over and by the time he came to Ron, he was running, grabbing him, and pulling him into a hug.
“You’re alive. Merlin, Ron! I can’t believe it. I never thought this was possible. We thought we had lost you forever! Ginny… your parents, your brothers! Ron, I can’t believe it’s really you!”
Don pulled away gently and looked into the face of this man. There were tears running down his face, no shame in them. His voice, cracked from emotion, was full of joy.
“Harry? Is your name Harry?” he asked slowly, remembering the name from a conversation with Tom a while back.
“You remember me?” the man who might be Harry asked in wonderment.
“How much do you remember Ron?” asked another voice, and Don slowly turned to the other man still standing beside the bush.
“Not much. It’s all vague, like half remembered dreams,” Don replied. “Ron? Is that my name?” he asked, looking again at Harry, noticing the lightning shaped scar on his forehead, and remembering it. “Who are you two? How do I know you? Where have you come from?” Don’s mind was full of swirling masses of fog, with nothing making sense.
“Ron Weasley, that’s your name. Is it familiar?” Harry asked, still holding onto Ron, afraid to let him go just yet.
“Ron Weasley,” Ron said slowly. He grinned. “It is familiar. That’s my name.”
Harry couldn’t stop smiling. He just couldn’t believe it. Ron hadn’t died. And if Ron was alive, then Hermione was probably alive as well. She had to be. To have his best friends back, to know that they were alive, it was unbelievable.
The guilt that had been weighing on him, the guilt of their sacrifice and the thought of being alive when he should be dead with them, all of it was gone. The warmth of hope and happiness spread throughout his body.
“Your family! Ginny - we have to tell her and the rest of them back home straight away.”
“My family?” Ron asked slowly. “I have a family? Where? How many? How long have I been gone? How come they didn’t came looking for me? How did I end up…” He could hardly keep up with all of the questions flashing through his brain, but Harry cut him off.
“Ron, I want to know where were you all this time, what you remember, everything! But not here, it’s a little open. Is there somewhere we can go and talk? There are things you need to know about your past.”
“Yeah, sure,” Ron said, although he was still a little bowled over by meeting someone from his past, someone who would have answers to all his questions. “I live a couple of fields this way. Hop in the truck, and I’ll drive”
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Sitting in Tom’s kitchen, listening to what Harry and Neville were telling him about his life, Ron was completely amazed. Yet, somehow, these fantastic stories about his life made a lot of sense and answered quite a few questions that had plagued him.
His name was Ron Weasley. He was the youngest son in a family of seven, with five older brothers and a younger sister. His parents were still alive as were five of his siblings.
There was nothing unusual or strange in any of that information. Then things got interesting. The reason he didn’t know how to use normal everyday things, like the microwave, and the television, the reason why he couldn’t drive, and found a lot of gadgets strange was because they were strange, at least to him. He never had a use for them. Ron Weasley was a wizard. He could do magic.
When Harry first mentioned it, Ron began to get a little nervous about things. He had just invited two men into Tom’s house, who claimed to know him, but of whom he knew very little. These two men then proceeded to talk about magic. Suddenly it didn’t seem like a good idea to be alone with them, and he wondered when Tom was going to be back from town.
But, as if sensing his unease and slight disbelief, Harry offered to show Ron what he could do. Still a little disbelieving, Ron watched as Harry stood by the table in the kitchen. “Accio kettle!” Harry called out, holding a long thin stick - a wand - in his hand. From across the room, the kettle levitated towards them. Harry directed it to the table, as Ron jumped up and back from it. He stared at the kettle in wonderment.
“Harry, I have a question. Is it possible for you, us, to disappear and reappear in different places?” Ron asked, needing an answer about that night he disappeared from the front of the truck.
“You mean like this?” Neville asked, before he turned on the spot. By the main door he vanished, and reappeared next to Ron. “It’s called Apparation,” he said as Ron gaped.
“That’s how we found you. You did that recently didn’t you? Without even knowing how to?”
