Disclaimer: I totally don't own anything related to Harry Potter.

Chapter Seven

The Other Side of the Fence

Over the years, Ronald Weasley had been many things. He had been hotheaded, slow-witted uninspired, lazy, misguided, below average, short sighted, clueless, and, of course, arachnophobic. He could, to his dismay, count the number of good qualities he possessed on one hand, and, to his further dismay, when critically re-evaluating his life experiences, discovered that many of his apparent good qualities often took a back seat to one or more of his shortcomings. All in all, Ron was a failure. And, nestled comfortably in his small cot, beset by the orange glow of sunlight reflecting off his innumerable Cannons posters, Ron started to realize his own inferiority. At first, amidst the muffled din of conversation and activity that was taking place down below, Ron felt both heavy and tired from this knowledge. It wasn't even so much that he was a below average person, he decided. No, it was more that the circumstances of his life demanded that he rise to be above average. You're a sheltered sod, he thought. You act like a sheltered sod. People treat you like one. Nobody ever treated Harry like a sheltered sod, and so he doesn't act like one. Hermione, he supposed, fell somewhere in the middle. She was a sheltered sod too, but she also, for some odd reason, had the presence of mind to escape. probably due to her acute obsession with information gathering. You just couldn't put a muzzle on someone who kept asking questions.

It hadn't been two weeks into the summer and Ron had already begun to feel a sinking sensation in his gut. He had never before contemplated - not in any meaningful sense, anyway - what his future life was going to look like. He had fancied himself a Quidditch player at one point, and an auror at another. He had even considered life like his dad, toiling away at the ass end of the Ministry, content to generate babies hand over fist and bring home modest pay to an overbearing, domineering wife. he had even picked Hermione to be that special someone that would help him continue the Weasley legacy. Those dreams, which had once been close to his heart, now seemed to be draining away, oozing out of his skin like perspiration, or settling into his bowels for discharge at a later date. There was something in him that was disappearing and it was leaving a hollowness in its place. An emptiness, like a vacuum and his body was not happy with it.

"Ron!" came the ringing call of his mother, who had clearly realized that he had forgotten to de-gnome the garden, and was now ready to chastise him for it. Shrugging his melancholy mood to the back of his mind, Ron descended the splintered and creaking steps to the main floor, where he spied about for signs of life. Beyond the doorway in the kitchen, he could hear his mother bustling about. Ginny was probably upstairs lazing about or flipping through one of her endless copies of Teen Witch Weekly. Rustling up his Gryffindor courage, Ron entered the kitchen and braced for impact.

"Ron, there you are!" his mother cried out in her usual, overdramatic, motherly way. "What did I tell you about-"

"The garden?"

"Yes!"

"Every day I'm late doing it, I lose a knut on my monthly allowance. Yes, I remember." The weariness from before threatened to flood back in, and, in an attempt to preempt it, Ron gave his mother a disarming smile and strode purposefully out the back kitchen door and into the garden, his will bent on beginning the tedious process of extricating the quasi-sentient potato-like creatures from their property.

The sun was about, the sky was a clear blue, owls drifted lazily by as if enjoying the perfect temperature that had settled over Ottery St. Catchpole. A light wind rustled through the grass as Ron knelt down and yanked the first gnome by its thick, matted hair. He swung it about, cognizant of the all too familiar sensation of the centripetal force pulling at his biceps right before he gave it the customary send off. About fifty yards away, he could make out Fleur transfiguring objects around the house, probably to make the premises look prettier for the upcoming wedding. Given that the Burrow had been continuously collecting wards over the past year, it had become one of the most heavily guarded homes in Britain. He supposed it made sense, since, despite their financial situation, they were one of the oldest pureblood families. His parents probably had secret wards known only to them; much like the Malfoys, Parkinsons, Zabinis, etc.

