1 Chapter 1 - I'm Ronald Weasley?

[ Detroit, Michigan, United States - 04/14/1990]

In an old house, falling apart, a miracle happened in the midst of a terrible rain. Next to dripping rainwater into a small bucket, Charlie Smith was finally born. He had piercing black eyes and dark hair with small curls. Charlie was the son of Douglas and Erica, an extremely poor couple. He would also be the eldest of 3 siblings yet to be born.

Charlie's life was never easy, but with each passing year, his life got worse. Douglas was a terrible man. From the first moment of Charlie's life, he had despised the man as he watched him: smoking a cigarette, leaning against the wall, watching Erica suffer from the birth of the baby. And after all she had gone through up to that point, the only thing he did was scoop up the child to analyze him.

"You're lucky he looks like me."

He then walked out the door while Erica cried in a mixture of relief and rage, only to return the next day.

Douglas constantly threatened Charlie's mother with name calling and physical aggression. Charlie could never face it, since his father was a tower of a man, and he always beat him too.

Erica had nowhere to run. She didn't have a family. When she was younger, she ended up getting involved with drugs, which made her parents kick the girl out of the house. So Douglas found her and decided that she would be his dog.

After Charlie's last sibling was born, Douglas found another woman, and one day he just left the house and never came back. Erica, who already had several psychological problems, finally tried to get a job, as Douglas had never let her work, but nobody wanted to hire a drug addict. This made her depression worse.

Charlie ended up dropping out of school to help his mother support his siblings. The role of 'man of the house' was passed on to him, even if he didn't want it. He was only 13 years old.

He worked as a helper at a bakery close to his neighborhood, where the baker always gave him a few extra loaves of bread to help little Charlie. Weeks later, the eldest of Charlie's three siblings appeared at the bakery, in tears, desperate. She was only 10 years old.

"Bub, you need to go home. Mom is not well."

Upon arriving at the old house where they lived, Charlie found Erica lying on the floor, passed out. He already knew what had happened, but he didn't want to believe it. His eyes were full of tears. As he approached, some capsules of some type of drug caught his attention. His mother's body was freezing cold.

Charlie backed away from Erica's lifeless body. He tried to hold back his tears so his younger siblings wouldn't see, but he was just a kid. Tears began streaming down his face without stopping as he hugged his brothers, not knowing what to do.

Months passed, and Charlie was no longer working at the bakery. He needed to earn a lot more money than he was making there in order to be able to help his siblings.

Charlie spent the afternoon stealing small belongings from stores and people. Most of the time, he wasn't seen, but sometimes he ended up having to run away from guards so he wouldn't be beaten until he passed out. For them, they figured that was how the police dealt with "those types of people."

It started with petty theft and then, as the years went by, it evolved into burglaries, and then drugs, and unfortunately, he got into things he shouldn't have. Charlie ended up getting involved in selling drugs to a gang, stealing most of their drugs in the process. Of course, he was caught in just under 2 days, but it still ended up being a lot of work for the gang's henchmen.

He would be executed by shooting him in the head.

"Wait! Boy, how old are you?"

A tall man, with a burgundy suit and a luxurious cane approached while his men held Charlie by both arms, making him kneel on the floor.

"16, sir!"

The man held out his cane, lifting Charlie's face.

"Let him go."

From that day on, Charlie would have the opportunity of a new life. The man who spared him saw potential in Charlie. He gave him two options: Either Charlie would agree to go with the man, abandoning all the life he had, or Charlie would be killed.

So, Charlie was now known to mobsters as 'Dwight'. The most feared man in the state trained the boy to become the best assassin in the region. The only purpose the man saw in Dwight was to be his private hitman, executing everyone he had a score with which to settle.

This caused Dwight to lose empathy for others. The blood he saw weekly, along with severed heads and lifeless bodies, made his expression go from a hopeful look to a cold look as he developed a troubled mind. But on the other hand, he was the best assassin in the state, earning tens of thousands of dollars per murder.

Dwight was in no way able to get in direct touch with his family, but, unknown to the man who had plucked him from death, he sent a large portion of his money monthly to his siblings, praying that they would manage to survive on their own.

Isolated from the ordinary world, Dwight amused himself by watching fantasy movies. Even if his life could be better now, living in a luxury apartment, surrounded by drinks and prostitutes, he preferred to save more than half of the money he received to send to his younger siblings, making him live a mediocre life, but much more comfortable than before.

His favorite movies were the Harry Potter franchise. He believed that with magic, the course of his life could have been different; he could have taken care of his family without too much trouble.

What most instigated Dwight's curiosity about Harry Potter was the creation of potions. In a long period of his criminal life, Dwight was responsible for the production of drugs, increasing knowledge for every hallucinogenic and destructive effect they could cause, but it was always something limited. In the world of Harry Potter, potions seemed like drugs; people there could create whatever they wanted freely.

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- Dwight, 27 years old -

"Wake up! I need you to go after this guy for me."

The man tapped a sheet of paper on the table to wake Dwight, who was sleeping on the table in the living room after spending the night drinking cheap liquor.

"Who is he?"