“Yeah,” Ron started. “Brilliant. It is true then. You are telling the truth?” Ron couldn’t really believe it
“Well if you need any more proof, look at these,” Harry said as he produced pictures from somewhere in his robes, still photographs and moving ones. They ranged in time from when Ron was really young, about ten or eleven, until recently, probably taken only two years before. In most he was with Harry, Neville, or other boys all smiling and waving like crazy. Some had the same red hair as he did, and a photo of twins pulled funny faces at him.
Then he came across another one. It was of him, when he was in his late teens, and she was there. The girl with wild bushy hair, and the brown eyes that pierced into his very soul. She was real, not a figment of his imagination. And there he was in a photograph with his arms around her waist, standing behind her. Every now and then his picture self would bend and kiss her on the cheek. Ron could see the love in his eyes, and hers. He turned over the picture, and read the inscription on the back: ‘Hermione and me’ written in sloppy script. It was his writing.
Suddenly he was hit with a sense of foreboding. This girl, woman, Hermione, they were a couple in the picture. And they seemed to be in love. So if any one was going to come looking for him, it should be her. But there was no sign of her. They hadn’t even mentioned her.
He stood and looked out the window. Watching as the sun made its way west across the sky. He hadn’t realised so much time had passed, most of the day spent with questions.
“What happened to bring me here? Why can’t I remember? Hermione, where is she?”
He was afraid of the answer. What if she were dead and that was the reason he hurt, deep in his chest, every time he thought of her?
Neville gave Harry a quick glance, and Harry gave a small sigh.
“You might need to sit down for this. I haven’t even told you half the story yet.”
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Tom slowly made his way up the porch of the house, as the sun hit the horizon far into the west. He would have sat there and watched, but voices from the kitchen piqued his curiosity, and he made his way inside.
When Ron caught sight of Tom in the doorway he jumped up. “Tom, you are not going to believe this. These two fellas, they are my friends. They came looking for me.”
Tom looked at the two men before him. Both wore the same strange clothing that Don had worn the first time he saw him. One had dark hair and bright green eyes, weary eyes that had seen hardships in the past. These eyes were trained on Don, never straying far away, as if afraid that Don might vanish. Understandable, if there were friends.
The other was quieter, and again, Tom could see nothing but sincerity in his eyes and expression.
“Tom, I would like you to meet Harry Potter, and Neville Longbottom. And I … Well, my name is Ron Weasley. I don’t remember much yet, but everything they say is familiar, like a story from long ago.”
“Harry, eh? I heard him mutter that a couple of times in his sleep. Ron Weasley. Good solid name.”
Tom chatted away for a while, listening while Harry told Ron more about his past. But the conversation was strained, as if he was leaving out a great deal of the stories, and Tom decided to go out to the porch, and give them some privacy.
Tom sat on the porch, staring out at the night sky, thinking. To be honest, he was worried. Out of nowhere, these two ‘friends’ had come looking for Don… Ron. They had no car to be seen, and they looked decidedly shifty while in his presence.
Tom kept going back to what the doctor told him the first time he bought Ron to see him. “I think that the amnesia could be trauma related. And the scars on his back indicate repeated trauma, like torture of sorts. His subconscious is keeping something from him, something it’s not ready to deal with.”
If this were true, Tom worried about what caused the scars, the torture and the trauma. Could Ron’s so-called friends have something to do with it?
The door opened slowly, and Neville poked his head out.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked, indicating the space on the porch.
“Please yourself,” Tom replied, equally annoyed at the interruption, yet pleased at the chance to question one of these strangers.
“I, well all of us, Ron’s family and friends I mean, want to thank you for taking care of him. He told us about you helping him, giving him a place to live and a job. We are eternally grateful.”
“He was in bad shape when I found him,” Tom said slowly, not taking his eyes off the darkened sky. “It’s been over two years since he came here. Why didn’t you come looking for him? How did he end up here in the first place? And those scars, the ones all over his body, how did he come to have them? What sort of friends are you?”
