"Dad, tell us about the war again!" Hugo piped up, his eyes wide with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Rose, perched on the arm of the worn armchair, nodded eagerly.
Ron sighed, a familiar weariness settling over him. He looked at his children, their bright, inquisitive faces, and knew he couldn't shield them forever. "Alright, alright," he chuckled, pulling them closer. "But this isn't a bedtime story, you know. It's… history. Our history. And it's important you understand."
He paused, gazing into the fire, the flames casting dancing shadows on the walls of the Burrow's living room. "It started… well, it started a long time ago. Before you two were even a twinkle in your mum's eye. It started with a train ride, and a boy with a lightning bolt scar…"
The train rattled, a rhythmic clatter against the backdrop of my nervous stomach. I’d polished Scabbers until his fur was practically gleaming, trying to look like I knew what I was doing, but inside, I was a mess. Every time someone walked past our compartment, I held my breath, hoping it wasn't anyone too… important. Then, he came. Harry Potter. He stood there, small and a bit lost, his eyes wide and green, and I felt a weird mix of awe and… pity? He was just a kid, after all. A kid who’d lived through something terrible.
“Are you… Harry Potter?” I blurted out, my voice cracking slightly. Smooth, Ron, real smooth. He looked at me, a flicker of something in his eyes, and I knew he was just as clueless as I was. That was… comforting. We talked about Quidditch, about his life with Muggles, and I felt a strange sense of… connection. It wasn't just the fame; there was something else, something… genuine.
Then, Hermione Granger. She barged in, all bushy hair and sharp questions. I hated her instantly. “Have you tried turning him yellow?” she asked, waving her wand like she was some kind of expert. I wanted to tell her to mind her own business, but Harry seemed… interested. He was always interested in learning. I had to admit, she fixed his glasses. And then she left, and I felt a weird mix of relief and… something else. Something like, maybe she wasn’t completely terrible.
The Sorting Ceremony was a blur of names and nervous whispers. When the Sorting Hat touched my head, it was like it could see right through me. “Another Weasley, eh?” it rumbled. “Brave, loyal, but with a lot to prove…” I held my breath, praying it wouldn’t send me to Slytherin. “GRYFFINDOR!” The roar of the Gryffindor table was like a tidal wave, washing away all my worries.
The feast was a sensory overload. Roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, treacle tart… it was like a dream. But even more mesmerizing was watching Harry. He looked around the Great Hall, his eyes wide with wonder, like he was seeing magic for the first time. I realized then, he was just as amazed by it all as I was.
Flying lessons were a disaster. I was terrible. But Harry, he was a natural. He soared through the air, like he was born to fly. And then, Malfoy. That git. He had to ruin everything. When Neville fell, I was terrified. But Harry… he caught the Remembrall, defying gravity. It was like watching a hero in a story.
The troll in the girls’ bathroom… that was the moment everything changed. I was terrified. My wand was shaking so badly I could barely hold it. But we went in. We faced it. Together. And when we saved Hermione, when we stood there, covered in troll snot, I knew. We were a team. A real team.
The journey to the Philosopher’s Stone was like something out of a crazy dream. Fluffy’s teeth, the Devil’s Snare, the flying keys… each challenge was more insane than the last. And the chess game… I still have nightmares about it. I knew I had to sacrifice myself. I had to do something. For Harry. For Hermione. For us. I felt the fear, cold and sharp, but I pushed it down. And when I woke up in the hospital wing, and they told us we’d won, it was like a weight had been lifted.
That first year wasn’t just about magic and adventures. It was about finding my place, finding my family. Harry and Hermione weren’t just the famous boy and the clever girl anymore. They were my best mates. My family. And I’d do anything for them. Even face a giant chess game, or a troll, or whatever else the wizarding world threw at us.
"Dobby," I muttered, my voice barely a whisper. That house-elf, with his big, bat-like ears and his constant warnings, was a right pain. But looking back, he was right. Something was definitely off. The way he’d tried to stop Harry from getting on the Hogwarts Express... it was creepy. And then, the barrier. That bloody barrier. I still remember the jolt when we slammed into it, the sickening lurch as the train sped away. Dad’s flying car... that was a wild ride. But crashing into the Whomping Willow? Not so much.
