Ron dangled the time-turner in his hands as he thought about how fortunate he was. What Hermione was doing with a spare one at the time, he figured he would never know. Perhaps some mysteries were better left unravelled, at least for the time being. Shrouded in the dark of the evening, Ron stood on a hill just outside the school.

He wanted to go way, way back in time. He wanted to go to a time where the Weasley name wasn't looked down upon. He wanted to go to a time where he would be appreciated. In his family, being the last of a string of boys, he had always felt invisible. The two oldest, Charlie and Bill, were the first ones to do everything, and they were noticed for that. Percy was the angel (or prat, depending on your perspective) of the family, and he was noticed for that. The twins had no trouble being noticed at every turn. Ron, on the other hand, felt he had nothing going for him. He was tired of being the side-kick for the Boy-Who-Lived.

It wasn't just his recent disagreement with Harry that made him want to turn back time, though that was the straw that broke the camel's back. Just think of how brilliant he would be thought, since he knew the secrets of the future! He would be able to make just the right decisions to influence himself and those around him into making good choices. Heck, he could even change time a little bit, improve the world some.

It would serve Harry right if he went back in time and made something of himself. Harry got where he was by being born into it. Ron, on the other hand, was going to actually do something to earn his fame. He was going to regret leaving Hermione though. That was his one emotional tie to the present time, Ron thought. But he didn't think that even she appreciated him. She would be happier with someone else, wouldn't she? She probably wouldn't even notice that he was missing. Sure, maybe she'd be sad for a few days, and then she would get over it.

He began to spin the time turner back as fast as it would go, and he kept spinning for a long time. He wasn't even sure how long it was in his own linear timeline. All he knew was that when he finally stopped turning, it was the middle of the day, and Hogwarts looked much, much younger.

Ron quickly ran to the edge of the woods and hid himself until he could find out when he was and think of more of a plan. It suddenly dawned on him just how unprepared he was. Silently, he cursed jumping into this with both feet. All in all, though, he wasn't too upset with the situation even as it was. It was just another adventure. Life and death, adventures. That was how a Gryffindor was supposed to think of it.

A month later, Ron was in his fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and he was studying like mad. One would have thought he was another version of Hermione. But if he wanted to make something of himself, this was what he had to do.

After wandering around for a few days, Ron stumbled on an old wizarding mansion. He knocked on the door, and told a line about being thrown out of his half-blood home by his Muggle mother for being so good at magic. His drunken father had done nothing to stop it.

Naturally, the woman of the house had taken pity on him, cold, wet and with a heart-wrenching tale. She introduced herself as Mrs. Dumbledore. Ron's ears picked up at that.

"Do you have children?" he quickly asked.

"Two," she replied, and then she smiled, mistaking his eagerness as interest in a family. "Three, now. Aberforth and Ariana. And you. What's your name?" She gestured Ron through the door and he gratefully stepped into the warm foyer.

"Albus," he said immediately.

"It's a sign from heaven," Mrs. Dumbledore sighed. "All three of my children will have names beginning with A."

Or at least, that was how Ron remembered it. Looking back, he wondered if Mrs. Dumbledore had really been that anxious to take him in, or if that was really him wanting to be taken in that badly.

Ron sighed as he poured over his books, studying history, family trees, arithmancy, runes, potions, and transfiguration. He was legally Albus Dumbledore now, having been adopted by the old, pureblood family. Since the Dumbledores had always been a quiet family, his presence in their ranks had largely gone unnoticed. What was another child? For once, Ron was grateful for this invisibility. To those who did scrutinize, Albus had been the son of Mrs. Dumbledore's step-sister who had fallen ill, and they had taken him in as their own, even going as far as to make it legal.

Wearily, Ron rubbed his left leg. His scar, which happened to be a perfect map of the London underground which wouldn't be built for some years yet, seemed to be particularly itchy that day. It was the scar he'd gotten when he hurt his leg in the Shrieking Shack. His line of thoughts paused. He sighed again and felt a sense of longing when he thought of Harry and Hermione, especially Hermione. He had spent the last month telling himself that Harry deserved whatever fate would hand out. He was rich, (or would be). He was famous, (or would be). He was loved, (or would be).

