It was a bumpy ride, on roads that were little more than stones and dirt. The cart rocked back and forth so much, Dorea considered walking the better alternative, even if it meant that she would have to run after the cart than to sit on it.

The hardships of the day slowly began to take their toll. Her arms and legs felt heavy and her eyes threatened to close again and again. Nevertheless, Dorea fought persistently against the fatigue. Surrounded by so many strangers, she could not afford a moment of weakness and carelessness.

Maybe it was just the paranoia Moody had instilled in her years before, or it was her own mistrust of other people, but even the idea of being vulnerable in the presence of strangers seemed utterly repulsive to the witch.

At least the scenery around was nice to look at. The narrow valley between the high mountains had widened into a large lake district, with large fields as far as the eye could see. And in the distance, she could already see the castle to which they were traveling. With nothing to block her view across the lake, she got a good glimpse at the castle, despite its distance. Ironoaks, a monster of stone that could not even hope to come close to the beauty and grandeur of Hogwarts. She counted six towers of varying size and a large keep, surrounded by a large wall.

"Lady Dorea," Elbert called out to her, "we will soon stop at a village, from there we will only continue on horseback so that we can hopefully reach Ironoaks before nightfall."

Wonderful, Dorea thought miserly. Now she was not only dead tired and dirty, no, but she would also even get a chance to embarrass herself with her nonexistent riding skills. She was good on a broom, but on a living being... that only brought back memories of that one time someone had tried to throw her off her broom by cursing it... ah, happy childhood memories. Riding on Buckbeak had been fun, though she had not repeated that stunt very often. And then there were her desperate attempts not to fall off a flying Thestral... she shuddered just thinking about those creepy horses... And the dragon... she would rather forget ever riding a dragon...

She did not answer the knight, much to his visible disappointment, but continued with what she had done in the hours before. She entertained the anxious children on the carriage with some fairy tales and stories from her own time at Hogwarts.

It was good to relieve the children of their fear and Dorea could distract herself for a while from her own problems. But she also noticed that some of the knights had steered their horses closer to the carriage to listen in and that the other survivors had stopped talking to listen to her tales as well.

She had just finished the entertaining tale of the little Witch, the Phoenix, and the Basilisk when they finally reached the village Elbert had spoken of. A collection of several dozen wooden houses and a few large granaries, surrounded by a nearly endless sea of fields. A farming village, but one with its own small garrison. A stone guardhouse surrounded by a small wall and two towers.

It was not surprising that all the granaries were placed around this guardhouse. The guards themselves were more likely here to protect the silos and not to protect the population. But even so, their presence would deter all but the most foolish raiders. In the other village, many people would not have had to die had they enjoyed similar protection.

The cart Dorea was sitting on soon came to a halt in front of the guardhouse and many men hurried to help the injured and frightened survivors of the car. The children who had clung to her were more reluctant to leave and needed some prodding from her to go, though.

Dorea stayed seated until everyone else had left. Her eyes wandered around, always alert. Old habits die hard after all, which was why she caught herself looking for all escape routes and hiding places around her.

She could not resist a weary laugh as the memory of her first day at the hospital came back. The healer to whom she had been assigned to as an assistant had caught her hanging halfway out of a window in an attempt to determine whether or not the jump from the second floor might be survivable.

Trying to explain her behavior was one of the strangest and most embarrassing discussions since her schooldays. That there had been three more incidents of this kind before Dorea had finally felt somewhat safe at her workplace helped little to win the goodwill of her superiors.

Even now others had spotted her behavior as well, as the guards were just as vigilant as she was. Dorea heaved a heavy sigh, as she realized that Elbert had been watching her all along. His smile was still friendly, but surely he had some questions of his own after spotting her odd behavior.

"Good job, Dorea," she muttered to herself, "Make them believe you are a weirdo."

"Are you feeling alright, Lady Dorea?" Elbert asked her, as he helped her get off the cart.

"It was a bumpy ride," she replied. "But except for that, I'm fine."