The whispers started soon after. "Mudbloods." That word, dripping with venom, made my blood boil. Someone was attacking students. And not just any students. Muggle-borns. Like Hermione. Fear was thick in the air. Every time I saw her walking down the corridor, her nose buried in a book, I felt a knot of worry in my stomach. What if…?
Gilderoy Lockhart. That pompous git. With his flashy smiles and his ridiculous stories. He was supposed to be our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, but he was more interested in his own reflection. And then, there were the snakes. Everywhere. Slithering through the corridors, carved into the walls. It was unnerving.
The dueling club. That was a disaster. Malfoy, with his smug grin, and then… the snake. Harry, speaking Parseltongue. Everyone staring at him, whispering. It was like they were seeing him in a whole new light. A dark light. And I… I didn’t know what to think. Was he…? No. He couldn’t be. Not Harry.
Then, Hermione. Petrified. That word echoed in my head, a cold, sharp blade. She was just… gone. Frozen. And the fear, the absolute terror, that washed over me… I’d never felt anything like it. We had to do something. We had to find out who was doing this.
Following the spiders into the Forbidden Forest. That was the worst idea ever. Aragog. A giant, talking spider. And his… family. My skin crawled. I still get shivers thinking about it. But we did it. We found the clue. We found out about the Basilisk.
The Chamber of Secrets. That place was terrifying. Dark, damp, and filled with the stench of death. And then, the Basilisk. That monstrous snake. Its eyes… I can still see them, glowing in the darkness. I thought we were done for. I thought we were going to die. But Harry… he was amazing. He fought it. He killed it.
And then, Tom Riddle. Voldemort. His younger self. Trapped in a diary. He was the one. He was behind it all. Manipulating Ginny, using her to open the Chamber. That was a shock.
When we got back to the common room, and Hermione was… back, it was like a miracle. The relief was overwhelming. And then, Dobby. Freed. That little house-elf, jumping for joy. It was a good ending.
That year, it was a nightmare but we got through it. We faced our fears. We saved Hermione. And we learned something important: that we were stronger together. That no matter how dark things got, we could always find a way through. But those whispers, those looks… they left a mark. A dark, ugly mark. And I knew, deep down, that things were never going to be the same.
"A mass murderer after Harry? Seriously?" I muttered, staring out the train window. It was like we couldn't catch a break. First, the Chamber, now this. Sirius Black. It was all anyone was talking about. And then, the Dementors. Those cold, shadowy things. They made me feel… empty. Like all the happiness had been sucked out of me. I felt sick on that train ride.
And Scabbers… that rat was always trouble. He was skittish, always trying to bite. But I never thought he'd be… Pettigrew. That whole situation with Sirius was a mess. One minute, he was a dangerous criminal, the next, he was Harry's godfather. It was hard to wrap my head around.
Hagrid's hippogriff, Buckbeak. That was a disaster waiting to happen. Malfoy, being his usual git self, and then… well, you know. I felt bad for Hagrid. He was always getting the short end of the stick. And then, Buckbeak's trial… it was stressful. I was worried we were going to lose him.
Hermione and her time-turner. That girl was always up to something. I still don't understand how she managed to be in two places at once. All those extra classes, all that sneaking around… it was exhausting just thinking about it. And she was always stressed. I felt bad for her, but she was impossible to talk to most of the time.
The Shrieking Shack. That place was creepy. Really creepy. And then, finding out Pettigrew was Scabbers? Bloody Hell! I mean, who would have thought? And then, Sirius. He was a good guy. He was just trying to help Harry. And then, he was gone, just like that.
That whole year was a roller coaster. One minute, we were dealing with a mass murderer, the next, we were trying to save a hippogriff. And Hermione, with her time-turner, was always causing some kind of chaos. Off her rockers, that one was. It was exhausting. But we got through it. We learned that things weren't always what they seemed. Sometimes, the people you thought were bad were actually good. And sometimes, the people you trusted… well, they weren’t trustworthy at all. And I had to admit, Harry was far braver than I ever would be.