Wards, Ron mused, noting the swish as his next victim went sailing through the air. He had never given much thought to the concept until now, for even he, as blind as he was to the more subtle arts of magic, could now feel the intensity of the energy that permeated the boundaries of his home. It was like a chronic tingle that rushed and ebbed and rushed again, depending on the time of day, the place where he was, his feelings, even. It was electric and often comforting, despite being a stark reminder of the very real danger they were all in. As the sun settled across the reddening horizon, Ron caught the sound of a crow cawing in the distance, and soon the faint smell of smoke caught his attention. It was drifting lazily through the air, light at first and thickening as time past. Peripherally, he noticed Bill return and sweep his fiancée into the air, the sound of her inarticulate cries of joy piercing the quietude. Even from this distance, Ron could feel the effects of her vila charm; something he had grown to loathe since his return. It wasn't so much the embarrassment from having everyone know that he was being affected, the loss of attention, of focus, which was acutely difficult to bear in Hermione's presence. No, it wasn't that, at least not primarily. What he hated most about it, was the feeling like he couldn't even control his mind. It was that he was affected more than others; more than he felt he ought to be, especially now that he was with Hermione. Ron pursed his lips and was gearing up to tear the last gnome from the garden when the smell of smoke assaulted his senses once again. Only this time, it was accompanied by the smell of burnt wood and the acrid smell of burning hair. Glancing around, Ron could not find anything out of the ordinary, but that wasn't saying much. Wizards, despite the obvious flaws of the sense, relied too heavily on their vision. Ron picked his way toward where he thought the smell was coming from, scaling the Burrow's fence and dropping into a crouched position in the shadows of the unknown spaces between his and the neighbour's lawn. They lived in a community interspersed with wizards and muggles alike. He knew the Lovegoods were about somewhere, and wondered idly if they were in the direction he was now heading.

The area was typically suburban, though the houses tended to range in size and quality. some were narrow and others squat; some brick and one was adobe - which clearly had to be a magical home. The houses tended to have sprawling lawns that made them each look more like an acreage - especially with the long, flat expanse of grass in which a muggle playpark was situated. As Ron made it to the end of his street, his nose taking him as far as he could go before the smell of burning substances overwhelmed him from all sides, he took a moment to watch the children laughing and prancing about, chasing one another, kicking sand into the clear late afternoon air, oblivious to the dark days in which they lived. Ron's gaze fell on a home across the street. There was something funny about it, though he couldn't quite put his fingers on what the problem was. Screwing up his face in concentration, he peered closely at the windows to see what it was. To his dismay, he couldn't make out anything - not even the type of blinds they were using. Ron glanced about again, feeling as though he were exposed somehow, and on the cusp of something extremely dangerous. And then it hit him. The thing that made their house somehow different from others - that thing that made it seem darker, more full of shadows. There was some sort of repulsion charm, or confundus charm or something on the windows. Something more than the usual muggle blockers. No someone was doing something rather private in there, and Ron suddenly got an uneasy feeling about it. Sure, people were allowed to do private things, but from what he understood, fog charms and other devices were the regime of defense spells. They were the kind of stuff that was used in espionage, not as a privacy ward. For those, people preferred having faux images or enchanted shutters. Fog and confundus charms were multi-layered and designed to ward off more than just passersby. Possibly even Moody's magical eye.

And so, standing there, Ron suddenly felt lost. He felt like he were at a crossroads, not just because he was at a t-intersection, or because he had to decide whether he was going to Hogwarts next term, though that was part of it. He had to decide whether he was going to go forward and investigate, or whether he was going to go home and pretend that nothing was going on. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, where his conscience lay - he knew that he was not destined for greatness like Harry. He wasn't the kind of guy who pulled off a patronus at the age of thirteen. Harry had been given great responsibility, and the means to fulfill those responsibilities. Ron was not, but that didn't mean, he realized with a jolt, that he couldn't take on great responsibilities for himself. It just meant that, when he did, if he did, it would be hard earned. Steeling himself to investigate what could be anywhere from Moody-esque paranoia to a seriously dangerous situation, Ron pressed forward and crossed the street.