In other circumstances, she would have said something else, but she bit her tongue and kept the snark at bay. Otherwise, the knight would have heard just how uncomfortable the ride had been and how much her behind aches because of it... Had there not been so many people around her, she would have tried to charm her seat to be a bit more comfortable, but alas, comfort was not worth giving away her secrets. So she had bit her tongue and endured it.

And Elbert surely wouldn't have appreciated any kind of colorful language from a lady and for the moment he was her best chance at finding out more about this new land she had ended up in.

"Only a bit longer, my lady," Elbert said, "If all goes well we will reach Ironoaks in an hour or so."

All around them people were busy. Knights and guards had begun to usher the survivors away from the guardhouse and towards other parts of the village, promising food and shelter. Dorea, however, remained focused on the knight before her.

Elbert stood out among the group of knights, both in appearance and in the way the people treated him. Even here everyone looked at him with reverence and respect, even though the sigil on his armor was a different one from the sigil on the flags in front of the guardhouse.

Elbert caught her looking at that other sigil and started to explain, "That is the sigil of House Waynwood. The Waynwoods have ruled over Ironoaks and the surrounding lands since the days of the Andal Conquest."

Dorea hummed, not knowing what to answer to this tidbit of knowledge. She would remember it for later, but unless they have some sort of history book at Ironoaks that she can borrow, she would have to tread carefully or else she might attract all the wrong attention.

The sigil of House Waynwood was quite peculiar, though. A broken wheel. A black wheel, broken on one side, on a green field. She wondered why any noble family would choose such a sigil. Surely there is some fantastic tale of gods and bravery involved. There usually is.

"Come, we will continue on horseback now," Elbert told her, as he leads her towards the nearby stable, where he had left his horse.

A stablehand was already there, holding the reins of the horse. It was a young boy, small and dirty, likely no older than ten at most. Another quick reminder that this world was nothing like hers. Most of the children here never visit a school. They had to work to help their families survive...

Dorea looked at the horse with some suspicion. She still would have preferred her broom but that darn thing was waiting for her in her old world. But a horse... she remembered how some of the girls in her elementary school had dreamed about riding and horse and all that. Dorea had never really understood what the fuss was about. Especially now, when she stood next to a horse. It didn't look like it would be a good idea to sit on it, not to mention the smell... But she would have to ride to get to Ironoaks.

"Don't get any wrong ideas, horse," Dorea muttered, as the animal turned its head to look at her.

'I'm really good at riding on a broom, how much harder can this be?' she wondered. Mustering all her Gryffindor courage, she swung herself onto the saddle.

Elbert stood not far from her, a dumbfounded expression on his face.

'Shit,' Dorea thought, 'How have I messed up this time?'

"I... can ride on my own... I think."

"Of course," Elbert replied slowly. "But please excuse my manners. I shouldn't have stared. I just had not expected..."

"A woman trying to ride a horse?"

"No," he shook his head and refused to meet her eyes again. "I had not expected you to wear breeches. None of the ladies here do."

"I am not like any of the ladies you've met," she said. She sounded as defiant as she felt at that moment. But seriously, was it such a big issue that she had chosen to wear pants underneath the Flamel robe? Was this society really even more archaic than magical Britain? That should be absolutely impossible.

The horse suddenly shook, as Elbert climbed into the saddle behind her.

"I must beg your forgiveness again, Lady Dorea, but we don't have any horses fit for a lady at this outpost, so you will have to endure my presence for a little while longer."

As she turned her head to look at him, she realized how close he was to her. When she looked him in the eyes, they were so close their noses were almost touching. While she was no prude, this was certainly too close for comfort.

"It will only be for a little while," Elbert assured her, "Lady Anya will surely chide me enough for doing something this inappropriate, but it will save us hours of time on the road."

"And have you ever considered to simply ask if I'm okay with this? I can ride, you know," Dorea challenged. Not that she minded it that much, but it was somewhat surprising. So far Elbert had seemed like he would have a stroke the moment he touches anything but her hand.