"The Triwizard Tournament? Seriously?" I muttered, staring at the Goblet of Fire. It was all anyone was talking about. And then, Harry's name came out. Mine didn't. I was jealous. I'll admit it. I was mad. He already had enough attention, and now this. It felt unfair.
The Yule Ball. That was a nightmare. Trying to find a date, getting my robes right… it was a disaster. And Hermione, looking all… different. Like a princess. I couldn't believe it. And then, Krum. Krum! I was so angry. I felt like a right idiot.
The tasks were insane. Dragons, the lake, the maze… it was like one of the deadly video games Hermione and Harry talked about. Harry….I was worried sick about him but being a great git I was, I didn’t show it. And then, Cedric. Poor Cedric. I still can't believe he's gone. Just like that.
And then, Voldemort. Back. Proper back. That night, in the graveyard… it changed everything. The fear, the pain, the sheer terror… it was like nothing I'd ever felt before. And Harry, telling us what he saw… it was hard to believe. But I knew he wasn't lying.
The tension after that was thick. Everyone was on edge. No one knew what was going to happen next. And I was just… trying to keep up. Trying to be there for Harry. But I was also scared. Really scared.
The whole year was a mess. Jealousy, fear, and then… that. It was like we'd been thrown into the deep end. And I knew, deep down, that things were never going to be the same again. We were in a war, whether we liked it or not. And I wasn't sure I was ready for it. I wasn't sure any of us were. And I felt a lot of guilt about the way I treated Harry after his name came out of the goblet. I really messed that up.
"Umbridge," I muttered, my voice dripping with disgust. That woman. That pink, toad-like woman. I still have nightmares about those detentions. The way she made us write with that blood quill… it was cruel. And the way she took over Hogwarts, turning it into some kind of dictatorship… it was insane.
Dumbledore's Army. That was something. A real rebellion. A way to fight back. To learn how to defend ourselves. Because let’s be honest, Umbridge wasn’t teaching us anything useful. It was good to be part of something, to feel like we were actually doing something. But it was also stressful. Always having to sneak around, always worried about getting caught.
And then, the Ministry. That whole mess with the Department of Mysteries. The visions, the prophecies… it was all so confusing. And then, Sirius. Gone. Just like that. I saw the look on Harry’s face. Pure, raw pain. It was awful. And I felt helpless.
The Order of the Phoenix. All those grown-ups, whispering in corners, keeping secrets. It was frustrating. We were in the middle of a war, and they were treating us like kids. But I understood. Sort of. They were trying to protect us. But it didn't make it any easier.
The tension at Hogwarts was unbearable. Everyone was on edge. Students were getting expelled, rules were changing, and the air was thick with fear. And Harry... he was struggling. He was angry, frustrated, and hurt. And I was trying to be there for him, trying to be a good friend, but sometimes, I just didn't know what to say.
The dreams, the visions, the connection between Harry and Voldemort... it was scary. Really scary. It felt like we were living in a nightmare. And I was constantly worried about Harry, worried about what he was going through.
That year was exhausting, emotionally and physically. The constant battles with Umbridge, the stress of Dumbledore's Army, and the loss of Sirius… it took a toll on all of us. And I felt a growing sense of dread, a feeling that things were only going to get worse. And I was worried about Harry, like really worried. He was carrying so much, and I didn’t know how to help him carry the weight.
"Love potions," I muttered, wrinkling my nose. "Seriously?" It was ridiculous. All those girls fawning over Harry, and then me, getting caught up in that whole Lavender thing. It was embarrassing. And honestly, a bit scary. The way those potions messed with your head… it wasn't right.
Malfoy. Something was definitely off with him. He was acting weird, secretive. Always sneaking around, looking pale and stressed. I knew he was up to something, but I couldn't figure out what. And Snape, always watching him, always protecting him… it was suspicious.
The Horcruxes. That was a heavy word. And the idea of Voldemort splitting his soul… it was disturbing. Really disturbing. And Dumbledore, showing Harry those memories, those glimpses into Voldemort's past… it was unsettling.
