Chapter 5
Harry sat across from Hermione, the silence heavy as he began to explain everything, piece by piece. He detailed how the individual had broken into Shell Cottage, triggering the protective wards. How Bill, Percy, and Charlie, alerted by the intrusion, had rushed to the cottage, only to be met by a younger version of Ron. The man had been confused, terrified even, and in the ensuing chaos, they had managed to subdue him.
Harry went on to describe his own encounter—the interrogation. He told her how he had used Veritaserum, the most foolproof method they had for extracting truth. The man answered every question with absolute certainty, revealing things only Ron could know. But there was a gap, a blank space where everything after the Horcrux hunt simply didn’t exist for him. He was stuck, mentally, in the past, believing they were still in the middle of the war.
As Harry spoke, Hermione’s expression shifted from shock to disbelief, and then to something else—pain. The more details Harry gave, the harder it became for her to process. Her mind kept flashing to the memory of Ron’s funeral, his lifeless body in the open casket. She had held his hand, kissed his forehead. She had buried him. Now, the very idea that he might have somehow come back—it was tearing at the gaping wound in her heart, a wound that had barely begun to heal.
Harry finished, his voice soft but insistent. "Hermione, I’m telling you this because you needed to hear it from me. I’ve been trying to keep this quiet, but in a few days, the Ministry will know, and within a week, the whole of wizarding Britain will. There are too many leaks in the Auror Corps, and this secret... it’s too big. If the Wizengamot were to hold a trial, you’ll either have to preside as Minister or recuse yourself because of your personal connection."
Hermione’s thoughts raced, her mind spinning at the idea of a trial. Could she really stand by while a man who looked exactly like Ron—who *might* be Ron—was put on trial, chained up, and possibly sent to Azkaban under suspicion of being a Death Eater? The very thought of it made her stomach twist. As incredulous as it sounded, she had to know the truth. If by some impossible miracle, this man was really her husband, she would stop at nothing to free him. They could figure out everything else later.
A flicker of an idea started to form in her mind. She glanced at Harry, her voice low and measured. "Veritaserum is foolproof, Harry, but… like you’ve been assuming, minds can be tampered with. What if something has been done to him? What if he truly believes he’s Ron because someone’s manipulated his memories?"
Harry frowned, his brow furrowing. "You think his mind’s been tampered with? Altered somehow?"
"It’s possible," Hermione said, her voice growing more determined. "The Ministry has methods—secret ones—for accessing memories. But it’s dangerous. It can only be done with the individual’s consent. If not, it could damage their mind permanently."
"Memory access?" Harry asked, intrigued. "I didn’t know about that. I thought Legilimency was the only way."
Hermione shook her head. "Legilimency is invasive, but this is different. It’s deeper. Only the Unspeakables and the Minister for Magic are aware of the process. You wouldn’t have clearance for that, Harry." She paused, her mind working quickly now. "If we could convince him to let us access his memories, we could see if they’ve been tampered with. And we’d know for sure whether there’s any trace of dark magic or manipulation."
Harry leaned forward, his eyes locked on hers. "You’re saying we can find out if he’s really Ron—or if he’s been made to believe he is."
"Exactly," Hermione said, her resolve hardening. "But we’ll need to speak with him. Convince him that we’re not Death Eaters and that the only way for us to believe him is to access his memories. He has to consent."
Harry nodded, his mind already turning over the plan. "We’ll also have to tell him the truth, about the real Ron—about his death. And that the Horcrux hunt ended over twenty years ago."
Hermione winced at the thought, the pain fresh in her chest, but she pushed it aside. "It’ll be hard for him to hear, but we don’t have a choice. If we’re going to get to the bottom of this, we need his cooperation."
For a moment, they sat in silence, the enormity of what they were planning sinking in. Hermione’s mind was already whirling, formulating the steps they would need to take. It was a fragile hope, but it was the only chance they had at discovering the truth.
Harry nodded, steeling himself for what came next. "I’ll arrange a meeting with him," he said. "Just the three of us—no Aurors, no interference. We need to do this without anyone else complicating things."
Hermione agreed, her mind already working through the logistics. "I’ll coordinate with the Unspeakables to have the procedure ready. Once he agrees, we’ll move quickly. We won’t have long before the Wizengamot gets involved, and once they do, we’ll lose control of the situation."
They both knew the clock was ticking. They had to convince the Ron lookalike to trust them, and if they didn’t act swiftly, the Ministry—and the entire wizarding world—would soon demand answers.