“We thought he was dead,” Neville said, with sadness in his voice. “I can’t tell you everything, it’s not my place. It’s up to Ron. But what you have to believe is that we care very much for him. It nearly broke Harry, thinking that his best friend was dead. Ron’s family hasn’t been the same, either. To have Ron back, well, it’s the most important thing in the world. I know you are worried about us just showing up here, and if you need to ask Ron questions, then do so, but understand that we would never do anything to hurt him. We are beyond happy at the thought of having him back in our lives.”
Neville said all this in a quiet yet passionate voice, and Tom believed him. There was something about this man, Tom mused to himself. He was a good man, just like Ron. I only hope, he thought quietly to himself, remembering the nightmares that plagued Ron’s sleep, that when Ron regains all his memories, it’s not too much for him to bear.
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Even though Harry and Ron stayed up late into the night, talking about all the things that they had done in the past, Ron still woke as dawn arrived.
He quietly put on his clothes, and made his way downstairs, out into the yard. He went out, and sat on the fence overlooking the western paddock, feeling the heat of the morning sun on his back.
It’s unbelievable, he thought to himself. The crazy things that he had been shown and told yesterday made sense to him. Finally the pieces of the puzzle were coming into focus. The memories were still vague and partially blank in most places, but as he spoke with Harry and Neville, he believed them more and more.
When Harry told him that he was married, to Ron’s own sister, a part of him wasn’t even surprised. It was like it was always meant to be, and it seemed fitting. Harry showed him pictures of his family, all redheads, and all looked so familiar to him.
It was late, well into the early hours, when Harry bought up the subject that Ron had been thinking about since he realized the two strangers knew him.
“Will you come home Ron? Back to England? Your parents, all your family… Well, they need you. And I think it might help you, to remember some more of your past.”
Ron sat in silence for a moment. Part of him was terrified. These people, they were expecting the old Ron. But he didn’t feel like the Ron in Harry’s stories. He wasn’t the same person, but without his memories. Could he go there?
I decided not long ago that I needed to remember my past. I need to find out everything. I need to remember, and I can’t do that here.
“When do we leave?” he asked, and watched as Harry grinned widely.
They had eventually fallen into beds, but Ron couldn’t rest, thoughts racing through his mind all night.
Is this possible? They can’t be having me on. I remember parts of their stories. They have to be telling the truth. This means that I have a family, a large one. All waiting for me to come back to them, and I can’t even remember all their names.
And Hermione! She’s real. And she is alone in America somewhere. We have to find her. Neville thinks that the spell might be reversed if Hermione and I come together. That seeing each other might break the curse.
But can I leave here? Am I going to be able to pick up the threads of my life in England?
His mind was still racing, thinking about all the events from the night before, when he realised he wasn’t alone.
“Gonna be a hot one, I reckon,” Tom said, squinting at the slowly rising sun.
“I don’t doubt that at all, same as every other day,” Ron replied, watching the sheep in the far paddock grazing on the sparse dry grass.
“You’ll be heading home with your friends?” Tom asked, glancing at Ron.
“I think I have to. They triggered some vague memories. If I see more of my home and my family, then I might regain the rest of it,” Ron said, wishing he could express his gratitude to Tom, who had taken him in and treated him like a son for so long.
“Well, you know that you are always welcome back here,” Tom said, wishing he could tell Ron that he considered him family, and that he would always be there if he was needed, especially if his past turned out to be too painful.
“I know,” Ron replied, smiling broadly. “I will come back Tom, of that I’m sure. But I need to figure out my life first. I want to thank you--”
“No need,” Tom cut him off. They stood for a moment, neither breaking the comfortable silence between them. Finally, Tom cleared his throat. “Now, how about moving those sheep into the large paddock near Brannigan’s farm before you head home.”
“No problem, Boss,” Ron said, smiling at his friend. No further words were needed.
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Ron looked at the boot held out to him. His stomach was still a little queasy from the Side-Along Apparation with Harry to get from Tom’s farm to the Australian Ministry of Magic, and he raised an eyebrow in question.
“It’s a Portkey. It’s like a transporter for Witches and Wizards. It’s normally something a Muggle won’t accidentally pick up. Now grab hold of it, or you will be left behind!”
