Dumbledore asked to speak with him at one in the morning.
Not a request with context — simply a knock on the hospital wing door, where Ron had returned after the entrance hall, and Dumbledore's voice saying: 'Mr. Weasley. When you are ready.'
He was ready.
He had been ready for this conversation since October of second year. He had been thinking about it, refining it, deciding what he would say and what he would not say and what he would require before saying any of it. The night had clarified certain things — the Horcrux situation had changed, the timeline had changed, what was possible had changed — and those clarifications had adjusted the conversation's shape, but the core of it had been in place for two years.
Dumbledore's office.
He had been here a few times. The first few time in second year after the Chamber. Later in the third year, the conversation about Uganda and what he was building toward. And again the dinner conversation in March. All times the portraits had been awake and listening. Both times the space had been the headmaster's space in the full sense — Dumbledore's territory, Dumbledore's ambient authority.
Tonight he needed it to be different.
He entered and looked at the portraits. Around fifty former headmasters in their frames, some awake, some performing sleep, all listening with the quality of people who had been in this room for every significant conversation it had ever hosted.
He raised his wand and cast the freeze across all of them simultaneously. Not sleep — freeze. The specific charm that suspended magical portraits in their current state without harm, which he had found in a text from the Black library in February and had noted for this occasion. Fifty portraits went still.
Dumbledore watched this.
Then Ron built the Sound Barrier — not the training version, the full version, anchored to the room's walls and floor and ceiling with the ward-construction technique from March, the directional modifier incorporated so that nothing crossed the boundary in either direction. The room sealed.
Dumbledore looked at the portraits. At the Barrier. At Ron.
'You have been planning this conversation,' he said.
'For a long time' Ron said. 'The shape of it has changed along the way. The core of what I need to tell you has not.'
He sat down across the desk from Dumbledore, which was not where he had sat in the previous two conversations. He sat where the headmaster's equals sat when they came to speak with the headmaster on equal terms, because that was what this was.
'I need an oath before I begin,' he said. 'A magical oath, properly bound. That what I tell you in this room tonight will not be shared without my explicit permission, except in circumstances where sharing it would directly prevent loss of life — and in those circumstances I am the judge of whether the circumstances qualify, not you.'
Dumbledore looked at him. The benign mild expression was entirely gone. What was there instead was the older thing, attentive and direct.
'You are asking me to bind myself before you tell me what you are binding me to,' Dumbledore said.
'Yes,' Ron said. 'Because what I am about to tell you is the kind of information that changes the calculations of very intelligent people, and I need to know before I say it that your calculations are bounded by what I am willing to share.'
A pause. The sealed room was very quiet.
'Very well,' Dumbledore said.
He gave the oath. It had the quality of Dumbledore's speech in general — precisely worded, the implications considered, nothing casual in it. Ron listened to it carefully and nodded when it was complete.
'Thank you,' he said. 'Now.'
He began.
He did not tell Dumbledore about his previous life. This was the one thing he had decided, across two years of planning this conversation, to keep to himself — not from distrust, not from strategy, but from the specific sense that the mechanism of how he had arrived here was his and not the story's. What mattered was what he knew and what he intended to do with it. The how was his.
He told Dumbledore that he had come into possession of knowledge of a possible future timeline, which was accurate till present excluding the changes he had caused, and that the knowledge was specific and extensive, which was also accurate. He said he had been working from it since second year — the investments, the Room of Requirements, the training, the Wulfhall, all of it.
Dumbledore listened.
He told him about the Horcruxes.
He said the word plainly, because there was no way to approach it that was not worse than approaching it directly, and watched Dumbledore's face do something he had not seen Dumbledore's face do before — not the managed response, not the weight behind the benign mild expression, but the specific visible impact of a man receiving information that reordered everything he thought he understood about the last thirteen years.
'Eight pieces total. Seven horcruxes and the one inhabiting his new body,' Ron said. 'Originally. Voldemort split his soul into seven pieces. Six intentional. One accidental.' He paused. 'The accidental Horcrux was Harry.'
The silence lasted perhaps ten seconds.
'Was,' Dumbledore said.
'The Killing Curse in the graveyard tonight should have destroyed it,' Ron said. 'Harry survived because of his mother's sacrifice — the same protection that saved him the first time, which Voldemort inadvertently reinforced by taking Harry's blood for the resurrection ritual. But the Horcrux in Harry was destroyed by the Curse. Harry is no longer a Horcrux. He is simply a person Voldemort wants dead, which is a different and considerably more manageable problem.'
Dumbledore looked at him. 'You have known this since second year.'
'Yes.'
'That Harry carried a piece of Voldemort's soul.'
'Yes.'
'And you did not tell him.'
'No,' Ron said. 'Because the timeline I saw required Harry to die willingly in the Forbidden Forest in order to destroy the Horcrux. The only way that worked was if Harry didn't know until the moment came. I have been working to produce a different outcome — one where the Horcrux is destroyed without requiring Harry's death.' He looked at Dumbledore steadily. 'Tonight even though unplanned negated the need.'
Dumbledore was very still. Then Dumbledore said: 'The other Horcruxes.'
