The dark was busy doing what it does best when it was interrupted by a whoosh followed with the snapping crack created by someone reappearing from apparition. Other than some momentary barking by an unseen dog and the screech of the startled cat he had almost landed on as it scurried off into an alley, Ron's abrupt arrival seemed to have gone otherwise unnoticed.
He shook his head for a moment to clear away the bits of nausea that often accompany apparition, especially by those not yet comfortable with the process. Once his mind cleared, he then started looking at his new surroundings with hopes of seeing something he recognized.
"What the bloody hell did I just do? Where am I?" he asked himself as the anger of the argument fueled by the bile of the horcrux waned. He stomped his foot, looking for something to kick. "What have I done?"
Actually, he knew exactly what had happened. He had let the horcrux play on his temper and frustration at their lack of progress. He had caused Harry to act out on his delusions of Hermione and his planning and plotting against him. He had put Hermione in a horrible position. It had caused all of them to explode on each other and him to rush out of the tent and into the randomness of a rapid apparition. Now he was stuck living the consequences. He had no idea how to get back. He wondered what was going on back in the tent.
Ron had no idea as to his location. The dearth of lights on the street made it hard to see. The village looked like Hogsmeade, but it was not. None of the buildings or signs were familiar to him. There was no Honeydukes, Three Broomsticks or Madam Puddifoot's. The only indications of life seemed to be coming from a place a few buildings away. From the sounds, it was probably a pub or inn.
Ron had been wearing the Slytherin locket all afternoon. Its effects on the wearer were noticeable, especially on Ron. Its dark powers made a person sullen, depressed and irritable. All three of them were aware of that fact. That is why they took turns wearing it. The problem was a wearer tended to lose track of this fact.
This was not the first occasion of an irrational outburst from one of them while under the influence of the horcrux. However, this was the first time one of them really acted out on the pent-up locket anger that had built up inside them.
It was fortunate for all of them that Ron had taken it off after his outburst before disappearing. Who knows what could result from him taking it with him? The tragedy was the residual effects lasted long enough for him to still storm out of the tent and disappear. Now he was lost in a strange place with no idea as to how to get back to Harry and Hermione. He desperately wanted to go back.
Back in the tent, Hermione was sitting on her bed trying to read a book and settle her mind, but the steady dripping of teardrops onto the pages indicated her efforts were futile. Many of the girls back at Hogwarts would be shocked to see this happening. They had labeled her a long time ago as not having a heart. They saw her as all brains and book, no heart and no soul. Some of them even called her Hermitione behind her back based on their assumption she would grow old, live alone with her books and a few cats, and never know true love.
While they were not entirely wrong, they were actually inaccurate. Hermione's heart was of first quality blood pump. Her blood pressure and other physical measures related to her heart were excellent. But that was not the issue in question. The girls were referring to the emotional side of a heart, or her lack thereof.
The girls were implying Hermione somehow lacked an emotional side to her heart. They meant in their shallow, snarky assessments that Hermione had, as in the hurtful words of Professor Trelawney, a heart which was "shriveled as an old maid's, [her] soul as dry as the pages of the books to which you so desperately cleave."
This was a flawed assessment. If you were to consider the emotional side of a person's heart like a jigsaw puzzle, it would be more accurate to say she had a piece or two missing, not the entire puzzle. For example, she had a strong sense of justice, social and otherwise. This allowed her to break and bend the rules that seemed to so often visibly bind her actions when need be. It also cropped up often over the year, such as in the searching for the Philosopher's Stone and the Chamber of Secrets. It brought about her founding of S.P.E.W. and Dumbledore's Army. These things were all evidence of the existence of a strong and active emotional heart.
Her emotional heart also allowed her to see the forming of romantic relationships between boys and girls. She saw the way Harry looked at Ginny and the signs that Ginny and Dean were not getting on. But this is also where her heart had its missing pieces. Through all of her years at Hogwarts, she had never actually dated if we disregard her momentary dalliance with Viktor Krum and convenience dates such as Cormac McLaggen at Slughorn's Christmas party. As clumsy as Ron and Harry were at getting dates to the Yule Ball, she was even more lacking in the skills of attracting the opposite sex. She was fortunate that Krum found her total ignoring of him more fascinating than the gaggle of giggling girls that haunted his every step.
In her early years, she was always too busy with her academic pursuits. She never saw the necessity of dedicating time like her less academically-serious friends to such a frivolous distraction. Later on, when she actually began feeling the inklings of desire to start a relationship with Ron, she was too awkward. She needed a plan, she always needed a plan, for something that complicated, Her process-orientation rendered her incapable of freely acting on the foreign feelings coming out of her heart.
Hermione's always critical brain kept telling her she was not pretty enough to be desirable or as nicely formed as many of her more body-mature classmates. It convinced her she had a coarse personality. Besides, she was muggle-born, a 'mudblood' to elitists like Draco. Ron was a pureblood. How could he want her? She knew some of his family's feelings about Fleur. What did they really say about her behind her back?
This led to situations like the scene at the bottom of the stairs after the quidditch match. It also led to her simply nodding and saying "Boggled" after Ron gave her an opening to start a conversation about their mutual feelings for each other after he said he seemed to remember something while in the hospital bed recovering from being poisoned and having muttered her name to Lavender's dismay while delirious.