Two days had passed since Neville and Harry had found him. The day before, Neville made the journey home, so he could tell Ginny the news. It was decided that she should tell the Weasleys in advance, instead of shocking them by arriving at the door with Ron in tow. Neville was also able to set up the Portkey for Ron and Harry for the trip home.
Ron grabbed hold of a bit of the boot, took one last look around the huge atrium of the Ministry and gave a whispered “goodbye” to the country that had been his home for two years, before he felt a hook grab him just at the naval.
He screamed in wonder and a little fear as he made the thirty second journey across the world, landing in a lump on top of Neville, who had come to meet them at the Ministry Apparation point.
“Welcome home Ron,” Harry said, smiling broadly, even if he did look a little green round the gills.
They quickly made their way up to Harry’s office away from the stares and pointing of the Ministry workers
Ron heard muffled clips of conversation “I thought he was dead!” “Voldemort killed him!” “Where’s he been hiding?” as Harry ushered him through the halls.
He got a déjà vu feeling as he made his way through the long corridors and hallways, and felt the scars on his arms and back tingle a little. He made a mental note to ask Harry about the scars later, and followed Harry and Neville into an office, with a plaque on it:
Harry Potter
Order of Merlin, First Class
Department of Mysteries
“The Department of Mysteries? What are we doing back here?”
“You remember this place?” Neville asked Ron excitedly, turning to face him.
“I don’t know. I think I do, but nothing specific, just that it played a part in my life.”
“You could say that,” Harry muttered, making his way round to his desk.
“I know you must be tired, and want to get home, but I thought you might like a breather for a while before we head to The Burrow.”
Ron, who had felt exactly like that, was glad Harry knew him so well, even if he himself couldn’t remember much about Harry, yet.
He dropped his tall frame into one of the chairs, and let out a big breath. He was in England. He was going to meet his family. They all thought he was dead, and now he was coming home. He was very nervous and he was worried that they might become upset or angry if he couldn’t remember them. Looking around the room he was surprised to see pictures hanging all over the walls and along shelves and desks.
Harry questioned Neville about how things were with his wife and the Weasleys. “She told them all together. Molly has been cooking non-stop since. They are just overjoyed at the thought of you being alive, Ron. There won’t be many there this evening. Just the main family. They thought it would be best.”
Ron nodded silently, his foot tapping nervously on the floor, and his eyes darting round the room, looking at all the photos lining the walls and shelves. Curiosity got the better of him, and he got up and began inspecting all the photos, while Harry and Neville discussed work stuff that was way over Ron’s head. There were pictures of Harry and Ginny, and the baby, James, named after Harry’s dad. Pictures from school days where Harry and the others are barely teens, and pictures taken more recently, of well grown red heads, every one of them smiling and waving. All of them his family, and all of them waiting for him to come home.
After a while he noticed the talking had died down, and he looked to see Neville and Harry by the fireplace.
“Time to be going, I think. Everyone is waiting for you,” Harry said quietly, and Ron watched as Neville showed him how to Floo.
“See you in a minute!” Neville called as he shouted “The Burrow!” and disappeared.
“You ready for this?” Harry asked, looking intently at Ron, who had turned deathly pale.
“I’m not sure I’m ready for this Harry. What if I can’t remember….?”
“Listen, I am not going to lie to you, it’s going to get messy. You Weasleys are an emotional bunch at the best of times. But tonight… Well, they have you back. But if you need to get out or it’s getting too much for you, just say “I like the Cannons” and I will get you out of there, okay?”
“Thanks, Harry. What are the Cannons?”
Harry laughed loudly at the idea that Ron had forgotten his favourite Quidditch team, and pushed him into the fireplace.
“I’ll explain it to you later. Now do what Neville did, and I will see you in a minute.”
Ron stood in the fireplace, gathering his wits about him, and calming his mind.
“The Burrow!” he called clearly, and disappeared from Harry’s view.
“Please let him remember something,” Harry pleaded, as he gathered up some Floo powder for his turn.
