Chapter 17

He'd closed his eyes in panic and apparated, having absolutely no clue where he was going. When he opened them he saw he was outside of a small village, standing in a cow pasture with snow up to his knees. The animals, which were a good fifty feet off, took no notice of him as he hurriedly scrambled out between a strange wire barrier with a generous helping of sharp metal points . He ripped his jacket.

He stood swaying on a frozen path that had tracks running both ways, and found he was having some difficulty regaining his bearings after his flight from the field. He ended up dropping his pack and sitting heavily on it once again, leaning on his knees to keep upright and taking deep breaths to calm himself. He had never felt so out of sorts after apparating, not even after he left Hogwarts and went straight to Brussel in two leaps. He ended up sitting right beside the cow pasture for a good half hour, feeling his limbs slowly begin to numb under the cold weather even as he regained his strength. When he finally felt up to it he shouldered his heavy pack and trudged into the town, ignoring the puffs of air that appeared at each breath and the way his nose had seemed to have already lost feeling in its tip. Where the hell had he apparated? He was learning fast that his method of transport didn't work under regular wizarding guidelines. Normally apparating took exact coordinates in mind, and even then wizards didn't always end up where they were going. Ron could apparently arrive anywhere that his subconscious could take him, because he sure as hell had no idea where he was now.

He shoved his chilled hands in his pockets and walked by a group of older women wearing heavy shawls over their heads. They looked at him suspiciously as he passed but didn't comment. It wasn't a large place he noticed, just a small community that no doubt survived from its farming in the summer and maybe some mining. He went into the first pub he saw (the only pub they had he suspected) and was greeted with warm air and absolute silence. Well, his appearance had never shut a room up so fast before…he usually had to open his big mouth first.

He stood frozen on the spot a moment, not knowing how to react as the men (he couldn't see any women) watched him, waiting. Most of them had deep lines in their faces, born of long hard labour in the elements, and they looked right threatening as they gripped their drinks and glared. He considered turning around and leaving, but then he would need to apparate again, and he really didn't have the energy for that at the moment. He was utterly exhausted in fact, his energy high, gained while finding help for Tonks, had worn off and the trauma he had suffered was beginning to get the better of him. So, without knowing what to do he looked at the bartender across the way and called out.

"Scotch please." The man snorted and reached up for a glass, muttering something in a language Ron didn't recognize under his breath. That seemed to break the ice as eyes averted and the quiet conversation started up again as he went to the bar, weaving carefully through tables with his large burden. He sat in the corner, keeping an eye on the room and waited as the man finished pouring his drink and walked over to him.

"You old enough?" He asked in a thick accent, eyeing Ron with what was probably meant to be suspicion. Ron knew that he would get the drink so long as he could pay. He looked at the man and raised his eyebrows expectantly, waiting. The man put the glass down and walked off, leaving him alone to stare into it. He didn't really want it, but it was the first drink he could think of on the spot, as he doubted they sold hot butterbeer. He'd never really enjoyed alcohol very much, unless it was mixed with something to mask the taste, but at the moment he felt he needed something strong. He picked up the glass and downed it in one gulp. It tasted horrible, and he had to struggle hard to not cough with the burn. He heard several men laugh and his face turned red in response but he pointedly didn't look at them. He really didn't care what they thought, he just needed some information and then he'd find a place to rest. He'd head out in the morning.

He ordered tea next, and the bar tender laughed but got it for him nonetheless.

"From England." He stated, putting a sugar bowl on the table. Ron nodded in response. "No milk, sorry."

"No problem." He replied. He hadn't had tea in a long time, he really didn't care what it tasted like. The man didn't move away this time though, instead he was watching Ron in interest and this irritated him. "Something wrong?"

"Wondering why you're here is all, we don't have many tourists. You're the first in three years."

"Doesn't say much about your hospitality." Great, how about he insults the man right off the bat, great way to get a helping hand. However the man seemed to think this was funny, and chuckled. "I'm just passing through." He offered, hoping it took away the edge of his first comment.

"No doubt. The police far behind?" Ron looked up sharply and sat straighter on his stool.

"There's no police."

"All right, we're not the types to rat on you, no need to get defensive."

"You speak English very well."

"My mother is the town's teacher." Ron nodded and looked at his cup a moment, trying to decide how to subtly ask his question.

