The one where the Boy lived [HP]

Chapter 5: Across the Ocean

Please note that this story is heavy Au, if you stay with the original timeline, you won't have the story making sense hence read it as fanfic. Also comments > power stones

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X days later

Daily Prophet, Morning Edition

"A Hero Laid to Rest: Minister Announces Harry Potter's Funeral"

By Rita Skeeter

In a move that has left the wizarding world divided, Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt has announced that the funeral of Harry James Potter—the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, the Vanquisher of the Dark Lord—will take place in Godric's Hollow, in the Muggle cemetery where his parents rest.

This is again raising then question of the pro-muggle stance the ministry has shown us since its legitimization after the dark era the Dark Lord left us with.

While the Saviour's parents were laid rest there, the Potter as a family had their remains rested at the Potter Cemetry of XX XXXXX XXXX, but this has changed since Minister Bagnold insisted the Potter's home of Godric Hollow be a monument, for the end of the first blood war, and now the minister follows steps of its 20 year predecessor.

"Ron Weasley Breaks Umbridge's Nose in Wizengamot Uproar—Why shouldn't a War Hero Be Punished?"

"Malfoys in the Ministry: Reformers or Survivors?"

"The Future of House Potter—Who Inherits?"

"Werewolf Blood in Government? The Teddy Lupin Debate"

Ron Weasley sat on a bench in the black marbeled grand atrium of the Ministry of Magic. The golden statue of wizarding unity—a relic of post-war reform—damaged after barrages of spells, no one knowing whether it was the Dark Lord's spell that incapacitated the bird statue or Dumbledore's in the duel of 99'. 

He crumbled up the paper as hedid his reading.

A familiar voice broke through his storming thoughts.

"Didn't think I'd see you waiting like a "civilized" man."

Ron looked up to see Hannah Abbott pacing toward him, tucking a Ministry-issued portkey into her pocket. 

She held up the portkey. "Ready?"

The portkey shimmered blue between them, and with a sharp pull, they vanished—leaving behind the cold halls of Ministry, reappearing beneath the blazing Australian sun.

The Grangers

Ron had never been to Australia before. He wasn't sure what he expected—kangaroos bouncing around the city? Giant spiders worse than Aragog? 

And now, they were here. For the Grangers. For once Ron considered he should have let Aragog eat him.

Dan and Jane Granger. Hermione's parents.

Ron had never met them properly. He had, but that was before Hermione wiped their memories.

It had been for their safety. That's what she had always said. Muggle-borns were targets. The Death Eaters wanted them gone. Voldemort needed a way to ensure his scary image was maintained, hence the easiest way to induce terror and fear among the masses-

Death of innocent bystanders- to a measure that anyone would consider bowing before the maniac then raise voice against him.

9239- the number of magical deaths in the second blood war, this included the death eaters, centaurs, goblins, vampires- however small magical community, they had their share of deaths in the war.

98290- the number of muggle casualties, only and only muggle, human casualties. 

No words need be said.

And Hermione? Hermione had done what she always did—what was logical. What was necessary? In every way, she had saved her parents.

She'd made sure they wouldn't remember they ever had a daughter at all/

But that was years ago. And while obliviation can be undone, Ron was unsure even after coming to their door, that this was the right choice.

To remember them a daughter only to tell the daughter they raised had died.

Dan Granger opened the door, his expression cautious. His gaze flickered to the stranger at his doorstep.

"I noticed you standing there," he said. "It's been fifteen minutes… Is there a problem?"

Ron didn't answer. He had been silent since they arrived. He had no words, unknowing how to do this.

Hannah returned from the side of the house, adjusting the strap of her bag. One look at Ron's face and she knew. He hasn't gone through with it yet.

And he was asking her—without words, as words could not explain the neccessity, but at the same time they did—Is this really necessary?

Hannah wondered that too. But she could not say anything.

This was the choice between what was right and what was easy.

A second presence joined Dan at the door. Jane Granger.

Hannah pulled out her wand.

Dan and Jane tensed immediately scared of the unknown, taking cover behind the door, or they tried. But it was too late for them to react further.

Hannah flicked her wand. "Finite Obliviate."

The spell struck like a ripple in reality.

The Grangers' eyes widened, their pupil dilated, their bodies stiffened—then went limp as the magic took its toll. They collapsed to the floor, unconscious with a thud. 

Ron walked up to them, to pull them upon himself and carry them into the living room, before- laughter of a child.

"Heh-Heh-Heh- Uwaaa"

A small child waddled into view. Not older than two years, his tiny feet went ahead of his body, in a one-two fashion, balance unsteady. He jumped on the two unconscious bodies, thinking it was some kind of game.

Ron barely registered Hannah lowering her wand. Barely heard as she gasped.

Barely registered his own wand falling between his fingers.

Because his world had just narrowed down to the little boy.

Red hair.

Freckles.

A Weasley's face.

Brown eyes and larger front teeth.

Ron's blood ran cold.

He went numb, goosebumps as realization crashed over him.

He just lost another part of him in war while gaining a lot more.

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