Chapter Eight
Ginny sat on the couch for what seemed like hours. Neville had just told her that her brother, her favourite brother, was not dead. Far from it, he was well and happy. He had lost his memory, just as predicted, but was coming home. She let out a gleeful squeal, trying not to wake the baby, and did a little dance around the room. Hugging Neville, she had thanked him again and again for his work to find her brother. He bade her good luck in telling the family, and made his way home, smiling at the smile she gave him, and Ginny knew that he felt he was looking at a glimpse of the old Ginny.
Ron was coming home. She was in shock, but before she could begin contacting family members, James let out a small cry from his crib. She quickly got him up and fed him, then used her wand to clear up the lunch, and finish the clothes that were washing. Once those tasks were finished, and James was happily playing at her feet, she got onto the Floo to call a meeting in The Burrow for that evening.
Molly was delighted that Ginny was coming to dinner, even if Harry couldn’t come as he was working on a ‘project’. Ginny promised to bring James, but told Molly it was a family discussion, and to only expect the boys. Molly seemed slightly puzzled, but ideas of what to prepare for dinner soon took precedence and she didn‘t seem to mind when Ginny went on to Floo other family members.
Bill and Fleur were happily married, with two children and living in France near Fleur’s parents. Bill was currently in England though, doing some work with the Ministry on Curse spells. She Flooed him and requested his presence that evening for dinner.
Charlie jumped at the chance to come home for a visit, but Ginny knew it probably had a lot to do with Molly’s cooking. He was very curious about why the family meeting was being called, but Ginny gave nothing away.
The twins were still working hard in the office when she finally got around to Flooing them. They agreed readily to dinner, and like their older brothers, quizzed her. She supposed they knew the glint in her eye meant that she was up to something, and were frustrated that they couldn’t figure out what.
Afterwards she Flooed Remus, Tonks and Minerva McGonagall at Hogwarts, and asked them to come that evening, after dinner. In response to their questions she merely told them that there was news she thought they should hear.
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Ginny was still slightly shocked and completely bursting with excitement when she made her way through the front door of The Burrow that evening. She didn’t know if it were right to leave her family in the dark for so long, but this was something she had to tell them face to face, not over the Floo.
The house was the same, the last few years not changing it much. Pictures lined the shelves with Weasley children and grandchildren everywhere, all smiling and waving out of their frames.
Although they all tried to be cheerful and happy in their daily lives, the losses of Ron and Percy had struck the family hard. Losing Percy just as he was finally being welcomed back into the fold was very hard for everyone, and the loss of the youngest Weasley son had severely aged Arthur and Molly. Ginny hoped they would be able to cope with the news.
Arthur, Molly, Charlie, Bill, George, Fred and herself had a family dinner together, Ginny evading questions about where Harry was or what news was so important that she needed to call a family meeting. She glanced more than once at the family clock. Since Ron’s ‘death’, his arrow had pointed to ‘Lost’ on the clock. They had all assumed it just meant that he was dead, but Ginny smiled to herself, knowing that soon it would be pointing to ‘Home’.
When dinner was over, and they had moved into the living room, they had some idle chatter about the wives and kids, as well as discussions about work. Soon Remus, Tonks and Minerva arrived, and Ginny was ready to begin. After checking that James was fast asleep in the cot in her old room, she came back downstairs.
She stood in the middle of the floor, searching for words to help explain. Taking a deep breath, she began. “First of all, I want you all to let me tell you this before you start yelling at me or asking me questions. It is true, and I need you to believe me…”
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It was over an hour later and there was complete silence in The Burrow. Very unusual when the clan was all gathered together, but there was an overall feeling of shock permeating the home.
Tears were streaming down Molly’s face and Arthur’s as well. Ginny knelt in front of them, as they held hands on the sofa.
“Is… Is it true, Ginny? Truly?” Molly asked in a shaking voice. “Merlin, I thought you were just going to tell us you were pregnant again. There was a glint in you eyes, a glow. But, Ronnie is alive…” She started sobbing again, leaning into her husband for support.
Ginny, herself emotional, nodded her head.
“Harry and Neville found him yesterday. Neville came back early today and told me the news. They are not sure exactly when they will be back in England, but definitely in the next couple of days. They need to arrange Portkeys.”
