Summary: So basically this is just a bunch of little tiny one-shot what ifs. Nothing plot changing in any major or even minor way. It'll be things like what if Harry's vision of Olivander came a few minutes earlier and he wasn't alone? Or what if Bellatrix's knife had been a few inches to the left and grazed Harry on the way to Dobby. Little things. Sometimes it might also be flipped perspectives. Like Ron's POV on Harry's nightmares or Hermione's POV on finding Harry up in Sirius's room I'm very cannon and love all the good guys and don't like the bad guys so much, but I especially tend to lean towards Harry as my favorite character, so most of this will be centered around him.

A/N: (Yes, this A/N is different from the summary) I was going to put in the paragraph from the book where this starts out, but it's super late and I'm too tired so I'll just tell you this one, but the others I'll put in part of the book where it starts out. This is in chapter five of Deathly Hallows, right after they toast Mad-Eye and Harry says he should leave and just before he gets his vision thingy. It's basically another version of the vision if he'd gotten it in front of everybody else.

Harry rubbed at his forehead, pain spiking suddenly through his scar. He wanted to turn and flee into the dark back garden or even into an empty room, desiring privacy for what he could feel coming, though he hoped he was wrong. This couldn't start happening again. His scar hadn't hurt like this since the night Sirius had died.

The conversation turned away from him as he retreated into stubborn silence. He could feel the others' glances. No one had been convinced of anything, not even him. They still thought he'd defeated Voldemort again, and he was still thinking of leaving. He was grateful not to be the center of attention anymore and let his mind slip away from the conversation.

If he thought he could have moved without falling over, Harry would have turned and run from the room. He knew what was coming and knew he wouldn't be able to stop it anymore than he had been able to a year ago.

He closed his eyes, hoping he wouldn't scream like the last few times, hoping no one would notice. A vision of something happening far away flooded his mind, foreign thoughts sharp and acute as if they were his own.

Ron and Hermione, more trained in noticing this sort of thing having spent six years as Harry's best friends, were paying about as much attention to the conversation as Harry was. It was surprisingly Ron who picked up on it first. He noticed Harry's closed eyes, his tight grip on the back of the sofa. Other people might think it was just stress from the whole sodding situation, but the way Harry had been rubbing at his scar had not passed him by and Ron shot a pointed glance at Hermione, nodding in Harry's direction.

Ron couldn't be sure what was happening – after all this connection was supposed to be closed – but he had a feeling, maybe like the one dogs get before someone has a seizure.

Ron and Hermione were the only ones who noted the white-knuckle grip Harry had on the sofa and the wine glass, the way his eyes scrunched up tighter and tighter, like he was resisting pain. A drop of blood trickled down Harry's chin because he was biting his lip so hard to resist screaming and Ron and Hermione stiffened, the rest of the room fading away as they watched Harry, now sure of what was about to happen. Harry swayed and both of them half rose from their chairs. Their movement drew everybody's attention, but they hardly noticed the stares, gazes locked on their friend. Everybody turned to look at Harry just as the wine glass slipped from his grip and shattered on the floor. The next instant he went down, disappearing behind the sofa, and his screams filled the room.

Instant uproar. Ginny and Tonks, who were closest, vaulted over the back of the couch, Mrs. Weasley was at Harry's other side in a second, and everyone else made movements towards the place where Harry was thrashing around, screaming more terribly than any of them had thought he was capable of. But Ron was the quickest to react. He lunged forward, pushing the others out of his way and shouting above the noise, "Get back! I know what to do!"

No one paid him any attention until he had jumped over the back of the sofa and shoved Ginny roughly aside. Pinning down one of Harry's flailing arms with a knee, Ron slapped him across the face, ignoring the others outraged cries.

"It's the only thing that'll work before he bites his tongue off or something!" he bellowed, wrenching his arm free of his mother's grip to slap his friend again. "Trust me, I've done this before!"

After that most of the rest stopped protesting. Arthur gently pulled his wife back to give Ron room while they all watched Ron struggle with Harry.

"Harry! HARRY! Come on! Wake up!" Ron shouted, slapping Harry across the face repeatedly.

After about a minute, it seemed to work. Harry's wild thrashing subsided into jerky twitches, his screams died in his throat and Ron stopped hitting him and started shaking him. "Come on, Harry! It's us! Wake up!"