And to her chagrin, Elbert had called her bluff immediately, as he chuckled and replied, "Would you really be able to tame one of our willful destriers?" He laughed openly when she didn't reply. "That's what I thought. Please don't be insulted by this, but the horses we ride have been bred for battle. They don't scare easily, they can overcome steep paths and find their way through these mountains. But they are willful beasts and require years of training to master."

"Riding is one talent, I have others."

"That you do," Elbert agreed. "My men have been surprised by how well the wounds of the villagers had been cared for. Not many of our Maesters can match your skill. Especially that salve you've used on the burn victims, it was very effective."

"A simple remedy. I've seen plenty of the herbs needed for it growing near the streams in these mountains."

It was one of the nicer surprises she had encountered in her first few days in this world. The plant life was eerily similar to that in her own world. So much so, in fact, that with the exception of the rarest ingredients, she would likely find almost everything to recreate many of her salves and potions. Not that she was dependent on those plants just yet, she had brought plenty of ingredients with her. But it was nice to know that she wouldn't be cut off completely, just in case she would need new supplies for another world ending event with lots of casualties...

"Maester Artes will surely be eager to hear it. The man is young and eager to learn all he can. A true boon to my uncle's castle," Elbert chuckled. His voice brought Dorea back to the present, or rather, to her peculiar situation of sharing a horse with a fully armored knight in some sort of twisted medieval fun time land.

She decided to ignore the unwelcome closeness and focused on the lands around them, which were passing by at a fast pace.

The long dirt road underneath the hooves of the horse followed the shoreline of the large lake she had seen before, with the village at one end of the road and the castle of Ironoaks at the other. Wooden bridges allowed them to dryly cross over several small streams.

Ironoaks itself, however, remained the main attraction. The castle overshadowed most of the surrounding landscape, with its strong stone walls and tall towers. Like a manmade mountain, hidden in the large valley between the actual mountains of the region.

The castle reminded her of the first time she had seen Hogwarts. Not because the castles look similar in any way, Hogwarts was far bigger and grander in every way imaginable. But just like Hogwarts had been her first real introduction to the people of the magical world, Ironoaks would be the same for this world. She could hardly contain the feeling of excitement and trepidation, a strange mix for sure.

"Say, Elbert, the lords of this castle..."

"House Waynwood," the knight supplied, "Lords of Ironoaks since the days of the Andal conquest thousands of years ago. They have held this castle ever since Ser Artys Arryn and his knights defeated the Bronze King Robar Royce in the Battle of Seven Stars."

Thousands of years... surely this wasn't an accurate date. Or had these people really not evolved technologically for a very long time? Just what kind of world is this? And here she had thought that the magical world had been way behind on the development...

"And these Waynwoods, are they family of yours?"

He laughed, a deep rumbling sound behind her back, "Not at all. The current lord's brother, Ser Elys Waynwood, is married to my aunt, Lady Alys Arryn. Other than that there is no direct blood relation at the moment."

"At the moment?" Dorea asked, her interest peaked.

"Well, Ser Elys and my aunt have quite a few daughters and there had been talks about me marrying one of them in the near future, though they might choose a different member of my family, who is not as closely related. We are no Targaryens, after all."

We are no Targaryens... such an odd comment. But the way he had said it, the meaning behind these words are likely common knowledge. Another thing she would have to investigate asap, so she wouldn't stick out too much.

"Are you worried?" Elbert asked her suddenly. "I can assure you that there is no need for it. The Waynwoods are a family of honorable people, who would never harm any lady. And you come here under my protection."

"That is what worries me," Dorea muttered. She had not meant to say it out loud, but the words had slipped out before she had realized it. "I mean... ahem... Why are you so forthcoming? I am a complete stranger after all. My family does not even hail from your country."

"True, but I am not the kind of man to abandon a woman in need of help. And the servants of House Flamel have traded with the Vale for over a century now, so we do have an obligation to protect a daughter of their family."

She wanted to groan. Just her luck. She had tried to keep a low profile. Get her bearings and find out more about this world without others bothering her before she would seek out Perenelle on her own terms. Now she had just ended up in a place that not just knew the Flamels, but one that even had cordial relations with them. Now the Flamels would find out about her before she has any chance to gain an advantage... In the worst case, she might even be at their mercy now.