(Ron would swear he wasn't trying to distract himself from regretting his decision.) He missed the sweats. There were any number of confectionaries which hadn't been invented yet. He even missed Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Yes, even though he lost his taste for those particular treats after the twins gave him a vomit flavored one, he still wished for some of the familiarities of his own time. And Every Flavor Beans wouldn't even be invented until 1935! That was - what? - 38 years from when he was? He'd be an adult before they got around to inventing the staple of every wizard's youth!

Ron delved back into his studies. OWLs were coming up, and he was determined to do well on them.

He was an adult now. He had performed excellently in his school career and earned a name for himself, as Albus Dumbledore no less. He had long since put the name of "Ronald Weasley" behind him, not even signing it once upon his arrival in the past. Overall, Albus considered himself happy. Every so often, he would feel a pang of guilt about his decision to turn back time, but that was getting rarer and rarer.

He was a transfiguration teacher at Hogwarts now. It actually pleased him greatly, and he was surprised at that, but being a teacher at Hogwarts did have a way of getting him name recognition. He was always especially good with the children, and often matters of utmost delicacy were delegated to him. Matters such as visiting a certain Tom Riddle in an orphanage.

Albus was more than a little wary of Tom Riddle. This was the boy who would become Voldemort. He would kill hundreds of people, tear families apart, and torture innocents to madness. He wanted to kill the little cretin before he ever made it to Hogwarts.

Albus stopped himself right there. Riddle hadn't done anything yet. What if he could be redeemed? It would be a terrible thing to kill a child against something he hadn't even done yet. Time wasn't written in stone. Things could be changed. That was one of his goals, wasn't it? To make the world a better place? What better a thing could he do than to save the most powerful dark wizard of all time from going dark in the first place?

Of course, he would still be wary of the boy. Tom Riddle was known for being a charismatic leader, if Albus remembered what he had learned in his future days accurately. But that wouldn't stop him from trying to save Tom. He would save Tom. That was his mission, and he would do it. He was Albus Dumbledore. And Albus Dumbledore could do anything he wanted, because Albus Dumbledore was rich, famous, and loved. Right?

Several years later, still a trusted faculty member at Hogwarts, still loved among the students, Albus sat up late with a small Gryffindor girl. She was crying her eyes out and he was doing his best to comfort her. Seventh year girls crying still unnerved him more than a little bit.

"Minerva, I'm so sorry," he comforted her softly. "I never thought it would happen this way." Minerva sobbed once or twice and shook her head as she hiccuped.

"He was so nice," she sobbed, throwing her arms around her favorite professor. "He said he loved me. He said he would always be there for me. He said we would get married as soon as we graduated."

"Everything will be alright," he soothed her.

"What am I going to do now?" Minerva continued to sob, covering her face with her hands. "It was only once. I wanted to make Tom happy. I'm not ready to have a baby! Everyone will hate me."

"And Tom doesn't want to get married now?" Albus asked. "You're both seventeen. There may be some talk since you're both in school, but you could effectively stop most of it."

"Tom wants nothing to do with me or the baby," Minerva cried miserably. "I'm all alone now. I'm afraid for him, sir. Tom is turning darker and darker, and I hoped that if I just loved him enough he wouldn't get any more involved in the dark arts."

"Minerva," Albus said softly, "I can help you. You've always wanted to study abroad. I can arrange for you to stay with a family in France for a few months. You can put the baby up for adoption, and no one need know about this, other than you, Tom, and myself."

"I want my baby raised in England," she insisted.

"I can arrange for that," Albus assured her. "I can even ensure that your baby is given to a wizarding family. Past that, it's up to chance, though."

"Thank you so much, sir," Minerva sobbed one last time, giving Albus a quick hug before she left.

Years passed, and some things changed and some things didn't. Albus was the Headmaster of Hogwarts and Tom Riddle had declared himself Lord Voldemort. Albus cursed himself for having been foolish enough to believe that the boy could be saved. He cursed himself for encouraging a relationship between Tom and Minerva. He vowed to ensure that history would not repeat itself. He would do whatever it took to ensure that history changed. Whatever it took.

Lily Evans, a brilliant Muggleborn, was of particular interest to Albus. Not only because he knew her to be Harry Potter's future mother, but she reminded him of Hermione. Genius. Muggleborn. Fiery red hair, and a temper to match. Needless to say, Albus was fond of her.

What he wasn't so fond of was her fondness for Severus Snape. It was only their third year, but they were inseparable. Albus had always treated Snape with a certain coldness, turning a blind eye to any of the pranks or more nefarious actions committed against him. Lily didn't though. The two seemed to only grow closer with time.