While Hermione continued weeping, Harry was outside doing guard duty. His mind was filled with a storm of thoughts struggling against the bile of the locket he was now wearing. He did not want this to happen. How were they going to proceed from here? Ron was his best friend. He was an integral part of the team. The chances of success had been dealt a severe blow.
Despite this sentiment, he was still totally pissed at Ron. He never again wanted to see him, hear his name or think of him. This would prove futile over the long run, but it was hot and fresh at the moment.
"Damn!" cussed Harry, wanting to cast a curse at something in anger, but knowing the explosive effect could give away their position, even with the protective enchantments. Instead, he kicked a small larch causing an avalanche to fall onto his head.
The angry, pent-up suspicions he had been feeling for days had finally spilled out. He and his best friend had exploded on each other. If not for the Protego charm Hermione had cast between them, who knows how for it might have gone.
Now, his best friend was gone and he was totally pissed at him. Hermione was devastated from having been thrust into the middle of an irrational row made worse by the bile of the locket which hung around Ron's neck. Their mission was on the verge of collapse.
"How will we continue?" thought Harry as he brushed off the snow and needles with frustrated strokes. "We haven't accomplished anything other than finding a bloody locket that we can't destroy because we now need to find a missing sword. I know they were upset at our lack of progress, but I shouldn't have popped off on him like that. I know how Hermione feels about the ass, even though she doesn't feel that way at the moment, and he is too thick to realize it, either. I can't imagine how she is feeling right now. This is a bloody mess, and I made it worse."
Ron walked toward the lights of the buildings. He needed to get a sense of where he was. He had really done it this time. He knew the horcrux was responsible for much of his anger. But he also realized he needed to learn to control his temper and gain some understanding from what Harry was enduring. He should have understood that by now.
As he reached the lighted building he peered in through the window. The people inside, mostly men, were drinking from tall mugs and eating from bowls of what looked to be a stew while dipping large pieces of bread into it. They were also engaged in raucous, animated conversation and behavior.
"Muggles," thought Ron. "Definitely muggles. I wonder if I dare go in there? I could use a bit of food and something to drink."
Just then a pair of men exited the pub. "G'evenin'," said one of them as he held the door for Ron to enter.
Ron took it as an omen and said "Thanks" as he entered the place.
He quickly looked around and spotted a small, vacant table. A sturdy woman in a common, red dress with an apron marked by the work of the day approached him and asked what he would like.
"I guess I'll have a drink of whatever everyone else is having and a bowl of that stew," he replied, not certain what to order.
The woman walked off as he started looking at the other patrons. No one seemed to be paying much attention to him. They were all too busy with their own goings-on.
A moment later she returned and sat down a mug of frothy liquid, a slice of bread and a bowl of hearty-looking stew. "I don't recall ever seein' ya in here," she said with a smile.
"I—I've never been here before. I'm just passing through. What is the name of this village?" he asked, hoping it would be a familiar name giving him a clue as to his whereabouts."
"This is Crickhowell," she replied, "and you're in The Stolen Lamb. Where might you be from?"
"Ottery—uh—Ottery Saint Catchpole," he replied, not sure what to say. He certainly could not say Hogwarts and his accent was all wrong for northern England.
"I've 'eard of that place. Down in Devon, isn't it? Fair bit of a walk if yer travelin' on foot."
"Yes, Down in Devon," he replied.
"Well, welcome here," she said "That'll be four pounds for the special. Made it fresh this mornin'. Mighty fine and fillin' for a weary traveler. We got some rooms if yer lookin' fer a place to sleep."
"Thanks," said Ron as he reached in his pocket and pulled out his enchanted pouch of endless muggle money. He took a fiver from it and smiled knowing it was Hermione who had insisted they all carry some muggle money just in case. He handed it to the woman and told her to keep the change.
The drink was a strong, bitter ale which was far more potent than the butterbeer to which he was accustomed. But the stew, which turned out to be made with lamb, was delicious and the bread was perfect for dipping in it.
As he ate greedily at his food, which was the first real meal he had enjoyed in some time, he noticed a group of men against the far wall. They did not seem to fit in with the rest of the pub's patrons. They also seemed to be looking at him a little too much. It made him nervous and anxious to leave, even though he had nowhere to go.
Ron finished his meal while carefully keeping an eye on the men watching him. He took a final drink of his bitter brew and got up to leave. As he reached the door he noticed the men rising to leave, as well.
Once outside he walked in a purposeful manner back in the direction from which he had come. He was only made it a few yards away by the time the men made it into the street.
"Don't stand there," hollered one of the men. "Snatch him."
The men burst into a run, coming after him as fast as they could. Ron cast a stunning spell which toppled two of them as he took flight. Several spells cast by the remaining snatcher whizzed by him as he zigzagged at top speed. Unfortunately, one of them was pretty fleet of foot. Within a few steps, they had him. They began bickering among themselves as to what to do with him. They did not believe him when he told them his name was Stan Shunpike,
Ron used their confusion to punch the snatcher holding him and to steal his wand. He then recovered his own wand and made a dash for freedom.
He cast expelliarmus as he turned toward the alley the cat had used. He heard the closest snatcher topple and a couple more trip over him.
By the time the snatchers had gathered themselves and made it into the alley to rejoin the chase, Ron had already made it behind a building and was quickly burying himself in a heap of old boards and rubbish. The snatchers, who did not seem all that bright as he listened to them from his hiding place, searched the area for several minutes before cussing and giving up.