"Though, I do have to say that I was surprised to find a daughter of House Flamel in a small village here in the Vale. It's the first time in over a century that a Flamel has visited Westeros," Elbert continued. "Usually we only trade with their servants."

"Then how can you be so sure that I'm the real deal and not just some impostor?" Dorea quipped. Elbert had been far too accepting of her cover story, so she really wants an answer to that question.

Again the knight laughed. Whether he was amused by the stupidity or the absurdity of her question remained unknown.

"The sigil sewn onto your cloak is recognizable," he answered.

The cloak... the one Perenelle's white-robed monkey squad had given her. It had been well made and in contrast to the rest of her the clothing they had forced her to wear, it was actually comfortable and practical. She had not even realized that the Flamels had also marked her as theirs with it. In hindsight, she was glad that she had kept the clothes she had gotten from those servants. After some adjustments with those nifty household charms Molly Weasley had taught her, the clothes were actually halfway comfortable. Not to mention that she avoided many uneasy questions now. It would have been very odd to explain why she was wearing modern day muggle clothing in a medieval world, considering how Elbert had reacted to her wearing pants...

But Elbert was finished yet, "Also there is no one foolish enough to falsely claim to be a Flamel. All Houses have to deal with impostors and bastards from time to time, but the Flamels are known for their ruthlessness when it comes to dealing with these kinds of people."

So there would be fighting involved pretty soon. Unless Perenelle's monkeys would recognize her, they might even try to kill her for using the Flamel name without permission. Oh, the joys of being Dorea Potter...

"Only a fool would do that," she mumbled. Elbert hummed in agreement.

"Either way, you are safe here in the Vale. For as long as you wish to stay, I will guarantee your safety, on my word as the heir of House Arryn," Elbert vowed.

Again Dorea was at loss for words. So she had not just ended up in a place where the Flamels might find her easily, she had also ended up in the company of an heir to an old and prestigious family. Can't she ever do normal? Just for once? A chance to lay low, away from the center of attention. That would be a nice change of pace... but alas, she had no luck with that.

Elbert continued to talk, even though he never got more but the bare minimum responses from Dorea. He didn't seem to mind, though, as he told her about the land around them and the things he had seen and done here.

Not long after the sun had disappeared behind the mountains, they had reached the large gates of the castle. Up close Ironoaks did manage to look imposing, though it lacked any of the magic she had come to expect from a castle. This was no Hogwarts, she reminded herself again and again. She wasn't sure whether or not the people here even know about magic, or worse, whether they would accept or abhor it.

"Who goes there?" one of the guards, standing on the wall above them, called out.

"Ser Elbert and his knights," Elbert replied loudly, "We have returned from battle."

"Open the gate!"

The reaction to Elbert's words was immediate. No one would refuse them entry, that much was obvious. But what would await them inside?

The portcullis of the castle was raised just enough for Elbert and his knights to enter the castle courtyard. Once inside, the portcullis was closed once more, with a loud bang. No one else would get in or out of the castle during the night.

A lanky man ran across the courtyard and quickly towards Elbert and Dorea. For a moment Dorea had mistaken him for a wizard, because of the gray robes he was wearing. Every step he made was accompanied by the sound of the rattling chains he had hung around his neck. The man certainly looked so utterly wacky, she was sure that Professor Dumbledore would have immediately taken a liking to him. If he was inept as well, this man might even be allowed to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts...

"Ser Elbert, thank the Mother for her mercy. The rider you have sent ahead has already informed us about the battle. We all have been so relieved to hear that you have returned to us unharmed."

Mostly unharmed, Dorea thought idly. She had seen it before, the way he would move because of an untreated cut or bruise. How he wouldn't put his full weight on his right leg or raise his arm above his head because of the cut she had spotted between the cracks of his heavy armor. He was far from fine, but he would survive without trouble unless he forgets to clean one of the wounds and lets it fester. Then things could get ugly.

"I need to talk to Lord Waynwood immediately, Maester Bors," Elbert replied grimly, "We have no time to dawdle with those savages raiding the outlying villages of this lordship."

