The Haunting Corridor

"Ron... Ron..."

It was a muted voice, as if lost in the distance. He found it familiar and a little annoying as well. For a while, everything was dark and he couldn't quite remember where he was or how he got there. He had to wake up though, he knew that.

"Ron!"

This time the ginger opened his eyes as he let out a painful grunt. From the blurry shapes in front of him, he distinguished Harry. Everything was out of focus but Harry looked relieved, that much he could tell.

"You alright, mate?" he asked.

"To some extent."

Ron turned around as the world began taking shape. They were in some office, one which needed attention, it was all shambles of papers and broken furniture. That was when he remembered.

"How are you feeling?"

"As if I just stepped on one of those blast-ended skrewts, nothing major mind you," Ron answered. He tried to stand up just to realize all of his body ached. "Oh bugger!"

"Easy there," Harry said as he helped his friend get up. After flexing his muscles a little, Ron was able to stand on his own. The wall behind Ron was trashed, surely Ron had hit himself there after the curse, which explained the back pain.

Harry stared at him for a moment, once he decided he was not going to fall to the floor he continued, "Are you out of your senses?! That was the barmiest thing you've done and I'm not saying that lightly."

"Oi, I'm in pain here. Are you going to give me a hard time, you git?" Ron smiled, remembering the confetti. How did he come up with that? He couldn't wait to tell George.

"It's not a joke. You got lucky, what if it had been the killing curse?"

At once the colour from Ron's face went out, he could be dead now. It had been a risky move. Still, he shouldn't let Harry get mad at him. Otherwise, his friend might tell Hermione about Ron's little feat, and then it would be his wife the one who would murder him.

"I'm sorry, alright? It felt like the only way to go, we needed a distraction. And besides, didn't you do the same with the Patronus out there?"

Harry didn't find an answer to that.

"The good thing is that we got that woman, she was mental." The woman. Aster Prince. Ron had forgotten about her. For the first time since he woke up, Ron tried to look beyond Harry, "You got her, right?"

His friend nodded, "I have to admit it did work as a distraction, remarkably well I must add. We put double stunners on her as soon as she attacked you. Penelope went to check on Tobias, she's with him right now. I reenervated you and here we are."

Curious, it must have been barely a couple of minutes since the whole thing. It felt way longer to Ron. The cloud rain was gone, Ron noticed, and fortunately since Hagrid was not around to lend that umbrella to him. Ron realized they were mostly dry now, probably Harry's doing.

Ron found the woman on the floor, unconscious and covered with multicoloured confetti. Now that he looked at her more closely he was sure of having seen her at the Ministry before. Ron wondered if Aster Prince had been Imperiused or if she had acted on her own accord. If she wasn't Imperioused, it was going to be a headache to tell the family she was alive after all, only to throw her into a cell the next moment.

It was no time to do an investigation though.

"There has to be an explanation for all of this. We have to find Dolohov," said Harry.

They tied the woman up, then they headed to the small fireplace maintenance office where Penelope was checking Tobias Bosley's wounds.

"It's great to see you well, sir," she said as soon as she saw Ron enter.

"Thanks, you did a fine job keeping me alive back at the Atrium. It would've been a waste to die so soon after," Ron said. "Besides, I have to find the name of that wizard before dying."

"What wizard?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"The one in the sculpture, the one that saved our arses at the Atrium."

"It's called a bust when it's just the face," Penelope corrected him, "I'm not entirely sure whose bust it was though, I reckon it could've been an old minister. Honestly, I didn't care that much who it was at the moment."

A bust it is then.

After Penelope finished with Tobias' wounds, she transfigured a pencil holder into a proper mug and got to fetch him some tea. Fear was still evident in the man's eyes. His long face reflected weariness as well. Fortunately, he looked way better after getting help from Penelope.

"Nice to see you well, Mr. Bosley," said Harry.

Ron flexed his muscles a bit, still numb from before, and moved closer to the man, "What does it feel to be back among the living?"

The presumed dead worker looked stunned as he stared at Ron. "T—the living?"

"You were believed dead," said Harry, making the man almost drop his mug, "I'm sorry for this, it must be all very sudden. I promise all your questions will be answered in the proper time, I guess you'll want to be back to your family as quickly as possible?"

The brown-haired man nodded. His eyes were big, Ron noticed, but it could be the way his expression was at the moment. Still surprised, still trying to get used to what happened. Ron couldn't really blame him.