He took the sheet in his hand, rising from his chair.

"Does not matter. He stole something that's mine and I want it back. I need his head in my office by tomorrow. Don't fail!"

The man walked out the door, slamming it hard.

Hours later, Dwight was at the scene, along with some of the man's henchmen. The place was a favela, similar to the one Dwight lived in. That left him with a storm in his mind.

They sneaked around through the place. Dwight didn't want to go in shooting, because he knew there were innocent families living there.

Unfortunately, their presence was noticed by the bosses of the enemy gang. A shootout broke out. Dwight tried to run down the narrow flights of stairs to find the main enemy boss, while he saw his partners being hit by glancing bullets, which did not kill, but hurt. With every step, the voice of one of his brothers stunned Dwight's mind. He had the feeling of having gone back in time.

Silently, he managed to enter the would-be thief's hideout. There was a young boy. He looked to be around 16 - 17 years old, very thin, with black, straight hair, same as Dwight. He was scared, wide-eyed, almost in tears, and clearly he had never stared death in the face before.

"LET'S GO GET IT! LET'S GO! LET'S GO!"

Dwight was screaming at the boy to hand over what was stolen. He pointed the gun at the boy's head, watching the boy's trembling hands reach down slowly to take what he wanted. Dwight wasn't going to kill the kid; he wasn't the man in the photo.

"Bub?" a childish voice spoke.

A little boy, about 5 years old, appeared at the door. Apparently he was looking for his older brother.

The memory of Dwight's brother penetrated his head at the same moment, causing Dwight to receive a ton of memories from his mind, freezing him.

"What?"

Dwight looked away, transfixed. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the shivering boy taking a gun from his waistband and firing it in his direction. Normally, that would have doomed the boy's fate, but the voices of Dwight's brother screamed in his mind, causing him to freeze.

*BANG BANG*

He felt two bullets hit his chest, watching his vision go dark, and Dwight was killed by the frightened boy.

[Limbo, Frontier of Hell - ??/??/????]

"Charlie Smith, 27 years. Single, without children. No parents. Three siblings. Gang member. Doesn't like peas. Allergic to chestnuts."

"He was not a very good man…".

"But his motives… He needed to protect his younger siblings from the fierce world. Sent more than half of his money so they could grow up happy, even though Charlie didn't see them."

"It caused his good karma to multiply. Even with all the crimes he committed, he single-handedly raised three amazing children, or rather, three amazing adults now. Let's see about them…"

"The youngest brother is finishing law school. He's a kind boy who does community work for underprivileged children.

"The other brother became a great programmer, collaborating with technological advances in medicine. His project has already managed to save thousands of people with a rare disease called lupus.

"The sister became a famous doctor for discovering the cure for diabetes, saving millions of people. Now she has a 2-year-old adopted son named Charlie."

"Thanks to his good deed, thousands of people were left alive. How amazing is the butterfly effect, hmm?"

"Blessed be Charlie! As a reward for empathizing with such a painful life, I will bless him with another opportunity."

"Good luck, kid!"

[The Burrow, Devon, England- 01/07/1991]

"Pick his nose!"

"With what? With the wand?"

"No, not with the wand! He has snot up his nose."

"Ew, how disgusting!".

"What if we use 'his' wand?"

"Haha, good idea."

Some annoying voices echoed in Charlie's head.

He opened his eyes, dazed, feeling something catch his breath.

"HE WOKE UP?"

"SHHHHH! RUN!"

The blurred vision didn't let him see perfectly, but he saw two teenagers with red hair running out of the room.

Dwight, no, Charlie got up from the uncomfortable bed and took in the scenery. He was in an old wooden house with cheap old furniture. The tones of orange and woody red prevailed throughout the room, along with some trinkets hanging from the ceiling and closets.

He was much smaller than he remembered; either that, or the furniture was much larger. So he walked over to a small mirror hanging on the wall and felt his body go cold. His body was small and like a 10 year old. His skin was pale as snow. His eyes were big and round and bright blue. His hair was straight and auburn, and a small potato nose graced his face.

Charlie Smith was now Ronald Weasley.

Ron felt his body shiver. He was inside his favorite movie, and had become a future member of the golden trio. A surge of happiness and confusion dominated his body at that moment.

"RONALD? DID YOU FINALLY WAKE UP?"

An irritating but adult female voice called from downstairs. The voice was distant, but it started to get closer.

A short, red-haired woman, wearing a dress made from some old rags, appeared in the doorway of Ron's room. It was Molly Weasley, Ron's mother.

"Ron, I'm glad you're okay!"

Molly walked quickly over to Ron, smothering him with a hug.

"You're not going to touch that wand again before school starts!"

Ron looked where Molly's finger was pointing. There was a thin wooden wand, the handle a little thicker than the tip, surrounded by magic books.

"All good."

Molly looked irritated. Normally, Ron would show frustration at being punished, so seeing that he didn't care about it irked her.

"All good? Why… I should ground you for more days just for that affront!"

But right after saying the sentence, she calmed down and gave him a worried look.

"At least you're okay. Let me see your head. You were only out for a few hours."

Molly said, looking for a bruise on his head as he stood still still.