“I knew it,” Arthur said quietly. “I knew he couldn’t be dead. Not Ron. We will never be able to thank Neville enough. He is bringing this family back together, back to life.”
Suddenly Fred and George let out a whoop of joy, and began dancing round the room.
“He’s alive! He’s alive. Little Ronniekins is coming home!” they roared, as they made their way round the room.
“Three cheers for Neville! Pure genius,” Bill said from his perch on the edge of the sofa. Charlie was grinning broadly, wiping a stray tear from his eyes. Remus grabbed Tonks tightly as she cried noisy tears of joy, joined by a more dignified Minerva McGonagall.
“Ginny?” Molly asked quietly from the sofa, as she became more composed. “They have found Ron, but do they have any idea about Hermione? Does this mean she could be alive as well?” It was no secret that Molly was very fond of Hermione, even more in that last year, when Ron had revealed that Hermione and he were finally dating.
“We think so. She is most likely in the States, but they’re not sure how long it might take to find her. So they are going to bring Ron home, then decide on a plan of action. It was really a lucky fluke that they found Ron so easily. Finding Hermione might take a lot longer.”
“The poor dear, lost and alone in America. I hope they can find her soon. Right...” she said as she got up. “I have to start baking. I doubt if he’s been eating properly.”
Ginny smiled to herself at the change in her mother over the past hour. Ron’s ‘death’ had hit her hard. Her youngest son taken from her when he hadn’t really had a chance to live. She spent quite a lot of time in his room, left untouched since the last time he was in it, but cleaned and dusted every week.
Poking her head into the kitchen, Ginny watched her mum pull out pots, pans and cooking books, humming quietly to herself. Clearing her throat, she asked if any help was needed.
Molly just smiled and shook her head. “Ron’s lost his memories, but not for long. He will remember my cooking, that’s for certain!”
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Ginny spent hours with her family that night, answering endless questions about Neville’s research, and what Ron had been doing while away.
“To be honest, I don’t know that much. Neville told me a lot when he came to the house, but you know all that now. Neville did say that when told something about his past, he does have a vague recollection of it.”
“That’s a good sign,” Remus said, and Minerva agreed. “If he shows any sign of remembrance or dreams, then it is possible to restore what’s missing.”
“Neville said that he does have a curse scar on his face, along his cheek. It’s like Harry’s scar. He thinks that Hermione probably has one as well. It makes him surer than ever that getting the two of them together will restore their memories.”
Molly questioned Ginny about what Ron did and where he lived, and when Ginny told her what she knew Molly praised the man who had taken in her youngest son and looked after him.
It was late in the night when the family finally went to their beds, the smell of Molly’s cooking wafting through the house, smiles on their faces.
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The next evening, Ginny made her way back to The Burrow, James in tow. Harry, Neville and Ron were due in that evening, and everyone wanted to be there.
It had been decided that only the family would be there the first night. Ron was bound to be tired from the trip, and nervous about meeting everyone, so it was just to be just the family he was used to.
Molly met Ginny at the door. She bustled round the kitchen like a woman possessed. Ever since Ginny told her the news, she had become a different person. The house had been cleaned top to bottom and there was more food and baking lining the tables and counters than would be eaten in a month.
She was grinning madly, and completely flustered. Ginny firmly took her by the hand and led her to the sofa.
“Relax, Mum. It’s Ron. He grew up here, he’s not a guest, he’s family.”
“Gin’s right, Mum,” piped up George.
“Yeah, we are trying to get him to remember his past, right?” joined in Fred.
“That’s not gonna happen if the place is looking this tidy!” George added.
“It’s never looked this clean. It’s not going to help him!” Fred finished.
The twins laughed at their double act, and Ginny gave them a dirty look.
“I can’t help it,” Molly snapped. “My baby’s coming home!” She dissolved into tears, and pulled a hanky out of her sleeve. “I’m just so happy.”
The two older brothers came back in from the shed, where Arthur had been showing them his latest additions to his Muggle collection, and they all sat in uncomfortable and tense silence, all wishing the time would pass faster.