"We'll see to it." Harry promised, "However, we're in a critical situation and we need your help. I know it must be difficult, but can you tell us all you can remember about the men who took you prisoner?"

Tobias Bosley hurried some quick words. The man didn't have much information from the days he was captured, still, his mere existence confirmed Hermione's theory. Ron still couldn't believe it, she did not only was right on her bright ideas but on her more mental ones as well.

"They're here for something." the man said at last.

Ron froze, "The masked men?"

Tobias nodded. "I heard those three talking about giving the others time. Time to get something."

Bollocks. That window thing Hermione mentioned... the mirror that prick Pucey wrote about. It must be the same thing. Ron had been hoping it didn't come to that.

"This confirms it," he told Harry.

"It might."

Penelope was confused, "What is it?"

There was a loud sound outside, Harry went to take a quick look through the windows, "More reinforcements have arrived, it's just a matter of minutes before the Atrium is ours." he announced.

"We don't have time to wait for them though," Ron added.

"Care to explain?" insisted Penelope.

Harry turned to her, "I need to go after Dolohov. I think I know where he is."

"You mean 'we' need to go after Dolohov."

"Ron..."

He could see the argument coming from a mile away, but Ron would be having none of it. It was true that he had almost died not five minutes ago and that he might not be in the best of conditions, on the other hand, there was no way in bloody hell he was leaving Harry alone.

"Don't even try to go all 'honorable git' with me. I know the act, so drop it. You won't be able to do this alone."

"It's your last day as an Auror, Ron. This could all be over for you now, you don't have to come. Think of Hermione," Harry argued.

Low punch, however, Ron was not backing down. "I'm going and that's it. Hermione wouldn't want me to leave you alone. Come to think of it, my luck is just blasted, if I go I might die but if I don't help you Ginny would probably kill me either way."

Harry rolled his eyes, he ended up nodding.

"So, where are we going?" asked Penelope.

Ron was left speechless, it would be hard to refuse the Auror's help but for a moment he truly feared for her. What if she didn't make it? Like the young Parker didn't. Ron had been trying not to think of the young lad or any of the other fallen Aurors, however, all of what had happened in the last hour came down on him, heavily.

He didn't want Penelope to die.

Fortunately, Harry took over, "You're not going, Penelope."

"What? You can't be serious."

"I need you to take care of Mr. Bosley and ensure this fireplace is not used by the attackers anymore. Someone has to watch over our prisoners too."

The woman turned to look at the worker, who looked afraid of the possibility of being left alone, "I'm in better shape than Weasley. He can stay," she argued.

"Yes you are, but he is a stubborn prat. And though I hate to admit it, I need him. He knows more about the men we're facing than you do."

"I could be of great help."

Harry smiled, "You have already been the greatest of helps. Without you, we would have lost here and we would be dead. I'll make sure Redfern hears about it, you might get a promotion."

Two times the Auror tried to talk back at Harry without finding the words. Eventually, she gave up, "Go on then."

Ron smiled at her, "Thanks, for everything."

"Remember, you can't die without finding out the name of the man, the one in the bust." she said, trying to smile, "Besides, you owe me a cake."

"You do?" Harry asked him.

"The price for saving my life."

Penelope didn't like serious or gloomy talk, that much was obvious. Ron hadn't crossed two words with her before that night, but he guessed almost dying together was a way of getting to know stuff about people.

"And you—" Penelope turned to Harry, "you better make it as well. I need my promotion. Sir."

Harry nodded.

"Tell Redfern to come to the Department of Mysteries after they get into the building."

"The Department of Mysteries?" the woman asked, visibly startled.

"No time to explain. Let's go, Ron."

They left at once. Without turning back as they made their way to the lifts. On the way there Ron thought of Parker and his last moments. He thought of the Department of Mysteries and what was being kept there. Mostly though, he thought of Hermione.

When the lift doors closed, Harry and Ron bolted towards level 9 and their last mission together.

All the way there, the two friends remained silent. Ron wondered if Harry had as much in his head as he did. He surely did, Harry loved sulking in situations like this.

As the different floors in the Ministry passed by his eyes, Ron's thoughts wandered to their upcoming challenge. Was Dolohov trying to alter time? That was not his style, having elaborate plans. He seemed more of the brute type.