Harry fell limp and the entire room fell silent. His eyes fluttered open and stared up at Ron blearily.

Harry felt as if he'd been trampled. He was lying on the wooden floor, covered in cold sweat and shaking uncontrollably. Ron was kneeling over him looking very unnerved, but surprisingly much calmer than the others Harry could see from this position. Ron was the only one who had really seen him during one of these visions before.

"Back with us?" Ron asked shakily, helping Harry sit up. It was a stupid thing to say, but it was better than asking if Harry was okay, because Ron knew he wasn't.

Harry had fallen on the glass shards from the dropped goblet and they'd left slices on his back and shoulder. His moth was bloody from biting through his lip and hot, sticky blood covered his chin. Thinking of past experiences, Ron flicked his wand in the direction of the kitchen and a bowl soared into his hand.

"Just in case," he murmured, shoving it into Harry's lap. Sure enough, a minute latter nausea rolled over him and Harry lurched forward to retch into the bowl.

Ron and Hermione knelt on either side of him, gripping his shoulder or rubbing his back, attempting in some small way to be soothing. When he straightened up, shaking harder than before and whipping his mouth, Hermione vanished the contents of the bowl with a wave of her wand and she and Ron heaved Harry into a near-by chair.

No one had moved or made a sound since Harry had come round. They watched the trio with varying degrees of understanding, fear, and concern. Molly was sobbing silently into her husband's chest and Ginny and Fleur both looked sickened.

The trio, as they had unconsciously become accustomed to doing, huddled together in their own little island, barely noticing the room full of on-lookers. Hermione knelt in front of Harry, peering anxiously into his face while Ron bent over the arm of the chair to but his head close to the other two.

They spoke so low that the others only heard snatches even in the quiet room. Hermione muttered something to Harry, who nodded, sagging tiredly into the chair. The others heard Hermione's voice shoot up an octave when she replied.

"But it was supposed to have stopped!" she half-whimpered, so only Ron and Harry could make out her words. "This wasn't supposed to happen anymore!"

"The connection must have re-opened somehow," Harry murmured, barely moving his lips.

"You've got to stop it! Harry, you can't let this happen! You can't let him inside your head, too," Hermione whispered urgently.

Harry cracked his eyes open enough to scowl at her. "You know I can't," he muttered in an even lower voice.

"You never really tried," she said whispered fiercely. "He can use this, Harry! Remember what happened last time?"

"Yeah, I do, thanks," Harry muttered bitterly. Glaring, he lurched to his feet and started unsteadily for the stairs, shoving down the memories and guilt Hermione had accidentally dragged to the surface. R

Ron looked reproachfully at Hermione for a moment in an utterly alien moment of reprimanding her for lack of tact before catching up with Harry in two quick strides to help him up the stairs. After a moment's hesitation, Hermione stood up and followed them, taking her place on Harry's other side.

"What the hell was that about!" Fred exclaimed once the trio had disappeared up the stairs.

"Who knows!" Ginny burst out bitterly. The night's events coupled with what had just happened and watching Harry, Ron, and Hermione go off together again, and Harry trusting them but not her again, caused traitorous tears to sting her eyes and she blinked down at her hands.

Most of the others were thinking about how Ron had suddenly taken charge and known what to do. For many of them this was a first.

"They know each other well," Arthur said quietly. "They've got no one better to be going off with than each other."

Molly lifted her tear-stained face from Arthur's shoulder. "They shouldn't be going off anywhere! They're just children!" she declared in wavering voice.

"Molly, look at what just happened. Look at what Ronnie did. While the rest of us panicked, he stayed calm and took care of things," Arthur said calmly. None of them really had had any idea what those visions were like, how horrible they were to witness and how much worse it must be for Harry. But his youngest son had gotten beyond that and actually done something. "This was obviously not the first time Ron's had to do something like that. They may be young, but they've dealt with a lot beyond their age. We couldn't stop them from leaving if we tried, but it's at least a small comfort to know that they'll have each others' backs better than anyone else could."

A/N: So what do you think? Maybe it's a little pointless, but these what ifs are usually that way. I hope anyone amazing enough to read this liked it and I would really REALLY love some feedback. Even if you hated it. So please pleas take a moment to leave a review! It only takes a moment!