'Three destroyed,' Ron said. 'The diary — I destroyed it in the Chamber in second year with the Sword of Gryffindor. The locket — Regulus Black retrieved it from the cave Voldemort stored it in and Kreacher took it back to Grimmauld. I had Kreacher bring it to the Room of Requirements in third year and destroyed it there. Similarly Ravenclaws diadem found in the room of requirements also destroyed at the same time. The ring — Marvolo Gaunt's ring, which is also the Resurrection Stone, an object bound into the Deathly Hallows that you have been looking for since before I arrived at this school.' He looked at Dumbledore. 'Don't touch it with your bare hand. It has a withering curse on it that will kill you. Slowly and painfully.'
Dumbledore looked at him with an expression that had passed beyond surprise and arrived somewhere more like the quality of someone taking a very large inventory.
'Three destroyed,' he said. 'Three remaining.'
'The ring — which needs to be destroyed before it's touched,' Ron said. 'The Cup — Helga Hufflepuff's Cup, which is in Bellatrix Lestrange's vault at Gringotts. And Nagini — Voldemort's snake, which he has made into a Horcrux. Nagini needs to be killed last, or as close to last as possible, because she's also his primary weapon and her death might alert him.'
'And the seventh,' Dumbledore said.
'Voldemort himself,' Ron said. 'His own body is the seventh. That's why he's been so difficult to kill — the soul anchors prevent true death. Once the other Horcruxes are gone, a wizard of sufficient skill can and will kill him.'
Dumbledore sat back in his chair with the quality of someone who had just received the complete picture of a puzzle he had been assembling for decades and was reckoning with the shape of the complete picture.
'The prophecy,' he said.
'It should no longer be active,' Ron said. 'The prophecy's condition — neither can live while the other survives — was bound to the Horcrux connection. While Harry carried Voldemort's soul fragment, the condition was literally true. The Horcrux is gone. Harry is no longer the prophesied subject.' He paused. 'He is a person with a specific set of skills and relationships who has reason to oppose Voldemort. That's a meaningful thing, but it's not a prophecy. The difference matters.'
Dumbledore looked at him. 'How would you verify this?'
'Check the prophecy in the Department of Mysteries,' Ron said. 'The orb should be dark. A prophecy that has been fulfilled or rendered inert stops glowing.' He paused. 'You can send someone this week. I expect it will be dark.'
Another silence. Then: 'You said you have been working toward a different outcome. That tonight was the most necessary but unexpected step to that outcome.' Dumbledore looked at him directly. 'What is the outcome you are working toward?'
'Voldemort dead by the end of next year,' Ron said. 'Not driven off. Not disembodied again. Dead, permanently, without any of the soul anchors remaining to allow another resurrection.' He met Dumbledore's gaze. 'I believe it's possible. The ritual he performed tonight was specific — the use of Harry's blood incorporated the protection Lily Potter placed into Harry, which means Voldemort can now harm Harry but also anchored Harry to this existence. Combined with the destruction of the remaining Horcruxes, which I intend to complete before September, Voldemort can be killed with sufficient magical skill. The question is assembling a force with said skill.'
'You are fifteen years old,' Dumbledore said.
'I am aware,' Ron said. 'I am also aware of what I am capable of and what the year ahead requires. I have been building toward this for two and a half years. I need your knowledge of the Horcruxes — the ring specifically, which needs to be destroyed without triggering the curse, and you have access to the relevant expertise through people like Nicholas Flamel. I need the Order, properly organised, with accurate intelligence rather than reactive response. And I need you to understand that I am not asking your permission for any of this. I am offering to work with you because working together is more effective than working in parallel.'
Dumbledore looked at him for a very long moment.
Then he reached forward, and Ron felt the specific quality of a Legilimency attempt — the probe at the edges of his mind, subtle, the way only a master Legilimens attempted it: not a battering-ram but a question.
He pushed back.
Not subtly. He pushed back with the full force of two and a half years of Occlumency and the specific outrage of someone whose private things were being accessed without consent, and the push carried his wand with it in the same motion — a non-verbal Expelliarmus that had been practiced since third year for exactly this hypothetical and which left him holding the Elder Wand.
It was — not like other wands. He had held wands that were powerful. He had held wands that were precise. The Elder Wand was both of these things and something else, something that was more like alignment than amplification — the specific quality of a tool that recognised a user rather than merely accepting one.
He looked at it for a moment.
Then he held it out to Dumbledore.
Dumbledore looked at the wand in Ron's hand. He did not take it.
'You know what that is,' Dumbledore said.
'Yes,' Ron said.
'You know what the allegiance changing means.'
'I know what it means in theory,' Ron said. 'I prefer my hawthorn. I would give it back but I don't think you would take it.'
'I cannot,' Dumbledore said. He had the specific quality of someone saying something that cost something to say. 'The allegiance has changed. A wand does not unmake that allegiance because its new master prefers something else.' He looked at the wand with an expression that was — complicated. 'The Elder Wand belongs to the witch or wizard who has mastered its previous owner. You disarmed me. The allegiance is yours.'
'I don't want the Deathly Hallows,' Ron said.