Ron still found it hard to believe they had the guts to attack the Ministry, it was one of the most secure places in the world. Everyone knew that. It was like trying to steal something from Gringotts.

Memories of their last visit at Gringotts flashed to Ron. Getting the goblins to admit them back at the bank had been a massive headache for Kingsley but, with Bill's help, he managed to pull it off. Ron would have smiled at the memory, but he felt his body hurting just then. His back was killing him and he was sure that woman had cut him with one of those flying knives somewhere.

Aster Prince. Was she really Imperioused? Was she Snape's lost cousin? Only time would tell.

At his side, Harry showed no emotion. Ron's longest friend noticed him wincing, even so, he didn't say anything about it. There was no turning back at this point.

The lift stopped. As they came out, Ron realized they must've looked like crap. They had been hit hard and not even the rain had been able to remove all the black dust from them.

Both friends raised their wands, ready to step out, together.

"I told you, Hermione—"

"—is always right, I know," said Harry.

The lift doors opened with a creaky sound. There was no one there, only the path to the black door. Harry seemed to shiver and Ron was in no better shape. The dark corridor before them had haunted Ron's dreams before. They had to do this though, they had already lost too much that night. He thought of young Parker and his lifeless eyes again, if they turned back now he would have died in vain.

Ron sighed heavily, "Can I tell you something?"

"What is it?" his friend asked, ever so quiet.

"If you had told me we were coming back here years ago—"

"You wouldn't have believed me?" Harry guessed as they got closer.

"I would've stopped being your friend at that very moment," Ron corrected with a grin.

Harry smiled, just barely, then moved his hand towards the black door. His smile didn't last long.

"Ready?" Harry's voice was merely a whisper.

He hoped they were ready, they were only two against who-knew-how-many. For a wild second, Ron even wished Harry had kept the Elder Wand, it could've come handy right about now. However, the wand his friend was gripping was the old Phoenix one he had gotten from Ollivander so many years ago, back around the days when he had first befriended Ron. Suddenly Ron realized he had been friends with Harry for more than half of his life, fighting side by side, spending their days together. Considering that he was going to accept George's offer, that was going to change this day, in one way or another.

"Let's do this, mate," Ron said.

The knob was turned and then they were both inside. The sound abandoned them. They found themselves in a familiar round room, gloomy and with nothing around but a set of plain black doors, handleless. The blue fire made things look even gloomier. It was just as Ron remembered.

The door behind them closed.

All the doors started moving, as Ron had forgotten they would do. Now they didn't know which door led where. Not that they knew before they started spinning, but still, he didn't like the whole change of doors.

"Now what?" Ron asked. Should they go both through the same door? Splitting now sounded like a world-class terrible idea.

They didn't have to make a choice though, because right then one of the doors opened and several men came inside the round room. They were shocked at seeing Ron and Harry there. None of them were bothering with a mask anymore.

Standing in the middle, Dolohov noticed them first. He had that same horrible face that Ron remembered, only that it had more wrinkles now. His rough hair had more grey in it as well. It took him a short time to frown at them in recognition as a hateful smile came to his lips.

"It has been some time Potter," the old fugitive finally said. Then, without waiting for an answer, he threw a purple curse at them and everything turned to madness.

Ron and Harry made their best to jump away and fire back, yet they were on the open and space didn't allow for much of a movement

"Depulso!" Harry shouted. Five men — Dolohov included — dodged the spell. Even so, the other two were thrown to the door they came from. Ron heard the entrance door slam. He knew what was coming.

No-one stopped firing as the walls spun once again around them. Harry engaged at once in a fight against a tall man, hoping to surprise him, but the man was fast and a bloody good duelist. The bloke had slick back blond hair, which made him look like some sort of Malfoy, but more dangerous. Harry and Ron had to take some of these men down quickly if they wanted to have a chance, they were outnumbered.

Ron tried to help his friend but he had his own hands busy, as he found himself facing a dark-skinned man of white hair. He had odd-looking tattoos on his cheeks and spoke in a tongue Ron couldn't understand. He was a tough one as well, seemed to be anticipating his every move.

Ron was starting to get dizzy, he thought he might chunder all over the Department of Mysteries when the door movement stopped. However, that didn't change the fact that they were in disadvantage and needed to do something soon.

"Watch out!" Harry managed to warn Ron under the madness.

