FIC: Feat. Char: Ron Weasley. the last son, by dirgewithoutmusic https://crack-broom.livejournal.com/2614120.html
Title: the last son Gaining Access: n/a
Author: dirgewithoutmusic
Word Count: 13051 words, one-shot complete
Alternate Links to Fic: According to the author it should be on their Tumblr, I wasn't able to locate it, though.
Character: Ron Weasley
Rating: GEN
Author's Summary: On the train platform, Harry suffered a hug from Remus, a hair ruffle from Sirius, and a "don't do anything I wouldn't do" from his mother, and then he ran for the brick wall, cart rattling before him. The snowy owl they'd gotten him hooted softly in protest. Harry had named her Ororo after the Muggle comic books his mother had introduced him to. Lily took Harry to the comic store every time he sat through a whole visit with his aunt, uncle, and cousin and didn't kick anybody unless they kicked him first.
Bill tried to wipe some dirt off a dodging Ron's nose. Ginny complained loudly about being left behind. Fred and George ran off to see Lee Jordan's spider. People watched the Weasleys from all directions--they were hard to miss--and Ron's shoulders slowly rose up and up to his reddening ears. He missed the big empty orchards behind the Burrow already.
Ron was one of the last people on the train. He slid past staring eyes and finally stepped himself into an almost unoccupied compartment-- there was just one small boy tucked in there. He had messy dark hair, slightly askew round glasses, and a comic book held up in front of his nose.
"Is it okay if I sit here?" said Ron. "Everywhere else is full."
Author's Website: @
AO3, @
Tumblr Why everyone should read this: According to the author, this piece was written in answer to the prompt: "what if Ron was the Chosen One?".
In little over 13k words, the author takes on a journey to show us how much would have changed if that had been the case. And at the same, they manage to show us how nothing changed at all. People still die, children still grow up as orphans seven of them in this universe, and Voldemort still needs to be taken out for good.
The story is an emotional rollercoaster, youll cry and laugh, and curse in agony at the unfairness of it all. I could spend a few hundreds of words to describe how good this story is, but Id risk giving away too much. This is one of those stories that you have to experience for yourself, soak up the words during your first read, and let them settle during round two. Theres certain melancholy thats woven into the story that takes a hold of you and doesnt let go until youre done reading.
If you have an some time and tissues to waste, this is the one to waste them on.
Excerpt: Ron turned the Stone three times in his hand. Harry had the Cloak, and Hermione had won rights to the Elder Wand, disarming Draco in a skirmish-- but Dumbledore had left Ron the Stone. He turned it three times and his ghosts stepped into view.
"Ron," Molly Weasley said, squeezing insubstantial hands together, and Ron looked at her standing there. She was plump and short, with flushed cheeks and a wand shoved through her bunned-up hair. He had seen her in a dozen pictures, beaming and scolding and napping, and he wasn't sure if this felt worse because it was just another picture, or because it wasn't.
"Hi, Mum," he said. "I'm sorry."
"What for?" Molly said hotly, like she was Percy in a temper, and Ron almost smiled. "You haven't got anything to be sorry for, sweetheart."
Her hair-- Arthur's, Bill's, Fred's-- it should have been red, but it was a listless silver. He could see the trees through them, the drooping pine needles and whispering leaves. Ginny could always tell Fred and George apart, but Ron never could-- except that now Fred looked so young. George had been growing and growing, outliving him, and he would go on outgrowing him forever.
"He's alright," said Fred. "Isn't he?"
And Ron nodded, because he was bad at lying aloud.