'I know,' Dumbledore said. 'That is, perhaps, exactly why you should have it.' A pause. 'Keep it, Mr Weasley. There will come a moment when it matters that you have it.'
Ron looked at the wand in his hand.
He put it in his holster. He did not like this, and he was going to think carefully about what it meant, and he would return to the conversation. But the night had already been very long and there was more to cover.
'The Legilimency,' he said. 'Don't do that again.'
'No,' Dumbledore said. He had the quality of someone who had done something and was not going to defend it but was not going to pretend it hadn't happened. 'I apologise. The temptation to understand how you know what you know was — considerable.'
'The how is mine for now,' Ron said. 'The what is what I've told you. Work with the what.'
'Yes,' Dumbledore said. 'Alright.'
'The ring,' Ron said. 'I need you to go with Snape and Moody — the real Moody, who will need recovery time but who should be operational within the month — to get it from the Gaunt shack in Little Hangleton. I will give you the exact location. The curse on the ring is a withering curse bound to the ring — it activates on contact with skin. Snape knows enough Dark Arts theory to identify the binding. Moody is paranoid enough to keep you out of danger. Get them both involved before anyone touches it.'
Dumbledore nodded.
'The Cup,' Ron continued. 'Bellatrix Lestrange's vault at Gringotts. This is the most logistically complex of the remaining Horcruxes. I have a plan for it. I'll brief you before end of term.'
'And Nagini.'
'Nagini is killed last,' Ron said. 'She'll be with Voldemort. Killing her before we're in the position to deal with Voldemort himself will alert him that we know about the Horcruxes, unless it is an accident. She stays until the final confrontation.'
Dumbledore absorbed this. 'You said you believe Voldemort can be killed by the end of next year. How?'
'That's the year's work. I'm hoping next year's training and rituals help me reach near your power level. Combined with your skill and the Orders it should be enough.'
'The Order,' Dumbledore said.
'Needs to be reformed,' Ron said. 'Properly, with current intelligence rather than the last war's. I have maps — Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, the Ministry — that I'll provide. I have intelligence on Voldemort's likely movements and priorities in the next twelve months. I need the Order to be organized around the specific threats rather than operating reactively.'
He paused.
'I am also offering the Wulfhall as headquarters,' he said. 'A property on the outskirts of London. Four acres, eleven bedrooms, warded by a professional warder to my specifications. It is not as historically significant as Grimmauld Place but it is considerably more functional, and I own it outright, which means there are no complications of the kind that Grimmauld's inheritance structure involves. It will however require a fidelius cast with you as secret keeper if you choose to accept'
Dumbledore looked at him. 'You bought a house.'
Easter holidays,' Ron said. 'I had been planning for the need since second year but had to wait till I made enough money.'
'You are fifteen years old,' Dumbledore said again, with a slightly different quality than the previous time — not astonishment, something more like a man recalibrating what fifteen meant.
'People keep telling me,' Ron said. 'You can come and look at it. Bring Sirius if you like.
Dumbledore was quiet for a moment. 'The alchemy memories,' he said. 'You mentioned Nicholas Flamel. You are aware that I have had access to his personal research.'
Ron looked at him. 'Yes.'
'And you know the relevance of that research to the Horcrux problem.'
'I know what Flamel's work on the Philosopher's Stone documented about soul-splitting and its reversal,' Ron said. 'I know that the reversal theory was considered unworkable in the standard application but might be applicable to specific steps in the Horcrux destruction sequence.' He paused. 'I would be grateful for access to the relevant memories, if Flamel is willing to share them.'
'I will ask him,' Dumbledore said.
'And the Grindelwald duelling memories,' Ron said. 'The 1945 duel specifically. Not the complete record — the specific twenty minutes that document the moment when you found the approach that worked against an opponent of that calibre. I have been preparing for a confrontation at that level and I want to understand what it required.'
Dumbledore looked at him with the expression he had shown in March, — the hundred-and-twenty-year-old man who had been waiting for specific kinds of people and had found, in this unlikely configuration, something he had not fully expected.
'Those are private memories,' Dumbledore said.
'Yes,' Ron said. 'I am asking anyway.'
A silence.
'I will consider it,' Dumbledore said, which from Dumbledore Ron had learned to understand as yes, with conditions I have not yet determined.
'Thank you,' Ron said.
He released the Sound Barrier. He un-froze the portraits. They came back to life — Phineas Nigellus looking immediately suspicious, Dilys Derwent blinking — and the room was the headmaster's office again, ambient and watched, with all its ordinary weight of history.
He stood.
'Get some sleep, Professor,' he said. 'Tomorrow is going to be a long day.'
'Yes,' Dumbledore said. He was looking at the frozen wand position of his predecessor Armando Dippet, who had come back to life mid-gesture and was now completing it with the slightly confused quality of a portrait that had missed something. 'Mr. Weasley.'
'Yes.'
'Thank you,' Dumbledore said. 'For what you did tonight. For what you have been doing since second year.' He paused. 'For Harry.
Ron looked at him. 'He's a good friend,' he said. 'This is what I should do.'
He went back to the hospital wing.