“What time did they say they would be here?” Molly asked for about the sixth time.
“About seven,” chimed the twins, when Ginny didn’t bother to reply.
“They had to get a Portkey from Wellington to London, then Floo here, so they might have been delayed,” Arthur said, trying to calm Molly, who was quietly shredding the latest copy of Witch Weekly.
The clock struck quarter past seven, and they were still sitting quietly, staring at the fireplace.
Suddenly, its bright warm flames changed to distinctive green flames. Everyone jumped up and crowded round the fireplace, craning their necks.
A flash, then out fell Neville.
“Graceful as ever Nev,” George observed, which caused the family to burst out laughing, the only way they could relieve some of the tension they all felt.
“Nice to see you too, George,” Neville replied, looking amused at knowing which twin was which, as Charlie helped him up and he dusted himself off.
“He’s coming next,” Neville added, before Molly could ask him anything. “I went first to show him how it’s done.”
The flames burst with another flash, and everyone’s attention was immediately drawn back to the fireplace.
Even though they were prepared for what was coming, when Ron stepped out of the fireplace, they still all gasped in shock. He was alive, and he was home.
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The sight that Harry was confronted with as he stumbled out of the fireplace was unusual. There was not a sound to be heard. Neville was silently dusting the last of the soot off himself, but that was about the only movement in the room.
All the Weasleys were standing stock still, staring at Ron. Ron, for his part, was glancing at each of his family members, as if willing his memory back. His gaze shifted till he alighted on Molly. She was standing beside Arthur, holding hands with him, and crying silent tears of joy.
Without warning, not even saying hello, Ron strode across the room and enveloped Molly in a fierce hug.
“Mum,” he whispered into her ear, and her tears increased.
“Oh Ron, Gods Ron, we thought we lost you,” she managed, holding onto him for dear life. The hug went on for minutes, and Harry marvelled at the tangible love being shown. When Ron turned from Molly, it was to hug his father. Both men held each other as if their lives depended on it, and Molly’s tears increased. Ron whispered something into his father’s ear, and Arthur’s smile increased. As Harry looked round, most of the Weasleys were crying silently, and smiling.
He hadn’t seen them this happy in a long time. His heart swelled, and he held the tears at bay, with difficulty. Picking out his wife’s head from the crowd he shared a silent and secret smile with her, and mouthed ‘I love you’, which was returned.
Arthur eventually let go of his youngest son, and Ron was launched at by Ginny. She was crying and smiling and nearly hugged the life out of him. Like he did with his parents, Ron whispered something into Ginny’s ear, and she burst out laughing, a sight delightful for Harry to behold.
Not to be outdone, the twins grabbed Ron, and pulled him to them, and the three of them ended up in a heap on the floor, as they grappled with each other, Ron joining in and giving as good as he got, just like he had in the past.
Shouts of “Ronniekins!” and “Merlin, he has a bit of strength now!” could be heard from the pile, as Bill and Charlie helped them up.
Charlie stood, looking at his little brother, and they embraced, and again Ron whispered something into his brother ear, causing him to grin. Finally Ron turned to Bill. He stood for a moment, looking at the scars across Bill’s handsome face, then mouthed ‘werewolf?’ Bill nodded, and Ron gave a wavy smile, hugging his oldest brother with emotion.
Harry now slowly realised what Ron had been doing, sharing bits of his past and showing each of his family that he remembered them. So like Ron, to put them at ease, Harry thought to himself. Molly was now brushing the soot from Ron’s clothes, and she kept touching him, like Harry had that first evening in Tom’s kitchen. Making sure he is really there.
There was a quiet cry and Harry realised that James had woken up. He quietly slipped out to check on him, as Molly, as if suddenly remembering that Neville was there, pulled him into a hug.
“You bought him back to us Neville. How can we ever repay you? You are a part of this family Neville, we owe you so much.”
Harry could hear others praising Neville as he made his way up the stairs. In his travel crib, James looked up at the ceiling of Ginny’s old room. Harry’s heart thudded loudly as it did every time he looked at his son. Love coursed through him and he swelled with it as he made his way over to him. Picking him up gently, he breathed in the smell of him. It was heavenly.