So that was a Maester. Dorea had another close look at the man. From the few things she had heard from Elbert, this man was at the very least an accomplished healer in his own right. If there is such a thing as an accomplished healer in a medieval world. The moment he brings out the leeches they would have words.

"Of course, my lord," the Maester agreed. "But Lord Lymond health has worsened considerably, so he won't be able to attend the meeting. Lady Anya will decide in his place."

Elbert sighed deeply behind her. "That will have to do."

Then the Maester's focus shifted towards Dorea, who was still sitting in front of Elbert. "And Lady Anya requests that you bring Lady Flamel as well."

Elbert only grunted, before he hastened his horse towards the stable, where busy stablehands quickly came to assist the riders with their horses.

The knight was the first off the horse and he would have tried to help Dorea climb down from the horse, had she not jumped off the moment she was free to do so. This earned her more strange looks, as her actions were anything but ladylike.

"This will be a long day if they continue to look at me like this every time I take a wrong breath," she mutters sourly.

"They mean you no harm," Elbert assured her, "I need to speak to the Lady immediately, but I will send someone to take you to a free room."

"But my lord, Lady Anya's orders..." the Maester exclaimed.

"I don't think that it is necessary to inconvenience Lady Dorea even further..."

"Lady Anya insists," the Maester stressed.

Dorea laughed lightly, as she saw the look of annoyance on Elbert's face. It was easy to guess that he and this Lady Anya don't see things eye to eye. He must have had his reasons for trying to keep her away from that lady. But this only piqued Dorea's curiosity even more. Now she had to meet this lady and see what irks the noble knight so much.

"It's fine, Elbert," she assured the man, "If the lady wishes to see me, it would be rude to deny her."

"As you wish, but be careful. Lady Anya can be... very opinionated. Not to mention her insistence on the protocol," Elbert said, as he guided her towards a large archway that leads into the main keep of the castle.

The halls of the castle were surprisingly bare. No paintings, no suits of armor. Only banners made of dyed linen and the cold stones could be seen on either side. Every now and then there was a heavy wooden door, but all of them remained closed as they passed.

It was only a short walk before they finally reached a long hall. Large windows to the left and right of the room held windows painted with figures that were either revered ancestors or holy figures of these people. But in the dark of the night, these pictures evoked a feeling of gloom, almost as if ghosts might spring from the painted faces.

The windows couldn't keep her attention for long, however, as Elbert lead her towards a large table at the far end of the room. There sat two middle-aged women, both dressed in far finer clothing than any of the other people she had seen in this castle so far. The way they carried themselves and how looked at her made it clear that they were the ones in charge here.

The Maester, who had trailed after them like a shadow, pushed past Dorea and quickly took his place next one of the women.

"Lady Anya," Elbert bowed lightly before the woman on the right. Then he turned towards the other, "Lady Rowena."

There was obviously more affection for the latter of the two, which was understandable. If Dorea remembered correctly, the latter woman was married to Elbert's uncle, whom the knight reveres greatly. And judging by the indulgent smile on Lady Rowena's lips, she seemed rather fond of Elbert as well.

"It is good to see you back with us, healthy and whole," Lady Rowena spoke. Her voice was calm and soothing, like a mother gently speaking to her child. Dorea took an immediate liking to her, "The horrid news of this brutal attack has left us all in worry."

"There was no reason to worry. The Mountain Clans are no match for the valor of our knights. I only wish we had been faster, so we could have saved more of the villagers. All we could do was avenge them and free the women these brutes had taken."

"So the clans have been dealt with?" the other woman, Lady Anya, asked sharply. The seriousness of the woman reminded Dorea immediately of Professor McGonnagal, especially in those earlier years at Hogwarts. Strict but most likely fair. A no-nonsense type of person.

"There will be more," Elbert cautioned, "There are always more of them. They feel emboldened for some reason."

"Then our knights will quell their fervor with our steel," Lady Anya insisted. "But we are getting ahead of ourselves. We have a guest in our midst and you have not even introduced her properly."