"So, what's your town called?" Well, Bill had always been the subtle one of the family…sometimes.

"What kind of man wanders into a town without knowing where he is?"

"One who's lost." That answer seemed to satisfy him.

"Our town is named Drasgov."

"Right, Drasgov. Which country is this?" The man frowned, looking at him astounded. "I'm very lost." Ron supplied, hoping he hadn't pushed his luck. Maybe he should give the man a gold coin.

"You must be, but I'm not here to question your intelligence. You are in Romania, we are at the base of the eastern Carpathian Mountains." Now that sounded familiar. Well, he had grown up listening to Charlie talk about Romania, more specifically how easy it was to get lost in the mountains…and how dangerous it could be. Right, apparently he was subconsciously trying to get himself killed. Ron nodded slowly to himself. It was still light out, he needed to get a hotel room and find out where to exchange his gold for some local money.

"Is there a hotel around?"

"No, as I said, we are not known for tourism."

"What are you known for?"

"We are just a town, same as most others."

"I see." Though he really didn't, nor did he care all that much.

"I have a room in the back, it has a cot in it. You can stay there, so long as you can pay." Ron fished into his pocket and pulled out his second gold coin of the day and looked at it carefully a moment. He didn't want to toss them around too much, he might need them for a long time to survive, especially as wizards lived much longer then the average muggle. The man looked at it intently and Ron figured, what the hell. He could probably use it more and slid it to him.

"This real?"

"Real and expensive."

"It'll do. Come along." Ron picked up his bag and followed the much shorter man, ignoring the way the others had once again stopped their conversations to watch him. They went through a heavy wooden door, through a tiny cooker where a short woman (perhaps his wife?) was preparing the food for the evenings possible customers.

"Toilet." The man tapped on a door they passed and then pushed open what looked like a supply closet. That was exactly what it was, but there was a cot pressed along the one wall and enough room on the floor for his pack. It was a damn sight cosier then his last room. "Dinner's in an hour."

"Is there a place I can get local currency, in exchange for coins like the one I gave you?"

"Try the antique dealer, he's on the other side of town. He's closed now, but he opens early."

"Right, thanks." The owner of the establishment looked at Ron carefully a moment, from head to toe, and sighed. "After you eat I will have a bath set in the back store room, you look like you could use one." Ron smiled weakly and thanked him, closing the door and sitting heavily on the bed, it was well padded. He left the light on as he lay down, trying to relax. It didn't work very well, so he settled for watching the ceiling and staring suspiciously at the door every time he heard a sound outside. Dinner was a loud affair as the locals seemed to gain in energy and quantity in the evening. Ron forced himself to eat what he could stomach, sticking to the potato's and a few carrots before heading back to his closet. It was five minutes later when the lady who did all the cooking came and knocked loudly. He opened the door and she reached to grab his arm, as if to help lead him out of the room. He jerked back hurriedly, feeling the heat rush to his face as he realized his actions. Honestly, she was a tiny lady and he didn't fear her at all, but the idea of her touching him made him panic. She paused mid way, looked at him strangely a moment before pulling back and nodding her head to a place down the hall.

"Bat." She said, stepping back and expecting him to follow. Bat? He stepped out and looked down the hall, following her as she led the way. She made no more moves to touch him. "Bat." She opened the door and he looked in to see a metal trough filled with steaming water.

"Oh, bath." He stared at it in astonishment, he had forgotten that the bartender had promised him one. He looked at her and smiled gratefully. "Thank you."

The room was cold, but the water had been delicious as he slowly lowered himself in, feeling the warmth engulf his limbs. Of course he was too large to be able to submerse his entire body, but there was a cloth that helped him with that. He spent an hour in it, scrubbing until his pale skin was pink and his hair had never been cleaner. He fingered a few marks on his chest, staring blankly at them, assessing them. There were some from the chakra spell, though the one on his forehead had closed and healed without scaring (surprisingly). The others were still looking fresh, pink skin pulled together to form a bumpy little line that was still partially open in places. He healed faster then was average, but being so run down it was taking longer then was normal. He left the tub, feeling warm for the first time in a long time, and went back to his room.

He dozed off a few times, but that was all, the people at the bar were loud and he couldn't drop his guard. He didn't want too.