The tension at Hogwarts was thick. Everyone was on edge. The Death Eaters were getting bolder, the attacks were getting more frequent, and the fear was palpable. And Harry… he was changing. He was becoming more serious, more focused. And I was trying to keep up, trying to be a good friend, but I felt like I was falling behind.
The Quidditch team. That was a welcome distraction. A bit of normalcy in a world gone mad. But even that was tainted by the constant threat of attack. And then, me and Hermione... that whole awkward, will-they-won't-they thing. It was stressful. And confusing.
And then, Dumbledore. Gone. Just like that. It was like a punch to the gut. I couldn't believe it. And Snape… that man. He killed him. We all saw it with our own eyes. The Greatest Wizard of our time, our Headmaster, the only one Voldemort was scared off…..dead. I didn't know what to think.
After that, everything changed. The atmosphere at Hogwarts was heavy with grief and fear. And Harry… he was determined. He told us what he needed to do. Find the Horcruxes. Finish what Dumbledore started. And I knew, deep down, that we were going with him. No matter what.
That year was a mess. Love potions, Horcruxes, death… it was like a dark cloud hanging over everything. And I felt a growing sense of dread, a feeling that things were about to get a lot worse. And I was scared. Really scared. But I also knew that we couldn't back down. We had to fight. We had to finish this. And I was going to stand by Harry, no matter what. Even if it meant facing Voldemort himself. And I was still incredibly angry at Snape.
"The Horcrux hunt," I muttered, staring into the endless darkness of the forest. "This is insane." Cold, hungry, and constantly on the run. That was our life. Every day was a struggle. Every night was a nightmare. And the locket… that thing was evil. It messed with my head, filled me with doubt and anger. I was losing it. I really was.
Leaving. I know I messed up. I know I abandoned them. But I couldn't take it anymore. The locket, the arguments, the constant fear… it was too much. I was weak. I admit it. And I regretted it the second I left. Every single second.
Coming back. That was the hardest thing I've ever done. Trying to find them, trying to make amends. I knew I'd screwed up big time. And when I finally found them, when I saw the look on Hermione's face… I felt like the lowest scum on earth. But I had to try. I had to make it right.
The Horcrux destruction. That was a terrifying process. Each one we destroyed felt like a victory, but also a reminder of what we were up against. And the way they affected us… it was like they were trying to break us from the inside out.
The Deathly Hallows. That was a weird one. The Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone, the Invisibility Cloak… it was like something out of a fairy tale. But a dark, twisted fairy tale. And Harry, being the Master of Death… it was hard to comprehend.
The Battle of Hogwarts. That was… I don't even have words. Chaos. Pure chaos. Death, destruction, and fear. Everywhere. And Fred… gone. Just like that. I still can't believe it.
"No," Ron whispered, his voice cracking, the word lost in the cacophony of the crumbling castle. He stared at Fred, his twin, his brother, lying still amidst the rubble. It couldn't be. It couldn't be. Not Fred.
The sounds of the battle faded, replaced by a deafening silence in his ears. He felt numb, cold, like he'd been encased in ice. Fred's laughter, his jokes, the way they'd always understood each other without words… it was all gone. Just like that.
He remembered their childhood, the pranks they'd pulled, the Weasley Wizard Wheezes, the sheer, chaotic joy they'd shared. Every memory was a fresh wound, a sharp, agonizing reminder of what he'd lost.
We'll open a joke shop, Ron. We'll be rich! Fred's voice echoed in his mind, a ghostly whisper. He remembered the gleam in Fred's eyes, the way he'd always found humor in the darkest of situations. Now, that gleam was extinguished.
He wanted to scream, to rage against the injustice of it all. How could this happen? How could Voldemort take away someone so… vibrant? So alive? It wasn't fair. It wasn't right.
He felt a burning anger, a white-hot rage that threatened to consume him. He wanted to tear Voldemort apart, to make him pay for what he'd done. But even that wouldn't bring Fred back.
Tears streamed down his face, hot and heavy, blurring his vision. He didn't care who saw him. He didn't care about anything. He just wanted Fred back. He wanted his brother back.
He thought of George, how he must be feeling, and a fresh wave of grief washed over him. How could George go on without Fred? How could any of them? They were twins, two halves of a whole.