He supposed he could have simply knocked on the door - maybe that would have been the sensible, neighbourly sort of inquiry that friendly, unsuspecting neighbourly types were supposed to engage in, but he didn't. Instead, Ron stealthed to the edges of the property, and closed in to one side of the house where windows did not put him in plain view of the houses' occupants. From there, Ron edged towards the back and, when finding that the back windows had been charmed also, kept to the sides where he could remain invisible. Think, Ron thought bitterly, think about this. It's like chess. They're busy guarding the squares they're interested in. They would only charm a window if they were moving through that room. Those are the squares that are being guarded. You need to move around on the squares that are not guarded, and that means finding a window that hasn't been charmed. Ron continued to ghost around the house, checking to see if there were a queen guarding the area from a distance. That would have been a sensible move. On the other side of the house, Ron found that there were basement windows that hadn't been charmed. Ron knelt down and peered through, not surprised that everything looked quite normal for a typical muggle house. Ron pulled back sharply, thinking furiously. Muggle house? If it were a muggle house, then clearly there shouldn't have been such a heavy ward on the windows. Why would muggles need such a thing? Ron felt his heart start to race more quickly, and despite several attempts to calm himself down as he nestled in the crook of a pair of vent shafts, barely aware of the warm breeze that rushed out of them and warmed his now chilled, dew-stained fingers. Ron whispered the unlocking charm and slipped through the basement window. His shoes made a hard clicking sound on the cement floor and he silently castigated himself for his carelessness. He quickly used a silencing charm on his shoes and then crept forward, careful not to run into any of the scattered toys and other objects that littered the floor. In the gloom, he could make out a television that had been taken apart. Ron smiled, thinking of his father and stopped to peer at the object. Amongst the mish-mash of circuits, Ron could make out a label, though he didn't understand the significance: IF YOU CAN READ THIS, THEN YOU ARE BEING EXPOSED TO X-RAY RADIATION.

Ron shook his head and made his way to the steps leading upstairs. He suddenly wished he had a version of the marauder's map and an invisibility cloak. He had crept around at night so many times with those things that they had become necessities in his adventures with Harry. Aware that he, despite having the same level of education as the marauder's still could not even begin to comprehend how they had made such a thing, began to feel suddenly inadequate. What was he doing in the middle of some stranger's home where death eaters could be lurking? He was just a kid, wasn't he? Sure, he had tangled with bad guys at the DOM, but he had been disabled within the first three minutes. Hardly a record to be proud of, especially when he ended up doing more bad than good in the end. Even his baby sister had put up more of a fight than he did. Certainly she hadn't gone around trying to grope an evil brain. As for the battle at Hogwarts, it was hardly him that had been doing all the work. He doubted he would have even survived if it hadn't been for the potion. Where's your resolve he wondered. People could be being tortured up there. Go.

By the time Ron made it halfway up the stairs, he could here voices. As he neared, they sharpened into articulable, comprehendible sounds. There were at least two men, and they were eating and drinking, which Ron could tell by the slur in their voices as they chatted to one another. The way they were cutting into each other's sentences made him think that they were probably alone. He decided to wait a few minutes to try and get a sense of who they were as well as glean any other useful information. As well, he wanted to make sure that there weren't any others in the house. Possibly someone in the bathroom.

From what he could gather, they were making fun of muggle technologies.

"Funny, eh? They got here these here moving pictures in the box, but they can't get a photo up and running. Bloody ridiculous." Whoever they were, Ron thought, they weren't from around here. Their accents made him think they were somewhere from the midlands, given that they didn't quite finish their words in some places.

"And ye gotta look at all these funny shaped holes they got in the walls. Damn ugliest thing I ever seen."

"It's the ekeltricity they use fer everythin'."

"Mmm, yeah, I remember the last li'l cunt saying somethin' about that."

They both broke out into raucous laughter at their last statement. "That was a good one. Little muggle just kept cryin' and cryin'."

"Ah, yeah. Muggles. Always be good for a laugh."