Elbert grimaced, as Lady Anya pinned the blame on him alone, even though all of them had ignored Dorea's presence since the moment she had first set foot in this room.

"Forgive me for this," Elbert said, "This is Lady Dorea Flamel of Lys."

For a brief moment, Dorea wondered whether or not she was supposed to bow here. Both of these ladies seemed to be a big deal here, or else someone like Elbert wouldn't show such deference. But then she remembered that women in those fantasy movies she had watched as a child rarely bow. They curtsy. She tried to mimic this, though she was sure that she looked more like a dying doe than a well-mannered lady while doing it.

"She had been traveling with a merchant caravan through the valleys, but was abandoned by her companions at the first sight of trouble," Elbert continued his introduction with that stupid lie she had come up with. The more often she heard someone else say it, the stupider it sounded. Surely someone would call her out on this sometime soon.

Lady Rowena gasped in shock, while Lady Anya adopted a look of well-maintained indifference. But soon enough her expression turned into a frown.

"How despicable. To abandon a lady in such danger," the lady exclaimed, "Fear not, Lady Dorea, I will have Maester Bors send out Ravens to all other noble houses in the Vale. They will find your cowardly companions and punish them accordingly."

"Please don't," Dorea interjected quickly. She really did not want some poor guys getting punished because of her lie.

"You may be a gentle person, but such a crime deserves punishment. They should be flogged for days for such a heinous dereliction of their duties," Lady Anya insisted.

"They were afraid. They didn't do it to harm me," Dorea countered, "No one should be punished for trying to stay alive." It felt weird to argue on behalf of someone who doesn't even exist, but Dorea knew that something like this would happen again and again, for as long as she had to rely on lies to justify her presence in this world.

Lady Rowena looked oddly pale all of a sudden, as she watched Dorea, her eyes wide open in shock. "All this blood. Are you wounded, my dear. Bors, make haste to help Lady Dorea and..."

"It is alright... my lady," Dorea replied. "None of this blood is mine."

During her short confrontation with Lady Anya, Dorea had taken a step forward and fully into the light of the many candles that light up the room. Only now the two ladies at the table had realized that Dorea's robes were stained red in many places.

"Lady Dorea is a fully accomplished healer, Lady Rowena," Elbert came to Dorea's help. "She has saved the lives of many villagers today."

"A woman well versed in the healing arts? How very curious," Maester Bors mumbled, obviously louder than intended, as she quickly fell silent when Lady Anya rewarded him with a stern look.

"None the less, it wouldn't harm for the Maester to make sure that Lady Dorea is in good health," Lady Anya insisted, not giving in. "But for now a servant will escort you to a room, my lady. As Lady of House Waynwood, I welcome you to Ironoaks and offer you the full hospitality of my family."

"Thank you," Dorea replied.

Was she supposed to say more? Some sort of respectful thank you or other words of fake friendship? Dorea only knew one thing for sure, a room and possibly a bath sounded very appealing right about now.

Once she was sure that there was nothing more to say, Lady Anya quickly called for one of her servants. An elderly woman, long-limbed and thin, who bade her follow.

Elbert remained behind and their discussion quickly continued, even before Dorea had even left the room.

"Do you believe she is who she claims," Dorea heard Lady Anya ask.

Elbert replied firmly, "I have no reason to doubt her."

"No matter, I have already sent a raven to Gulltown for them to send some Flamel servants here and..."

Before Dorea could hear the rest of the statement, the servant had already ushered her out of the room. Not that the things she had heard weren't troubling enough. The Flamels would be coming here. Soon they would know where she is and then... Who knows what will happen then...

"Mione, are you not worried? We haven't heard from Rea in a week already," Ron said.

He and his wife sat at the table in the kitchen of their London flat, sharing their breakfast, something that had become increasingly rare due to their work.

"You know Rea better than anyone, Ron. She has those times when she doesn't want to be found. She will calm down, apologize and everything will be back to normal in no time," Hermione assured him.

"I don't think that will happen this time," Ron muttered.

