Chapter Text
What if, after Amrod died in the fire, he was reincarnated into the Harry Potter world as Ron Weasley?
Amrod never expected that one day he would awaken in a strange world after dying in the fire. At first, he thought it was nothing more than a dream—or perhaps a punishment from Námo for the Kinslayings. The Halls of Mandos were not meant to be kind, after all. He assumed this was merely another trial, one he would soon wake from.
However, after several days had passed, a horrible truth slowly began to sink in.
This was not a dream.
He had been reincarnated into a world far removed from Eru Ilúvatar, a place where the Song did not echo and the air did not hum with creation. Even worse, he was no longer an Elf. He was not even a Man.
He was something else entirely.
An Istar.
The realization left him reeling. Amrod—son of Fëanor, once a prince of the Noldor—now lived in the body of a red-haired boy named Ron Weasley.
Ron regained his memories of being Amrod during his second year at school, when a rogue Snitch struck him square in the head as he stood in the stands cheering for Harry. Pain, darkness, and then fire—followed by centuries of memories crashing down all at once.
At first, he was in denial.
Then, with grim acceptance, he came to terms with it.
He found it bitterly ironic that even in this new life, he still belonged to a red-and-gold house. Gryffindor’s colors stirred complicated feelings in him, reminding him far too much of things he had lost.
Now, he was stuck playing the role of Ron Weasley.
He had to act as expected—complain about homework, argue with Hermione, support Harry, and behave like the loud, emotional boy everyone believed him to be. Any sudden change would be suspicious. Still, it felt strange, almost humiliating, like pretending to be a child when he had already lived and died once before.
One thing, however, was certain.
Ron—Amrod held an immediate vendetta against Dumbledore, whom he privately regarded as a cheap imitation of a Dark Lord with far too much cheerfulness. He also found himself irrationally irritated by that flirtatious boy from Slytherin who kept flirting with him which embarrassing and annoying.
Unfortunately for him, Amrod failed to realize that people had begun to notice the changes.
After all… how could it possibly be that simple? Life—or fate—was never kind enough to allow that.
Amrod: Oh……
Amrod: This is just a dream… right?
Amrod: Maybe a nightmare. Or a punishment from Námo, right?
Amrod: Right?
Amrod: ………… right??
Amrod: ……
Amrod: ……
Amrod: Oh my Eru Ilúvatar!!!!!