The purple beam that Dolohov had fired passed close to Ron's left ear, but he was able to duck sideways as the loose curse continued its way to the wall. The dark-skinned man he was fighting managed to dodge it as well, yet he was distracted enough for Ron to get him directly on the chest with a stunner.

One down, Ron thought, as he turned to help his friend.

Ron raised his red oak wand ready to help when a bloody-minded curse came to him. Even when he managed to pull his shield up he was thrown backward with great strength. It happened that there was a door just behind him and Ron opened it with his back as he flew through it.

"Ouch!" he groaned as he hit hard against the floor. His back was getting a lot of punishment today.

"RON!" Harry's shouts echoed in the distance, he was too busy to help though. Ron saw his friend casting a rope out of thin air, trying to pull the blond man out of combat with it. Harry was also duelling Dolohov at the same time.

"I'm fine!" Ron yelled back, still with his back against the floor.

Dolohov and the man who shot at Ron were not the only ones still standing, there was a third man, a huge blond figure who Ron recognized right away.

Rowle, a Death Eater recently freed from Azkaban, came rushing after Ron the moment he flew through the door. Ron saw him just in time. He raised his wand arm blocking Rowle's curse as he stumbled back on his feet again.

The new room was beyond familiar though.

"Oh Bollocks! Not again!" Ron whined looking at the brains floating in the tank behind him, green liquid all around them. It had been reconstructed exactly as it was that day. He shivered, feeling ghost twinges from the faded scars on his arms.

The door closed and Ron stopped hearing Harry, his friend and Dolohov were out of his reach now.

Rowle was bigger than Ron remembered, as tall as the blond man Harry was duelling against, but certainly bulkier. The man who had shot at Ron was in the brain room as well. He walked patiently and seemed to be studying Ron. His short hair was dark and he had a relaxed stance to him, however, it was his eyes that caught Ron's attention. They were mismatched, one black and the other pale grey, but they seemed to be gleaming under the mystifying light of the brain room. It was as if the man's appearance fitted perfectly well with the Department of Mysteries. Dark, cold, and shining at the same time.

The doors on the circular room where Harry was fighting the other two enemies should be spinning by now, Ron realized. He knew he had to take these two down before he could help his friend.

"Weasley, a pleasure to finally meet you," the man with the mismatched eyes said. Another American, Ron noticed at once.

"Your friend, the explosion bloke, he was not that pleased. Garvan Ferrara?" Ron taunted him, as he shot back at Rowle.

The man of the queer eyes lost his smile. "You defeated Garvan? Call me impressed."

It was Harry who defeated Ferrara, but Ron was not about to take him out of that idea.

The man moved with ease through the room. He had fine clothes that seemed custom made, dark trousers and a dark vest over a plain shirt, nothing like old wizarding robes. He didn't shoot at Ron as often as Rowle, as if analyzing him was more interesting than winning the fight. He moved his wand almost lazily.

"He had friends, Ferrara. They thought they could beat us. A big man, as in muscle not belly like Rowle here," Ron had to dodge a spell that Rowle angrily sent at him. "There was a woman too."

Ron wanted to see his reaction. See if he gave any indication of the woman being Imperioused or not. The American man narrowed his mismatched eyes. He didn't lose his posture but it was obvious he did not take Ron's words kindly. Ron wasn't sure what to make of it.

It was a given that the man was about to throw a curse at him, so Ron was prepared. However, Rowle fired first, almost taking Ron by surprise. The purple beam passed only inches away from him, then came the sound of a tank exploding at his back, and Ron didn't give it a second thought. He slammed his body against a door at one side of the room and left before he could see the first brain coming out. He was not going to go through that again.

The last he heard before the door closed was Rowle's painful yells.

Ron fell through a few stone benches, hurting himself all the way down. The pain was numbing, yet he had his senses with him still. The moment he stopped, Ron turned quickly about, his wand aiming at the door from where he had fallen. No one appeared to have come after him.

He didn't dare to move though, fearing that man or Rowle could cross the door any moment now. He kept his eyes and wand fixed there, as his breathing echoed incredibly loud around him. Only the whispers were able to take his attention away from the door.

At first, they were silent, like soft murmurs, but somehow going very deeply into him. He turned around and went colder at the sight of the new room. The Death Chamber.

He was in a large pit surrounded by levels and levels of stone benches, and, in the middle, standing as an illusion of the past, the bloody arch. The veil. A black tattered curtain fluttering even when the air was cold and still around it. Before Ron even knew it, he was attracted to it and found himself standing a few feet away. He wanted to run in the other direction and never see the blasted thing ever again. Yet, he couldn't.