He felt a hollow ache in his chest, a gaping wound that would never heal. He knew he would never be the same. They would never be the same. The world had lost a light, a spark, a piece of itself that could never be replaced.
He wanted to tell Fred how much he loved him, how much he'd always admired him. But it was too late. All he could do was sit there, amidst the ruins of the castle, and mourn the brother he'd lost. A brother who would forever be a missing piece of his heart. And he knew, that a part of himself, had died there, in the rubble, with Fred.
And then, Voldemort. The final confrontation. It was like the world was holding its breath. And Harry… he did it. He defeated him. He ended it. But at such a cost.
Afterwards… it was a blur. Grief, relief, exhaustion. We were alive. But we were changed. All of us. We'd seen things, done things, that no one should ever have to. And I knew, deep down, that we would never be the same.
That year was a nightmare. A long, drawn-out nightmare. But we survived. We finished what we started. And we learned that even in the darkest of times, there's always hope and that family, real family, is worth fighting for. Even if it means facing the darkest of magic and that I’d follow Harry, and Hermione, anywhere.
"It's… quiet," I muttered, staring out the window of the Burrow. Too quiet. The silence was heavy, thick with the ghosts of those we'd lost. Fred. His laughter, his jokes… gone. It was like a piece of me was missing.
The rebuilding. Hogwarts, the Ministry, everything… it was a mess. A necessary mess, but a mess nonetheless. And we were all trying to pick up the pieces, trying to figure out how to live in a world without Voldemort. But it wasn't easy. The scars were deep, both physical and emotional.
The Auror training. Harry and I, we threw ourselves into it. It was a way to channel our anger, our grief. A way to feel like we were doing something. But it was also hard. Seeing the faces of the Death Eaters we captured, hearing their excuses… it made my stomach churn.
Hermione. She was different. More serious, more focused. She was determined to rebuild the wizarding world, to make it better. And I admired her for that. But sometimes, I missed the old Hermione, the one who would get flustered over a textbook.
And then, there was us. Me and Hermione. Trying to figure out how to be a couple, how to navigate this new world together. It wasn't always smooth sailing. We had our arguments, our disagreements. But we always found our way back to each other.
The nightmares. They were the worst. Flashes of green light, the sound of screams, the cold, dead eyes of Voldemort. I'd wake up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding, and I'd just… hold Hermione close. Trying to convince myself that it was over.
The kids. Rose and Hugo. They were our light. Our hope for the future. Watching them grow, watching them discover the magic of the world… it was like a balm to my soul. But even then, there was a shadow. A constant reminder of what we'd been through.
And Harry. He was… different. Quiet, withdrawn. He carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. But he was also strong. Resilient. He was building a life, a family. And he was trying to find peace.
We were all trying to find peace. Trying to heal. Trying to move on. But the war had changed us. It had taken something from us, something we could never get back. But it had also given us something. A bond, a connection, that would last a lifetime. And we were determined to make the most of it. To build a better future, for ourselves, and for our children. And to never forget those we lost.
"...and that's how it ended," Ron finished, his voice hoarse. He looked at Hugo and Rose, their faces solemn. "We were alive. We had won. But we were changed. All of us."
"But, Dad," Rose asked, her brow furrowed, "was it… was it worth it?"
Ron took a deep breath. "Worth it?" he repeated, his gaze softening. "Rose, Hugo, there's no easy answer to that. We lost so much. So many good people. But we also gained something. We learned that even in the darkest of times, there's always hope. That love, and friendship, and family… they're the strongest magic of all. And that we have to fight for what's right, no matter the cost."
He put his arms around them, pulling them close. "And we learned that we have to build a better future. For you. For all the children who will come after us. A future where you don't have to fight such battles."
"So, we're safe now?" Hugo asked, his voice a whisper.
Ron smiled, a sad, weary smile. "Safer," he corrected. "But we must always be vigilant. We must always remember. And we must always… always… stand together." He kissed them both on their foreheads. "Now, off to bed. It's late."
As they climbed the stairs, he watched them go, a flicker of hope in his eyes. He hoped that he’d given them the knowledge they needed, and that they would grow up to make the world a better place.