Okay, for those awaiting the next chapter of 'Searching', please don't shout at me::bats eyelashes:: I just haven't had anything from my muse as far as that's concerned. Don't worry, I won't be abandonning it, I'm just haveing more trouble with it than I thought I would!

Author's Notes: Firstly thank you to mrsquizzical over on LiveJournal and my big sis Solstice Muse for reading it through and putting up with my 'is this okay...how about this?' questions, of which there were many! Secondly thanks to my super fast beta DeenaS, also over on LiveJournal. Yes that's right, I've been through the beta process before putting it up on here, shock horror!

I cannot take credit for the baseline plot of this fic. I blatantly stole it from Stargate SG-1, series 8, which they then recycled in Stargate Atlantis, series 2, so you know, if they can use it twice, I can borrow it this once!

So, as much as there seems to be a bit of plot at the beginning, it is merely a scene setter and not what that story is focused around. The whole point of the story is more of a character study of the main character. (Okay, you can tell I'm nervous about something when I'm justifying it before you've even read it! sigh)

I'd love you forever if you could let me know what you think of it.

I'm gonna shut up now...

Prologue

He wasn't sure if this had been one of the most stupid decisions he had ever made. As he thought about it more, he decided it wasn't the most stupid decision he had ever made, but it was a close second.

The rain was freezing, the wind was extremely strong and he was finding it more and more difficult to make his broom fly in the direction he wanted it to. His hands had gone numb from the cold and he was starting to get cramp in his thighs from gripping the broom so tightly.

There was a reason why he was flying in this ridiculously bad weather; he was following his instincts. But at the minute he would rather his instincts would have told him to leave well alone and ignore the fact that there could be evil brewing in the woodland he was searching for.

…

He had been in the Ministry, having escorted Hermione back to her office after they had had lunch together in Diagon Alley, and was about to leave when he thought it would be better to empty his bladder before he used the Floo network. Granted, he probably wasn't going to repeat the unfortunate incident that occurred when he was four years old, but still, it had become habit to use the bathroom before using that particular type of transportation.

It had been entering the toilet that had led to him being on his broom in the freezing rain, hundreds of miles from home. In fact he was at the opposite end of the country to where he should be, but with apparition, that wasn't really a huge problem.

He had pushed open the toilet door and had stopped instantly when the words 'keep your voice down! Do you want everyone to hear what we're discussing?' reached his brain. He waited to see if the two people arguing had noticed his half entrance, but decided that when they started talking again he was safe to stand there unnoticed to listen a bit longer.

'Look, there's a gathering tonight at our main hideout.'

'And where, prey tell, would that be? Or am I not privy to such important information?'

'Northumberland, the Village of the Owls.'

'Ah, yes, have the Muggles worked out the real reason for their rather cute village name, yet?'

'If they haven't noticed in hundreds of years that their village is the meeting point of all the wizards in the North of England every year, then I doubt whether their cute village name has aroused any suspicion! Now, will you be there?'

'As long as you promise it won't be a waste of my time and that no one in the Ministry will find out about my out of hours wanderings.'

'Well, we've not been found out yet.'

'Yet, being the important word.'

Ron heard shuffling and decided it was time to stop listening. He banged on the door as if he had just entered in a hurried fashion and nodded at the two slightly startled men as he walked towards the urinals mounted on the far wall. The men left and Ron's brain started working.

He had left the Ministry and gone straight back to his and Hermione's flat. He paced around a bit, wondering whether the slightly sinister conversation was worth telling the Aurors or the Magical Law Enforcement department. He knew that both Hermione and Harry would take his thoughts seriously, but he didn't want to be the reason that either of them, or himself for that matter, were laughed at, or thought of as naïve for acting on a hunch without any solid evidence.

But there was something niggling in his mind. He just had a feeling that something was going on, and he had a name of a place where it was all apparently happening. Hermione would be working late that night so she wouldn't miss him if he disappeared from home for an hour or so. Before he knew it, he had formed a plan in his head and set about tying up the loose ends that may bring about awkward questions.

…

'After all that planning and you didn't think to check the bloody weather forecast before you left! There's a reason why they complain about the weather up North, Weasley!'

He sighed loudly but the noise was drowned out easily by the wind.

He had been in the air for far longer than he had intended. He had looked up where the annual gathering of Wizards and Witches of the North of England normally took place, and was trying to find the dense woodland. He didn't know for sure that this was where, whatever it was, was taking place, but it was as good a place as any to start looking.

He knew he had missed it, it was only just over half a mile north-west of the village, but he knew he had flown further than that. He came to a hover – as much as it was possible to hover in the strong wind – and managed to retrieve his wand from inside his robes. He held out his disillusioned hand and balanced his wand on his palm.

'Point me!' he said to the wand.

The wand spun on his hand and pointed a little to his left. He had been flying too far north and adjusted his direction before setting off flying again, wand still in hand.

A clap of thunder filled his ears.

'Bollocks! That is not what I need!'

He flew for another minute and when his numb hands slipped off his broom handle, he decided that he should go home. Flying when it was thundering and lightening was beyond stupid and he really wanted to be warm and dry.

He flew towards the ground and spotted a tree he could land safely behind, reducing the risk of being seen by anyone else who was stupid enough to be out in this weather. He was feet from the ground and the tree when it exploded. The sound of the explosion and of the thunder above him rattled through his head and the force of the explosion threw him off his broom.

He twisted in the air, ignoring the pain the flying splintered bark caused him and desperately tried to spot the ground so he could at least try and control the way he landed. But the darkness that had crept up on him in the last fifteen minutes made it nearly impossible to determine where the ground was.

He landed heavily and cracked his head against the hard ground. He tried to keep his eyes open despite the splitting pain in his head. Before his eyelids closed he saw the tree in flames, steam rising from the ground around it, the whole thing looking like a beacon sending a message across the horizon.

A voice in his head was telling him to keep his eyes open and he managed to roll onto his front and started to crawl towards what he thought was a line of trees. He curled up underneath the nearest tree and despite what he kept telling himself, he closed his eyes.

Ten seconds later he was unconscious.