"Let's go! The coffee is ready."

She added, patting him on the head.

Ron came down the endless stairs right behind Molly. He went down four floors and finally reached the kitchen. Each floor has a messy room, with a visual pollution of colors.

Upon reaching the first floor, he came across a table full of food, his brothers seated all around it. The food wasn't anything extraordinary, but they looked appetizing.

Looking around, he could see dishes washing themselves, sweaters being knitted without any help, and brooms dancing back and forth across the floor, cleaning the house.

Ron sat in one of the chairs, next to a small girl. Ginny Weasley. She had straight, shoulder-length red hair, and must have been between 9 and 10 years old.

Ginny was swinging her legs in the chair. She looked energetic that morning.

On the other side of the table, there were two teenagers who were identical twins, with very short hair and a lighter shade of red than the others. George Weasley and Fred Weasley.

They must have been between 13 and 14 years old, and were devouring some homemade rolls. They constantly poked each other as a provocation, but it was clear that there was no malice between the two.

Beside them, a young man of about 16, 17 years old, was sitting reading a book. He wore a more serious expression on his face. Percy Weasley.

At the left end of the table, a tall, fat man sat reading a newspaper while eating a scone. Arthur Weasley.

The newspaper the man was holding had images that played like short videos over and over again, but on a sheet of paper. Ron stared at the images on the paper, a little impressed. Then, he noticed that in the newspaper, there was the date July 1st. If he was right, that meant classes would start in about 2 months. That was enough time for Ron to evolve his spells enough to be more prepared.

"What are you looking at?"

One of the twins looked at Ron, pointing a finger smeared with strawberry jam.

Ron looked at George but said nothing.

"What's up? Are you offended by the wand?"

He asked, sticking a sticky finger in his mouth.

"That wasn't even a big deal. We really wanted to put in a worm."

Fred said with his mouth full of muffins, spitting out some crumbs.

"Don't tell him that! It will give away our idea."

George nudged Fred, trying to get him to be quiet.

"STOP IT ALREADY! These stupid pranks are still going to hurt someone. You're both old enough to know that. Why don't you care about studies? How do you want to work in the ministry like that?"

Molly began to scold the brothers angrily.

"We don't want to work in the ministry!"

The two responded in unison, leaving Molly stunned for a few seconds.

"And what are they going to do? Live under my wing forever?

"We're going to start a joke shop."

Fred replied, not caring.

"A joke shop? This is rubbish! You need to think big. The ministry is so much better for you. And wipe that mess off of your faces."

Molly said, throwing rags into the hands of the twin brothers, who didn't listen to her words about the ministry. Sullenly, they picked up the rags and wiped their own mouths.

After eating some cookies, Ron quietly got up from the table and went to his room. Nobody seemed to notice his departure, which made it easier for him since he did not have to explain himself.

Upon reaching his room, Ron noticed the wand again, next to the spell books. Molly forgot to hide it, believing that only a scolding would stop Ron from messing around anymore, which was strange since she knew her own son.

He walked over to the shelf and held his wand in one hand. It wasn't heavy, but it wasn't as light as he thought it would be either.

Memories of Ron's old spells flooded back into his mind as soon as he touched the wand, meaning he didn't need to study the basics again.

Based on Ron's memories, nothing interesting would happen today, so Ron decided to study other spells.

He took one of the books from the shelf and sat on the bed. Ron started flipping through the pages of the book. The book had an old smell and some scribbles on the pages. Probably, those books had belonged to Ron's brothers in the other years and now, in order not to spend more money, the books were passed to Ron.

The writings of the book were different. They didn't look like an ordinary school textbook. It was full of strange symbols and words that a Muggle couldn't read, but with Ron's memories, it was very familiar to him.

Ron spent all day reading and gaining knowledge, only stopping to eat meals but not interacting with the family. Family bonding wasn't as interesting to him compared to the vast knowledge he could acquire now.

"What are you doing?"

Ginny appeared suddenly in the bedroom doorway. She had a mixture of confusion expressed on her face.

"I'm reading."

Ron replied, not taking his eyes off his book.

"I don't think I've ever seen you this close to a book in my entire life."

Ginny bounced over to Ron's bed facing him, who continued reading the book, ignoring her presence.

"Aren't you going to curse me? Or send me away?

"Do you want me to do that?"

Ron looked at her seriously.

"Hmph! You're acting weird. You must have hit your head really hard."

She sulked and turned to leave the room.

"What happened, by the way? I can't remember what happened."

Ron asked, curious.

"You were playing with your wand on some rocks in the backyard. You had told me that you had learned a new spell, but then you got scared by a bug, fell and passed out.".

Ginny said, with a ironic smile.

'It doesn't surprise me.'

Ron thought.

He nodded, indicating that he understood, and Ginny skipped out of the room, bouncing around with a hint of mischief on her face.

The night was coming and Ron started to feel sleepy. His room was on the top of the 5 floors, so hardly anyone showed up to disturb him, apart from Ginny.

Watching the night take over his room as a single light from an old lantern illuminated his book, he resolved to get a good night's sleep after a day of studying.