"Secrecy laws," the other man said, sobering quickly. "Best thing Ministry's ever done for us."

They both broke out into laughter again. "Accio beer!" one of them called. A bottle came sailing from the basement, clanking about as it hit the railing on its way up. Ron had to do some fancy footwork that had required him to throw himself against a wall to avoid the glass projectile. he couldn't quite tell, but he hoped that he hadn't made any sounds that reached their ears. If he were lucky, he could just wait and they'd get really drunk.

From the conversation that ensued, Ron figured they weren't the wiser. They drifted from one subject to the next, and Ron was starting to form a picture of who these people were. Clearly they didn't seem to have any morals, judging from the acts they'd committed; acts which made Ron ill just thinking about. Still, he wasn't sure they were death eaters until they started talking about that very subject.

"Eh, Ernie. I been meaning to ask you something."

The other, who Ron now regarded as Ernie, seemed to sober up for real and look closely at his comrade. "Yeah, Bert?"

"I's thinkin' about, well..." he trailed off for a moment, as if gathering his nerve, "well, I been thinking about joining You-Know-Who and his death eaters."

Ernie was clearly taken by surprise, as evidenced by the fact that he spewed beer all over himself at Bert's statement. "Wha-fuck?"

"Well, think about it. Would it really be so bad? I mean, we're both sorta purebloods. We ain't exactly law abidin' and they could, you know, give us power and stuff. We'd be feared. Respected even."

"I dunno, Bert. Heard some terrible things about those types. They don't take failure well, y'know. I ain't never been that good at magic, or taking orders for that matter." Ernie gave out a nervous chuckle. "Tell ya the truth. I never used the unforgiveables. And I ain't never killed a wizard."

"Yeah, but if we apply ourselves. We could go somewhere. We could be somebodies. You-Know-Who ain't stupid. He won't send us to do things we can't handle. Maybe they'd even teach us stuff. Like a trainin' camp. Y'know. For death eaters or apprentices or some such."

This last thought made Ernie quiet, and Ron simply waited with bated breath for the answer. Finally, Ernie spoke. "You know, some times I think you're the dumbest fuckin' sod in the world, Bert. And then you turn out somethin' this bloody brilliant! Do ya know where we sign up?"

Ron grimaced. Good grief, he thought.

"I think it's time we break out the big guns. Have ourselves a the main course. Whatcha think?"

Grinning, Ernie agreed vehemently.

"Oy, sugar!" Bert called. Ron turned around, terrified for a moment that there was someone behind him. When he saw that there was nobody, he wondered if maybe they had found him out. Before long however, he heard the click of a door being opened and saw that one of the bedroom doors had a person occupying the threshold. Ron tensed, wondering if he should fight or flee. But before he could make a decision, he saw that it was a little girl who was coming out, and she was dressed in a pair of flannel pajamas, all the while clutching a ragged little blood-stained teddy bear. There was a glazed look in her eyes and tearstains streaking her face. The sight of her put Ron on edge, and he wondered what it was about her that disturbed him so deeply. As she stood at the top of the stairs, and he wondered whether she would betray his position, it suddenly struck him what was so wrong with her. She didn't even glance his way as she proceeded to the two men. She's under the imperius, Ron thought, appalled. All the scenes that Ron could comprehend that involved her and the two men left him paralyzed with horror.