A cold wave flowed through him and he felt Sirius' presence stronger than ever, even the whispers sounded like him. He couldn't understand what they were saying but he wanted to.

Would it be that bad? To hear what Sirius had to say? Nothing bad could happen, he was plenty of feet away from the veil. A decent and safe distance.

Ron kept his eyes fixed on a single point. Trying to see something through it, anything. The shadows and glimmers danced with each other as the veil swayed, pushed by a non-existing wind. the stone benches on the other side couldn't be seen through it.

How could one die just by going in? What happened to the body afterward? It was just so mysterious and so unlike the killing curse. The veil didn't even feel evil, it just felt like death. Like peace.

It was then that another voice came, a younger one that Ron kept very dearly in his memory. They were only whispers, yet they sounded like a smirk, a laugh. A tight knot came to his throat and a void inside him felt bigger than it had felt in years. He felt guilty just by being on this side of the veil.

Ron's hand raised. For a glimpse, he thought he saw something on the other side, something inviting. He was not sure what or who it was, and he had to be.

He took a doubtful step forward, not even knowing what he was going to do, when a new voice reached him and he stopped at once. It was not a whisper this time, but a memory.

"Let's go," said the voice, and it was Hermione's voice.

Ron remembered. Harry had been here, standing where he was. All of them had been here. Hermione had insisted on going forward, leaving the veil behind. The memories were overwhelming. Sirius had died here, a day not very different to the one Ron was experiencing now.

He couldn't stay here and find what the whispers were telling him, it was pointless, he wouldn't find anything for him there. He had to help Harry, he had to go back to Hermione.

"Come on! Let's go," Hermione's voice came one more time, a memory so vivid Ron could almost swear the younger version of his wife was next to him.

He forced himself to close his eyes and shook his head, trying to regain focus. When he opened them again Ron realized he hadn't been that far from the veil anymore. He was right next to it now, his fingertips less than a foot away from the fluttering fabric.

Ron gulped and walked away. He glimpsed at the door from where he had arrived, no one came or was going to come after him. Maybe the brains took care of Rowle and that mysterious man, hopefully. Maybe they went on with their plans instead of pursuing Ron around the department.

After a hard breath, Ron turned his eyes and found the door back to the round room, the one with the spinning doors. He crossed it without looking back.

Harry was not in the round room, neither was Dolohov or the blond bloke. The dark-skinned man Ron had stunned was on the floor, still unconscious.

After taking the man's wand and making sure he was securely tied up, Ron turned around. Harry was surely at one of the other rooms, still fighting. But which one? How longer until Redfern's men joined them? It felt like a long time had passed already.

He was starting to think that bringing Penelope might have been a good idea after all.

As the black doors swiveled again, Ron started wondering where he was supposed to be heading. It was very little what he knew about the Department of Mysteries but if they indeed had come all of this way for a time-travelling artifact, they could only be looking for one room. Luckily, the next door Ron opened led him exactly there.

The Time Room was different from what Ron remembered, or maybe he couldn't remember it that well. It was still filled with gleaming lights and clocks, but the place felt different than the last time he had been there. Back in fifth year, Ron had a hectic run through this very room, but in a way, it felt more silent now. There was this unnerving feeling that something was hiding there, waiting for him.

A whole range of strange artifacts was placed on long tables, crazy things like size-changing balls floating around and a flask that seemed to contain a fog of pure darkness. That flask was transparent but the light in the room just couldn't get inside of it, dim as it was. There were offices at the sides where the Time-Turners used to be, Ron didn't know what was in them anymore.

Ron walked by the side of the tables, moving his wand from side to side. He didn't dare to light up the top of his wand but the sound of his steps was surely enough to warn any hidden enemy. He felt exhausted all of a sudden, as if all the night's events were weighting on him now. He must look like crap too, considering all the sweat and black dust he must have on his clothes and face. Still, he went on.

It didn't take long for him to realize that what he was looking for was at the very end of the room.

A man was standing in front of an old mirror, mouthing some foreign words as he swung his wand about it. It was him, the man of the mismatched eyes, the American.

"Am I interrupting something?" Ron asked, once in front of him. He didn't lose time in throwing a stunner.