He got up before the sun and was making himself some toast in the kitchen when the woman came in and shoed him out. He was embarrassed and grateful to see that she still made no attempt to touch him. He went into the main room and saw that the owner was already there, cleaning glasses he had left from the night before. He grinned at Ron's harried appearance.

"She doesn't get to fuss over people in the morning often, and you making your own breakfast spoiled her plan." Ron didn't quite know what to say, so he settled for trying to make himself useful and picked up a drying cloth. They worked in silence until Ron realized he had no idea what this mans name was. It hadn't been important before.

"What's yer name?

"Tomaz Oryakhova." He made as if to hold out his hand to shake with Ron, then pulled it back as though thinking better of it.

"Ron." He supplied and picked up another glass, trying to pretend he hadn't seen the aborted attempt at formalities. A few minutes later Ron put down the towel and looked around, not quite sure what to do with himself now. It had been a long while since he'd had the freedom to decide, and before that there was always something going on. He was in completely foreign territory now.

"Piotr opens his store in an hour, it will be light then. Perhaps you would like to examine a map of my country before you head over?" He was already pulling out a long roll of paper, its edges were frayed and yellow and Ron was careful as he opened it and spread it along one of the rooms large tables. The lights were dim in this place, the muggle electricity obviously not supplied in abundance, but Ron had absolutely no problem in these conditions. He could see in the dark after all. He took note of all the main towns in the area and looked carefully at the mountains, noting that they were populated only at very specific points. No doubt the people around here had to be careful of Dragons and other creatures, seeing as this was a country abundant with such things.

"Your town isn't on here." He stated, looking carefully.

"No, people do not care to note such a small place. There are a few others like us, we mainly keep to ourselves. This is why your appearance caused a stir yesterday."

"Did it?"

"We haven't had so many people here in over two weeks, and there are no more birthdays to celebrate until next month."

Ron poured over the map until the hour was almost up, then he rolled it up carefully and handed it back. He took all his money and left his bag, heading into the frigid air and marching up the only road in the town. The Antique dealer, being across town, was less then a five minute walk away and Ron was pushing through the door in no time. The store wasn't much warmer then outside, but there was no wind. Ron wasn't bothered by the cold or the eerie silence of the place, it reminded him of the library back at school.

"My brother told me you'd be by." A man as tall as Ron, though he stooped a bit, smiled at him as he moved slowly through the store, passing tables and shelves stuffed full of different things. Ron didn't know what half of it was for.

"This is an odd place for an antique store."

"It is, but much of my customers are not from town." Ron looked at him carefully, seeing a twinkle in his pale brown eyes.

"Tomaz said this town never saw visitors."

"What this town doesn't see does not hurt them. I understand you want to exchange some gold coins for currency?" Ron looked at him a moment in suspicion but pulled a coin out anyways, tossing it to him casually to keep a distance. The man took it and went to a desk at the side of the room, there was a machine that looked like register on it but the man ignored it as he examined the coin more carefully. After a few minutes he gave Ron a brief rundown of how their currency worked and what he would give him for the coin. Ron agreed, thinking that maybe the lady at the pawn shop in Ireland had blindsided him. When he had the odd paper money and some coins stuffed in his jeans pockets he went to look around the store, mindful that he was being watched with interest.

There was a great amount of things packed into all corners. Books sat with a layer of dust settled lightly on top, there were some candle stick holders polished to a high gleam, a globe that sat on a dark wooden base and a small box that looked like it was carved from ivory. He moved along, sometimes picking up items and looking at them for curiosities sake. He didn't really need to be doing this, but he felt compelled. It wasn't as though he had somewhere pressing to be.

"Where will you go, when you leave Drasgov?" Ron put down the wooden monkey with a bobbing head and moved to the next item.

"Somewhere else."

"I see, I only ask because everywhere else is so far, and there are few in this town who would be willing to drive you anywhere."

"I won't need a ride." There was silence then as he continued to browse, moving down to a rack of things that didn't look so antique. There was rope and some strange glass balls with metal coming out of one end. He looked at it in curiosity, he could see two little metal pieces sticking up in the center with a curled bit attaching them. Strange. He put it down and examined the rope. There was quite a bit of it. Next he picked up a wooden stake, wondering what on earth it was for.

