Ron awoke with a thumping headache and a broken heart. Everything he loved was steadily moving out of his direction, snaking out of control and reach. Ginny and Dumbledore were dead, Voldermort was back, his teacher killed the headmaster and his brother was half-wolf. Great. Turning to go downstairs, he got dressed and grabbed his mobile that his parents had recently bought for him. "Mum," he called, "Dad, anyone. I'm leaving now. Harry, Hermione and I are going over a plan. Text me to say anything." Walking past all the doors, he heard sobs come from the direction of his mother and father's bedroom. Embarrassed to knock, he opened the door and gently told her of where he was going. She wiped her eyes. Ron, suddenly angry, closed the door and walked back to his room, taking the time to try and calm down. "Ron?" a tentative call came from the wardrobe. Oh no. Not the Boggart. Please not that shape. Please. The door burst open and what appeared to be Ginny climbed out. Tears steadily coursed down his cheeks. Because the idea of Ginny being brought back and used by him scared him. It was the worst. And he could do nothing. Too scared, too idiotic. You idiot, Ron Weasley. You'll wake up again, and everyone will laugh and your mother will embarrass you again by hugging you till your ribs crack. Like she used to do. But what's the point of 'what ifs?'
Once he had dried up of tears and faced the Boggart, he Apparated (something he had just learnt to do) to the Leaky Cauldron. "Ron, m'boy! How are you?" a drunken shout arose from someone near the back. He gave that direction a glare and stepped through the mess of broken glass on the floor. "This place is a mess," he remarked calmly. "As are all of you." He stepped to the safety of the back door and pressed the bricks, like Hagrid had taught them. The once noisy, bustling and cheerful atmosphere of Diagon Alley had vanished to a sombre, grey background. Crashing into Harry and Hermione as they walked into him through the Invisibility Cloak. Crashing to the ground, his head cracked against a signpost. What he would never see in this form would be people crowding around him, worrying.