Ron promptly passed out.
When he came to, a student was standing over him, looking extremely worried.
"Hey. Dude. You all right?"
"uuhhhh…yeah, Harry, I guess I'm ok. You wouldn't believe the drea…" he stopped as his eyes slid up towards the boy's head.
He had red hair.
"Harry? Who's Harry?" the unknown redhead looked confused. "My name is Arthur."
"Arthur?"
"Yeah. Arthur Weasley."
Ron passed out again.
When he revived in the strange new—or old, he could never figure out how to think of it—common room, there was something soft and cool on his forehead. He pulled it off—a washcloth. He remembered how his mum would do that when he didn't feel well.
His mum. He jerked back up into a sitting position and saw the plump witch that was sitting next to that redheaded kid—HIS FATHER.
"Wha—" he seemed to be having some trouble finding his voice.
"Don't worry. You're all right, you just took a nasty fall." She certainly sounded like his mother, only younger. "Y'know, I've never seen you around Hogwarts before. And you're certainly not a first year," She was looking at him with WAY too much interest now. "So…who are you?"
Ron gaped. Was his own mother HITTING ON HIM?!?
"Er—uh—yeah. Thanks. Where's that guy?" He looked around, thinking he might still be there. He wasn't—thank God—but he recognized his robes, wadded up in a corner.
"WAIT. Why are my clothes over there?" He looked down at himself. "And whose pajamas are these?"
"Oh, don' worry, Arthur did that. I didn' look…" she giggled a little. "by the way, my name's Molly…" she giggled some more.
Ron barely refrained from cringing at the thought that just popped into his brain. "Can I have my clothes back? Then, could you leave?"
She kindly did so, but not without a final glance at him as she left the room.
Ron muttered to himself as he quickly put his robes back on.
"Ok, Ron, you've woken up in the 70's, you don't know how you got here, and you're mum's giggling around you like a love-struck idiot. Now, HOW IN THE WORLD COULD THIS HAVE HAPPENED????? WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS?????? Yeah, I stole that little necklace-thing from Hermione last night, bu—"
He froze, halfway through putting on his socks.
THE NECKALCE-THING.
He started frantically rifling through the rest of his clothes and in his pockets, looking for it.
"No, no, no…I can't believe of all things, I stole a TIME TRAVEL DEVICE!!!! Where is it, where is it…" his fingers poked through a hole in his robe pocket.
"It's not here!"
He stood, knocking over the bedside table, and started searching every nook and cranny in the room. He could hear his mum call from behind the door, "You all right? Do I need to come in there?", but he really wasn't listening.
After about 20 minutes he stood, panting heavily.
The necklace was no longer in the room. He had no clue as to where it could be, in a castle the size of a small town.
He was stuck.
a.n for any smarties out there, think Michael J. Fox, and you might find my inspiration for this piece. If not, I'll tell you next chapter, providing you read it. PLEASE READ IT…(begs)