"It's generally used to kill vampires, you stab it into their hearts."

"If you stab anything into their hearts you'll kill them just as well." Ron tossed it back on the table and moved on.

"You must be careful with what you say around here young man, admitting to that knowledge is as good as getting yourself killed in these parts." Ron froze and turned slowly to face the shop owner. The man was sitting at his desk, flipping through a book. He wore big round spectacles, just like Harry's had been. Piotr looked up and smiled kindly at him. "I only say this so you'll know once you leave the store."

"You tricked me." Ron crossed his arms.

"Merely answered a question of my own."

"Which was?"

"How you managed to get to this town alive. It is a harsh road which leads here, and most don't survive on foot. There are things beyond our fields that do not plague the towns marked on maps."

"I didn't meet any of them on my journey."

"I suppose not." The Romanian answered, not looking the least put out by Ron's denial. He turned back and moved to a rack of jackets that looked much warmer then the one he currently wore. He pulled out a brown one that reached all the way to the floor and looked at it in interest. It was made of a leather he didn't recognize and was heavy. There were a few pockets lining the inside but other then that it was very simple in design. It reminded him of his school robes, only less baggy.

"That was worn by a chap I knew a few years back, a trapper he was. Claimed the jacket hid him from the damndest things when he was walking through the wood. He had it sent to me when he died, knew I would find the right person for it. It matches your hair nicely." Ron draped it over the rack where he could grab it when he went to pay. He passed by a rack with an assortment of swords, not even looking at them, and came to a box filled with an assortment of odd things. Was that a whip? He dug through the box and grasped its handle, pulling it out carefully. It had a black handle wrapped in some odd sort of thick tape and its cord fell to the ground, uncoiling gracefully and pooling where it lay, as though it were waking up. He felt an energy thrumming through it and looked at it curiously.

"I've had that for years, can't even remember where I go it. It's excellent craftsmanship as far as I can tell, but I'm no expert on weapons. The few who have been interested could never get it to work for them, despite their skill." Ron listened to the commentary half heartedly and twirled his wrist around lightly, like he would have his wand. The handle was getting warm in his palm as he stared at it. Well, he didn't have a clue how to use one of these, so it would be a waste of his money. He went to put it back in the box when the tape suddenly split right up the handle and a warm red leather like substance pulled out and wrapped itself around his wrist, somehow completely avoiding the bangle that was also there. He yelled and stumbled back in shock, crashing loudly into the table of books behind him.

"What the bloody ghoul is it!" He yelled, trying to pry it off with his other hand. It was warm and refused to budge. Piotr was bursting around his desk and across the room at a surprising speed, headed right at him. "Stop!" Ron ordered, feeling panicked and not liking this situation one bit. He held up his arm to protect himself without even realizing he was moving until he had. The Romanian stopped immediately, only a few feet away, and watched as the whips cord dangled almost fluidly from Ron's wrist. Ron glared at him.

"Did you know it did this?" He demanded, all friendliness absent from his voice as he glared at the man. It was the same tone he had used with Malfoy on the Hogwarts Express only two years before, and it seemed to make the shop owner just as nervous.

"I had no idea! I swear to you! I thought it was just a whip!"

"Well it bloody well isn't, is it? Do they normally attach themselves to people?" Ron looked back and forth between the man and the thing attached to his arm, not sure which to be more chary of. The whip hadn't budged since attaching itself to him. He glared at the antique dealer and, after a moment, decided that he was telling the truth. Ron relaxed a bit and looked at his wrist in dismay.

"Is this a selling tactic?"

"Not until recently apparently." Piotr had also relaxed a bit, but Ron could sense the man was suddenly more respectful of him, more cautious. He carefully pulled at the hanging black tape, peeling it the rest of the way off, and he could have sworn he felt the sense of relief coming from it. Okay, this was different. He looked at the handle that had become malleable, noting that it retained its basic cylindrical shape but had flattened out a bit. He wondered…

"I'm not going to put you down." He told it, and suddenly it was unwrapping and sitting in the palm of his hand again. He looked at it carefully, seeing that the red was mixed with a coppery colour that shimmered and spread over it, catching in different angles of light. There were etchings carved into it at its hilt but he didn't understand what they meant. That was all there was to it, though the red-copper colour mixed with the blackness of the cord before becoming black flecked with the same copper colour. Actually the cord didn't look like it was woven at all, it looked more like a rats tail.