He made his way downstairs, safely carrying the bundle, where most of the Weasleys were still crying and talking above each other, each clamouring to talk to Ron, as they sat in the living room.
Ron seemed a little lost for words and overwhelmed, but when he spotted Harry at the door with James, he stood and made his way over to him.
“Is this…” he whispered, looking into the baby’s green eyes.
“Yes. Ron, I would like you to meet James, your nephew,” Harry said as he held out the baby to Ron. He carefully lifted him to his chest, and gazed in wonder.
“He is beautiful,” Ron said slowly, playing with James’ tiny fingers and toes. “Just perfect.” James was quiet, not making any fuss with the new face holding him. He was quite content to look Ron, with what Ron could only believe was a smile.
Ron held onto James until he started to fuss, and Ginny came over. “Right little man, time for your feed. Say goodbye to everyone for a while.” She made her way upstairs again, and Ron watched them leave.
Molly burst in then, ushering all of the family into the kitchen, where Ron saw more food then he had ever had before. Everyone sat round the table, and the feast began, with Ron smiling softly to himself. It felt right, being there. It felt like home.
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It was after ten, and the sky had long turned dark, the winter wind creeping across the land. Everyone was still at The Burrow. Most of them had other places to be, but they didn’t want to leave. They didn’t want to lose sight of Ron. This was like a dream, and they were afraid to break the spell. But eventually they began to disperse, going to their own families, their own homes, promising to have a proper meeting on Sunday, where Ron could meet the rest of the clan. More hugs and tears, and before long it was just Molly, Arthur, Harry, Ron and Ginny in the Burrow.
Ron yawned loudly, and Molly decided he needed to go to bed. “You must be exhausted Ronnie! Come on, I’ll show you to your room. It is just like you left it. Maybe that will trigger some more memories.” He said his goodnights to everyone and followed Molly.
They went upstairs, and Molly showed him into his room. “I left some sheets on the bed, and some blankets in case you get cold.” Ron eyed the pile of blankets and smiled at his mum. “The bathroom is…”
“Down the stairs and to the left. And the lock jams so I have to jiggle it.” Ron recited without even realising it.
“Oh, Ron!” Molly grabbed her son to her again. “You are getting it back aren’t you? I am so glad you are alive. That you have come back to us, that Neville and Harry found you!”
Ron kissed his mother on the cheek, and wished her goodnight, that he would see her in the morning. She took her time leaving, as if afraid to leave him for fear he would disappear, but soon Ron was alone in his bedroom.
For a moment he stood, just breathing in the smells around him, the whole feeling of the house engulfing him. This is right. I needed to come here.
He found some bed clothes, lovingly laid out by Molly, and he put them on. Getting into the too small bed, he felt a peace. He stared at the ceiling and thought.
When I first saw them I thought it would be too much. That I wouldn’t be the person they remember. That I wouldn’t remember them, but looking at each of them, something clicked. Its hard to comprehend. A flash, a sentence, something that links that person to my mind.
Mum - The first word I ever uttered. It seemed right that that is what I would say to her. My mum, loving, caring, and fiercely protective. That hug. It was like coming home, a warm blanket, soothing and comforting. How could I possibly not remember something so wonderful?
Dad- Whispering to him that I now know how that old lawnmower in the garage works. Showing him that I remember.
Ginny - Reciting ‘His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad’, even though I have no idea what it means. I have that line engraved on my memory.
Fred and George - The trouble makers. Jumping into the fray with them, now that is something I can remember.
Charlie- Magnificent Charlie and the Dragons. A story he used to tell me and Ginny when we were small. A magical story of fantastic beasts and their skilled trainer. Just calling him Magnificent Charlie was enough to show that he was remembered.
Bill - The scars that line his face. A werewolf did it. I don’t know how, why or when, but I know it hasn’t stopped Bill from living. He has a wife and a family. I’m glad for him.
So much has happened in such a short space of time. I need some time here, just to be. I need to remember more. I need… Her.
Hermione.