He listlessly stabbed at his breakfast, his appetite seemingly gone for now. The rift between his best friend and his wife had long since begun to make his life miserable as well, as he wasn't sure whom to support in this case. Either woman would expect him to stand by her side, though he found neither side particularly welcoming... Not to mention the wrath of the one he would side against... he shuddered just thinking about it.

Hermione finally put down her muggle newspaper, behind which she had been hidden for nearly all of their conversation so far. She folded it neatly before she put it down on the table next to her. A weary sigh escaped her, as she saw her husband's dour mood.

"Ron, everything will be alright. We have gone through much worse and reconciled." She reached across the table and put her hand on his. "Dorea has... a difficult life and I want to help her as much as you do, but we can't help her when she obstinately refuses to accept her problems."

"Still, I'm worried about her right now, Mione," Ron insisted, "Even when she has one of her moods, she never ceases contact to everyone. Usually, she would stay in touch with someone, either me or Bill or Ginny."

"It is odd," Hermione admitted slowly, "But not unheard of."

"I will stop by Grimmauld Place before I go to work," Ron announced, "Just to check up on her. Hearing her eloquent way of telling me to sod off is better than not hearing from her at all."

"Just try not to be pushy. Merlin knows we all tried that and it never gets us anywhere with her," Hermione muttered.

For a moment Ron considered making a comment about how Hermione being pushy had caused this entire conflict but decided against it. It wouldn't solve anything and only earn him a week of sleeping on the couch. He really hates that couch and he was sure that Hermione had somehow charmed it to be even more uncomfortable in an effort to stop him from lazing around too much.

He stood up and rounded the table. With one kiss as a goodbye, he left Hermione and their home and apparated to an alley near Grimmauld Place. He could only hope that his surrogate sister would be more willing to put an end to this senseless quarrel.

It was still weird to just see Grimmauld Place sitting there in between Numbers 11 and 13. The Fidelius charm was no longer needed these days, so no one had bothered to cast a new one after Headmaster Dumbledore's death. But for Ron, the already creepy ancestral home of House Black appeared even more daunting when it looked so... muggle.

What worried him more, though, was the fact that the front door was unlocked. Dorea had lost most of her trust in their society after the war, which had resulted in her adopting some of Mad Eye's more paranoid mannerisms. Leaving the front door unlocked was an obvious sign for trouble.

The house itself seemed entirely normal, as he entered. The place no longer looked as it once had. Gone was the doom and gloom atmosphere, replaced by a more homely feeling. Dorea had made this place truly hers, though she had kept some of the old the Black's more... questionable artifacts and artworks. The shrieking painting of Walburga Black being one of those.

Strangely enough, the painting remained silent as he passed. Actually, it was completely still.

At this point, Ron was sure that something was amiss. Something must have happened, so he pulled out his wand, ready to defend himself if need be.

'Clack. Clack.'

A strange noise in the kitchen made him pause for a moment. He listened carefully, but the sound was gone again. None the less, Ron proceeded further into the house, applying charms to make himself less noticeable and muffle the sounds of his steps.

The corridor was dark, seemingly without end and utterly barren of anything. The creepy collections of old paintings and trophies had been thrown out long ago, thanks to his own mother's zealous crusade to make the house a proper home for Dorea. It was obvious, though, that the girl had not even attempted to decorate the house ever since...

'Clack. Clack.'

The strange noise was there again. Much closer this time. It had come from the kitchen, he was sure of it. The room was nearby. He could actually see its door, standing slightly ajar, daring him to enter.

He peered inside, careful to remain undetected, but he couldn't see anything.

'Clack. Clack.'

There is it was again, that strange noise. It came from the far end of the room, where washbasin was located. Ron remembered that place well, after the many hours his mother had forced him to clean dishes there. Slave labor... many unhappy memories...

He forced himself to focus on the task ahead. Slowly he pushed the door further open until the opening was big enough for him to slip through. For a moment Ron hesitated. Maybe it would have been better to call for backup the moment he had noticed that something was wrong. But it was too late now.