"This is bloody strange."

"I can't say I understand it myself, but it would appear that it's rather fond of you."

"The pup I couldn't leave behind." Ron looked at it, feeling the warmth spreading up his lower arm. It didn't stop the pain from the vile wristlet, but it was masking it a bit, and he was beginning to like that. "Will you let me put you down?" He asked it, feeling ridiculous as he moved to slowly place it back in the box. He didn't get very far as this time the handle almost liquefied and spilt between his fingers and down his knuckles in fine rivulets, weaving about until covered the back of his hand, part of his palm, up his middle and index fingers, and around his wrist. He stared at it in confusion, noting that the oddly patched veins looked like leather built into his skin. Flexing his hand experimentally he noted that he could barely tell it was there, well, except for the long black cord that jutted awkwardly from the center of his palm and trailed to the floor, flowing in response to his every movement. He sighed.

"All right, I'll take it as well I guess." Sensing his decision to keep it, the trailing whip slid from his palm to his wrist, thinned out drastically and began winding itself up his arm. He tried to remain still as the tip of the whip last disappeared under his sleeve and he felt it wrap over his shoulder and then around his torso several times, coming to rest finally by his right hip. The thing was bloody long!

"Well." Piotr looked at Ron, a sudden grin on his face. "I can't say that that's something you see everyday." Ron glared at him.

"I'll take the jacket and whip." He moved back and grabbed the coat, shirking off the one he wore and donning the other. It fell to halfway down his calves and didn't feel as comfortable as his robes, but it was a damn sight better then his other one. He placed the items on the table.

"Might I suggest a few more items?" It was a question, but the shop keeper was already walking over to the clothing stand and rummaging about. Moments later he came back with a pair of worn brown gloves (made from the same material as the jacket), a simple black wool hat, a wrap like the women wore over their heads, and a pair of the oddest boots he'd ever seen. They were a pale tan colour, made from some animal hide and looked like they would probably travel up to his knees. He looked at the man in question.

"You cannot stay in this town long my friend, the people are very suspicious and, as I said earlier, do not take kindly to those that are not…normal. You are not normal, though you do a convincing job of acting it so long as strange objects cease attaching themselves to you. These items will help you on your journey, where ever you decide to go."

"Fine, just tell me the price." Ron paid for it all and went straight back to the pub. The towns folk were beginning to wander the streets, they watched him as he walked by. Piotr was right, he didn't want to stay long.

He switched his shoes for the boots, surprised that they fit and wondering why he didn't think to check before purchasing them. The scarf wrapped warmly around his neck under the jacket and he made sure his gloves hid the odd object that now traveled up his arm and over his body. It was warm wherever it lay, and he felt it every time it moved its position, as though trying to get comfortable. He didn't know what to think of it, but figured for now he would just accept its presence. It didn't seem dangerous.

He left quietly, walking down the main road with his pack and heading back out of town the way he came in, following the road until he reached the dense forest. The forest itself traveled past his distance of clear sight and up the looming Carpathian Mountains. There was a lot of wild terrain, and his plan was to get lost in it. He could make out several villagers at the edge of their town, watching him, waiting for him to go into the forest. He obliged, happy to leave their accusing gazes. When he was out of sight he closed his eyes and apparated.

TBC

First of all I apologize for the wait, but now that I am home (after coming in close and daring contact with wild black bears, crashing onto rocky outcroppings in the worlds best built canoe, climbing dangerous rock faces, building fires, coming face to face with vicious white tailed deer and being victorious after the battle of the chipmunks) I can update! Hope you enjoyed!

I'm very glad you enjoyed how the twins came across! They are so much fun to write! (I'm glad you enjoyed that line Scribhneoir, I wasn't sure if people would find it as amusing as it was meant to be) As for Hermione, I was sorry not to include her but as life goes on not everyone can be involved at once :( Do not worry, it wouldn't be a Harry Potter fic without her!

LK, sounds like your in trouble with Harry Lvr

And honestly, did you think I could kill Harry so soon in the story! We're only halfway through!

Thank you all for your continuous support! You're all wonderful!

Next Update: August 26, 2005