The man spun gracefully and blocked his curse, "Give me some credit, Weasley. I saw you coming from a mile away."

"What are you doing here?" Ron demanded.

"It's none of your business. But fear not, I'm almost done."

The man took a few steps away from the mirror. Ron glimpsed all around him, yet his silent question was answered, "If you're looking for Rowle, you can relax. Your little stunt with the brain tank had an impression on him. I'm afraid that he won't be joining us for the time being."

"That was on him. The troll-head blew the tank himself," Ron said.

A gesture came from the man, letting Ron know that those were mere details for him.

Ron took the chance to look at the mirror in more detail now. It was oval-shaped, with a simple brass rim for an edge, large enough to show the whole of him at once. From afar it had seemed mysterious enough to Ron, but after a better look, he decided that it was far from the weirdest object in the room. Maybe it could've fit just fine on a regular Antique Shop.

Was that it? The mirror the note had mentioned? It should be, the man was doing some bloody thing to it when he arrived. Hermione had talked about a 'window' as well, but Ron hadn't seen any window down here.

Ron walked sideways until he was right in front of the mirror. He didn't move forward, just looking at it from afar, still, the man didn't try to stop him. What Ron saw in that mirror, shocked him plenty. That was saying something, considering he had seen beastly spiders and had attended Hagrid's classes before.

Standing straight in front of the mirror, Ron realized his reflection was missing, even when everything else in the room seemed to be shown there.

I'm a bloody vampire now, he thought.

He blinked twice, shook his head, then watched again. What he saw in the mirror this time surprised him even more. His reflection was there now alright, but it showed him a tad younger, as if he had just finished Hogwarts. A few times more he blinked, and each one his age was different: fifth year, third year, sixth year... first.

"A piece of something, isn't it?" said the man then, amused at Ron's reaction. "Croaker's little toy."

Saul Croaker. So this was it, the same thing Hermione had talked about. How was this a window though? Ron couldn't see what was on the other side, just him. A younger version of him mind you, but still him. If he knew more about this Time Theory rubbish he might be able to understand, but he was not into that sort of stuff and he was not about to start now.

"Where's Harry?" Ron hurried, raising his wand.

He didn't need an answer though, because once he put his attention away from the mirror he noticed the slightly opened door at the American's side. That door led directly to the Prophecy Room, Ron knew. Voices and distant shouting were coming from the other side, he could even see some lights flying over the shelves through the open crack of it. The gleams of the curses gave a purple tone to the American, who looked amused at Ron's reaction.

Harry was alive, that much was true, but Ron didn't know if he was fighting one or two opponents. Ron needed to go help and help him, yet he couldn't let the man finish whatever rubbish he was doing with the mirror.

"You can't get away, by now we should have the Atrium and the upper levels. It's only a matter of time!" Ron warned him.

"'A matter of time', you say? Curious choice of words," The man's voice was deep but calmed, not louder than it was supposed to. "It was never our intention to keep your precious Ministry, you see." he said, not looking worried at all.

So it was all a setup. What else could it be? They couldn't have expected to take over the British Ministry with fifty men.

"Besides, we're not stupid," the man continued as he eyed the mirror, going over his chances of finishing what he was doing before Ron interrupted him. "We knew that even with our great plan things could go awry. That's why I wouldn't have come here without a friend at the Portkey Office arranging something for us," he finished, touching one of his pockets.

"The Portkey Office? You're lying!"

"What? I can't have a guy at the Auror Office, one Unspeakable AND someone at the Portkey Office too?" the man insisted as he moved his eyes around the room, "You're a trained Auror, Weasley, it would be a folly to underestimate us by now. This was not rushed, it was planned for years and executed correctly."

He had a point. "Who?" he mouthed.

Even as he asked the question Ron wondered about that woman, Aster Prince. Was she the contact at the Portkey Office? It was likely. Was she Imperiused then? It would be something to look at. Later.

The man stopped and laughed slightly, "I think there's no point in hiding them now, is it? But I can hardly remember them all. They're too many!" the American man said faking a disbelief gesture, he was smirking, "Pucey, Carter, Dawlish, Robertson, Creevey—"

Ron was expecting Pucey, the nasty git, but was shocked by the others, "Creevey?"

"The boy had names and a brother he wanted back."

A brother. Ron turned to the mirror once more. Could the man really offer that? Was this time-mirror so powerful? He shook his head. This man wanted to get in his head, he could as well be lying about Dennis Creevey. "You're mental."