With all the Gryffindor courage he could muster, he stormed into the room, wand in hand and ready to curse whatever intruder he might find. What he did find, though, was far less dangerous than he had anticipated.

At the other end of the room, he could see the lone figure of Dorea's old House Elf. Kreacher stood there, shoulders slumped and head hanging, as he washed a dozen plates and stacked them on the other side of the washbasin. Once he was done, he repeated the entire exercise, only in the other direction.

Ron did not put his wand away, though, as he approached the Elf. His behavior was strange, even for Kreacher's personal brand of crazy. Once Ron was close enough, the Elf finally acknowledged his presence.

"Mistress is not here anymore. She won't be back," the Elf said, his voice monotonous and tired.

Ron frowned as he heard this.

"What do mean she is gone?" he demanded to know. "Dorea wouldn't just leave for good without saying goodbye."

On the other hand, he had to admit, it wasn't entirely unexpected. Hermione had warned all of their friends that Dorea might sooner or later just leave and never come back. Their friend had been restless ever since the war and while they all had continued with their lives and moved on to the next big adventures, Dorea had never found a place for herself. Even Ministry Drone Percy had realized that after the last family dinner Dorea had attended and he wasn't exactly close... or emotionally... human to understand others.

"Gone. Mistress had stunned me and collected her personal belongings. Everything is gone except for her broom. She had taken everything and left. Even the bad master's motorcycle," Kreacher elaborated.

Having been abandoned by his mistress seemed to have hit the Elf even harder than the death of his previous master had. But Ron was more concerned about Dorea's sudden escape. Did she really get away without saying a word? No goodbye, no reason? Such a drastic step...

"When...?" For a moment his voice failed him. "When did she leave?"

"Days... many days. A week, maybe more," Kreacher mumbled, as he began washing the pates once more.

Ron just stood there in stunned silence. Almost one week? That would mean that Dorea left shortly after their last conversation. Had she already planned to escape at that time? That his best friend, no, his sister, thought it best to just run away ... The thought of it hurt Ron the most. He could not believe this. He had to see it with his own eyes, just to understand it.

So he hurried out of the kitchen and into the stairwell. He ran up the stairs, almost falling as he took several steps at once. In a hurry, he quickly reached her bedroom on the topmost floor.

What he found there was chaos. Everything Dorea could not take was scattered on the floor. Some of the drawers even looked like they had been pulled out in such a hurry that they had broken. Did Dorea want to escape in such a hurry that she damaged her own furniture?

Something was rotten here. He was sure something was wrong. He had learned enough in his Auror training to recognize a potential crime scene, and Dorea's room had enough visible traces to make him suspicious.

But he knew better than investigating this alone. He would need help or else he might miss something or worse, destroy important evidence. Luckily, he knew more than enough trustworthy people to help him here. People who would do something to help Dorea should need it. He had to make a few visits first...

A/N: That's all for now.

I'm not sure how good or bad this chapter was, but I'm trying to get back on track with what I had planned for this story.

There are two things that I want to make clear now because both had been asked in Messages before.

1. This story will not be a Rhaegar/fem!Harry story. I have the rewrite of Phoenix Queen for this pairing, so I won't do it here as well.

2. I refuse to show Ron as some bumbling idiot. Though his appearances will be sparse, I will try to show him more like the man he had been in the books, not the bumbling idiot he had been in the movies because the director had a crush on Hermione and gave every good moment Ron had to her.

As for this chapter, Dorea has now arrived at Ironoaks, the ancestral home of House Waynwood. The Waynwoods have played an important role in the politics of the Vale and are loyal to House Arryn. The Lord of House Waynwood, Lymond, is an OC, mostly because we don't know anything about her father. We don't even know her age, but in the books, she had been very old. A grandmother, who rules her House well. The presence of an OC won't matter much, as he won't have much of an impact. Anya will be the future Lady of House Waynwood, because even though her Uncle Elys is still around, she has sons, male heirs to the family whereas Elys' only son died at the age of 3 from a severe case of horseagainsthead.

Dorea's time in the Vale has just begun and there are more places to visit, like Gulltown and the Eyrie. But that is for future chapters...