Time: Chapter One
It was evening and the castle shook with the familiar sounds of night persisting on her boarders. Ron walked alone through the twisting corridors of Hogwarts. His feet hit the marble floor in a soft melodic pattern, like muffled beats on a drum. The disheveled backpack thrown carelessly over his shoulder hung heavy with textbooks, most in poor condition. His Standard Book of Spells: Year Three was in particularly bad shape; he had crunched some pages and broken an ink bottle in his rush to leave the library. Hermione had been putting him on edge lately and he certainly didn't want to wait around long enough for another row to a rise.
He wandered aimlessly for a while before realizing he was nowhere near the Gryffindor tower. As a matter of fact, how had he gotten to this part of the castle? After all he'd only been walking for a few moments and yet this hall looked drastically different than the ones he usually traveled. Maybe he had missed a turn, or perhaps mistaken a door? But despite his attempts to recall his path he couldn't. Ron spun looking for a clue as to where he was, but there was nothing, not a single picture or tapestry. No misshapen wardrobes or ancient vases, no suits of armor perched at the ready. The only light came from the flicker of kerosene lamps glowing on the walls, not a single window shown the darkened air of night. Come to think of it there didn't appear to be any doors either. Wait, hadn't he just seen a door there? Yes, he was certain there had been a large wooden egress on the wall just opposite of him. But where had it gone? People often said the castle had a mind of its own but this was beyond strange.
Ron began to panic, no longer was it just the threat of Filch and that damn cat catching him but now it seemed as though something else was after him as well. He fiddled for a moment in the side pocket of his backpack before comprising his wand from underneath a pile of freshly completed homework. He held the delicate piece of wood at a good distance with his arms bent in identical angles. He crouched slightly in the manner he'd been taught the previous year in defense club. Though he had always assumed the technique taught by Professor Lockhart was complete rubbish, it was the only form he knew. An odd wind began to rustle through the dim hallway ahead as Ron sat silent listening desperately for a noise which would dispel this madness.
An eerie silence emerged as the hanging lanterns lighting the ascending hall began to flicker and finally give out in corresponding pairs as though instructed to. Ron's heart began to race, pounding through his chest. The lights began to gain on him, first like stars in the distance twinkling in the vast space between them and then they were gone and the hall was dark.
The dark was suddenly ripped apart by a blinding blue light. Ron stepped forward on trembling legs to examine the object emitting the bright hue. "A portkey" he gasped. Despite having never seen one himself Ron could recall the phenomena from his parent's stories and the annual owl pamphlets sent by the ministry informing the public on the "Proper way" to ascertain such an object. The sudden pulsations alerted him of the objects hastening departure. Without thinking he reached forward and grasped the article, which almost looked like a shoe from this distance, and had the sudden and rather unpleasant experience of portkey travel.