The man laughed as he stared at the mirror with greed, his mismatched eyes giving a mysterious glint. "This has dragged for too long, don't you think? Now, if you're not going to run to your friend's aid, I would be grateful if you just... backed off!"

A purple blast was thrown at Ron and he was able to dive behind a table at the last moment. Then the man fired at the mirror, and it shone with a blinding light. Ron saw the man rushing back to it, but he was quicker.

"Oh no, you won't!" Ron yelled as he threw a blast from behind the table. The man had to jump away from the mirror to avoid being hit.

The mirror's light receded, yet its surface was still somewhat bright.

Had the man failed? Ron had no clue what had just happened, but he had to continue the fight. He had to stop him from getting any closer to the mirror.

Spells flew over the tables, it was a delicate battle since neither one of them seemed to be trying to hit the artifacts in the room. The man was not as fast as the masked woman or as aggressive as the blond man who faced Harry, but he was just as dangerous. Maybe even more so. His movements were smarter, more practical, allowing him to do just the right amount of effort to push Ron to where he wanted. Nothing more. If the woman had been the athletic type, this man was more of a strategist. It almost felt as if he was playing chess. Ron could see his moves though, he wanted to keep him away from the mirror as much as he did.

"Stupefy!" Ron shouted at an opening, and he ran to the mirror before even checking if he had hit the man. Big mistake.

"Diffindo," the man's voice echoed.

"Arrgh!" Ron roared as he was slashed on his way to pick the mirror. A large cut was made on Ron's wand arm which started bleeding. He jumped out of the way at once.

As he gave cautious glimpses at his attacker and analyzed the game they were playing, Ron became more anxious. Harry was one of the best duelists he had known but he could still hear him battling Dolohov. What was taking him so long? Was he hurt? Was the blond man still fighting?

"Come on Weasley, you want to bring someone back too, am I right? Everybody has someone," the American said as he blasted a chair behind Ron, "A mother, a friend, a father maybe?"

Ron was gritting his teeth with more anger now, the wound on his arm was serious too, he noticed.

"Another relative perhaps?" the man continued, "...is it a sibling?"

"Shut your bloody mouth already!" Ron came out, firing quickly at him. He didn't hit him directly but a bottle exploded behind the man and an orange liquid splashed on his face, burning him.

The man let out a yell of pain, the first sign of him losing his calmness, then he had his defence back up. He was laughing again. "A sibling it is then," he said and they continued exchanging spells.

Ron was feeling terribly light-headed by now. He had to take care of his wound soon, otherwise he was going to pass out. Wouldn't that be just rotten luck now?

No, he couldn't let that happen. Ron had to win this thing soon. He had to take some risks. So, he started firing at the mysterious objects near the man, hoping that one of them would put the scale in his favor. Most likely he was destroying someone's life's work, but it was the least of his worries at the moment.

He was starting to consider destroying the mirror, to keep the man from taking it, when objects began to explode at his back. The American man started copying his tactic. No one could know for certain what happened next, a louder explosion thundered and the room was covered in total blackness. Ron remembered that dark flask.

The two of them kept going, trying to guide their attacks only by the sounds. Not even the curses and hexes were bright enough to shine over the black smoke that covered it all.

Ron couldn't let the man near the mirror, so he hurried there. He heard him running as well and, in total blackness, he was able to tackle him to the ground at the last second. The man untangled himself and rushed away from Ron.

The dizziness was getting unbearable, and Ron didn't even know where the man was now. He stood up, looking for the support on the wall, but his fingers found something liquid there. It couldn't be the mirror, right? It couldn't be liquid. Still, Ron couldn't know for sure with all the black fog around them.

The dark clouds cleared up a little, everything was still black but at least now Ron could see the spells coming at him and the shape of the man with mismatched eyes not far away.

"It's useless, Weasley. You can't stop me. It's time for things to change!" the man yelled, more closely than ever.

Ron was able to see the purple light one second before it was too late. He dodged and fired back "Reducto!" he shouted at a stone table near the man.

There was a chain reaction and between the darkness and all the things flying around, he wasn't sure of much anymore. Ron fell completely into the wall and liquid splashed in the air. He didn't know what was up or down anymore. He felt himself falling for a long time, far longer than the room's height. He couldn't hear a thing. The darkness was gone. The world was blue, and silver, and shining.