Some time later, Albus realized what an opportunity this was. Here was an opportunity to change history. Harry Potter was the son of James Potter and Lily Evens. If he blessed the relationship which Lily and Snape were bound to have if things continued as swimmingly as they were now, there would be no Harry Potter. He would have ensured a digression from the history books! Perhaps it could even result in Voldemort being brought down before the end of the first war.

And so Albus did just that. Subtlety, he encouraged those two students to spend time together. Eventually, his patience paid off. No sooner were they out of school when the two of them came to him asking to be married quietly, with as little ceremony as possible. Albus was pleased with this outcome. He had fulfilled his purpose.

A good ten months after the wedding, Lily told him of her pregnancy. Albus smiled to himself, satisfied.

But his satisfaction didn't last long. He was a good strategist - his chess abilities proved that - and this chess game was going rather badly, all things considering. He needed an intelligence from Voldemort's front lines. Few had the nerve to stand up to Voldemort like Albus did. None would even say his name. But Albus remembered a childhood friend of his who explained that fear of the name led to fear of the thing, and Albus swore to always use his chosen name.

Regrettably, though, Snape wasn't a Death Eater. He had failed to save the boy he tried, and saved the boy he didn't care about. But he needed a spy and Snape turned him down, naturally. That left him with little choice but to deceive Lily and alter Snape's memories, and what better than to replace it with than the old timeline? And so Albus did just that.

He arranged for Lily to marry James as a cover. It honestly didn't matter if Lily and James were "officially" married. The child was Snape's, not James'.

Then, about five months later, Harry Potter was born, and Albus cursed his plans again. Lily and James, after having thrice defied Voldemort, were killed, leaving young Harry an orphan.

Albus racked his brain for what he knew about his former friend's background. But terrible things happen to wizards who meddle with time, and Albus was gradually forgetting what he had once known to be true. Harry was loved. He remembered that. What better, then, to change history than to place him with his wizard hating relatives? Surely that would change history somehow.

And so, despite Minerva's objections, he left Harry Potter on the Dursleys' doorstep, and didn't check in for the next ten years. His plan was still going to be successful.

Harry Potter's first year was upon him, and Albus knew it was safe to place the Philosopher's Stone and Mirror of Erised in the school. No one had been hurt previously - or was it in the future? - and history hadn't changed that much.

Albus was generally saddened when he looked in the Mirror. Instead of seeing himself as Head Boy and winning the House Cup, (both of which he had gotten), he now saw himself with socks. Molly Weasley's hand knitted socks.

In some ways, Albus was still frustrated that history hadn't changed more. He relied on the fact that he knew Harry wasn't a Potter, but really a Snape.

In Harry Potter's second year, he wasn't concerned for Harry's welfare. Either way, his mission would be satisfied. History had already been changed, but if the Boy-Who-Lived was killed on one of his expeditions, then it would only serve to further cement his success.

Things still progressed as Albus remembered them. But Harry wasn't a Potter. He was a Snape.

Third year came, and Albus knew Sirius Black was innocent. With everything that had happened after the Potters' deaths, Albus had to prioritize. He had prioritized placing Harry with the Dursleys, and in turn, hadn't been able to save Sirius from Azkaban. But knowing he was innocent, Albus was quite easily "persuaded" of this fact.

Everything happened as Albus remembered it. Except that Harry wasn't a Potter, but rather, a Snape.

In fourth year, Albus had begun to relax. Things were changed and they would stay changed. He stepped back from his usual meddling and began to sit back and watched things happen.

He watched Cedric die. And that was when Albus decided it was time to start trying to meddle again, because innocent people were still dying, and Voldemort and returned.

Apparently, Harry really being a Snape wasn't enough to stop the fourth year tragedies.

When the summer came, Albus instructed Ron and Hermione not to write to Harry. Things needed to change, and things needed to change drastically, and soon. When the school year started, Albus began avoiding Harry's eyes. He was surprised to admit that he felt a little guilty about what he had done to Harry by interfering like that.

It had to be done though. That was a key part in his motivation for time turning in the first place. Now, his priority was placed on setting himself up to start the loop over again.

It startled Albus to realize that once that evening came, a couple weeks into the 1995 school year, he would have no future knowledge of events. It was a good thing he had changed history when he could. After then, he would be flying blind.