The sound of one of them cooing softly to her and inviting her closer snapped Ron back to attention. Even if he wanted to go get help, he knew now that there was just no time. There's only two of them, and you have the advantage of surprise, he told himself. Not to mention that they're drunk. Two thoughts of pure genius flitted through his brain at that moment, but he discarded one of them outright. He could have launched the dark mark. Surely that would have caused quite a stir and brought the aurors running. No doubt he would have gotten in big trouble, but it would have been a sure fire way to help the little girl. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that he doubted he could summon it with enough force to send it punching a hole through the ceiling, the second floor, the ceiling above that and into the sky. Instead, Ron focused on his second idea. He could simply summon their wands. It was relatively effective against multiple opponents because it didn't require you to actually hit your target. It just required strong visualization skills. Its only drawback was that it didn't work very well on wands if your opponent was gripping it and ready for dueling. Still, they were both unaware. Ron crept forward, and aimed his wand in their general direction. Cursing himself for not having learned to cast wordlessly, Ron said in a clear voice, "Accio wands!" Ernie, who was sitting in a couch with his back to the stairwell, found his wand sailing into the air and doing a back flip over the couch. To Ron's disappointment, it fell to the ground before reaching him. The other was pulled from Bert's hand but Ernie managed to catch it in midair and whip around, searching for the intruder. Meanwhile, Bert simply stared at his hand uncomprehendingly and blinking as if to check to see if what he was seeing was real. Ernie was already summoning Bert's wand, so Ron chose to attack Bert instead, calling out, "Stupefy!" Bert jerked to life, but not before being hit squarely in the chest with Ron's stunner.

"Oy, who's there!" Ernie called, a slightly nervous edge to his voice. Ron did not respond. He wasn't sure why. He knew he would have to show himself eventually. Ernie was crouched down and using the couch as a shield. Ron supposed that giving away the fact that he was a kid would make Ernie much more confident. Ron racked his brain for something useful to do. Was there any way he could make himself invisible? He wished once again for Harry's invisibility cloak. Resigning himself to his fate, he prepared to cast a shield as he reached the top step. Sure enough, Ernie sent a stunner his way, and Ron merely sent it back at him, following it with another stunner as he predicted where Ernie would move. Ernie, not seeing the second attack until it was too late, only managed to dodge it partly. It struck his wand arm, causing him to drop it as he yelped and fell off the couch. Ron quickly summoned it to him and then strode forward. Ernie had Bert's wand in his other hand and was just enervating his arm when Ron stopped before him and levelled his own. "Stupefy," Ron said, seeming rather bored with the whole affair. Ernie went completely limp, plunging Ron into a complete silence, broken only by the short, muffled sobs of the little girl. Casting his gaze about, Ron saw for the first time what it was that had brought him here. A firepit had been fashioned in the living room and in it was the half-charred remains of a man. Ron's mouth went dry as he looked at the chunks of meat that were sitting on little plates, forks protruding from them. They weren't, Ron thought grimly. They - they couldn't. For good measure, Ron decided to tie them up, just in case. He knew his stunners could last a good hour or so, but he didn't know what kind of defenses people could put up. Again, he was thrown back to that place where he felt inferior. There was so much about magic he didn't know. Could you immunize yourself from the stunning curse? Ron wondered if the stunning curse could be used to stun You-Know-Who. Somehow, he highly doubted it. Well, the stunner was good enough for the death eaters, he thought, so you'll just have to assume that it's good enough for these guys.

"Incarcerus," Ron said, and watched as ropes flew from his wand. to his dismay, they didn't coil around Ernie as Ron had hoped. Granted he had never used the spell before. Grimacing, he at least managed to vanish them and then, just for good measure, hit each of his opponents with another dose of his stunner. finally, he decided to deal with the girl. Truthfully, he wished he didn't have to.

"Hey," he said, trying to inflect his voice so that it was as soft and as disarming as humanly possible. Ron knelt next to her and said quietly. 'It's all going to be all right."

At first, she seemed afraid of him and only tried to curl further into a little ball. Ron kept offering soothing words and telling her that he was there to help. After several minutes, she seemed to calm down, and Ron asked, "Is there anyone else around?"

She merely sniffled.

Deciding he wouldn't get very pertinent information out of her, Ron decided to employ the age old male strategy of switching the subject. To his surprise, it was the first time it ever worked on a girl. "Could you maybe tell me your name?"

The little girl looked up, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She sniffled once more for good measure and then said in a whisper, "Mmphfgh."

"Er, I didn't quite catch that," Ron said uncertainly. "Could you say that again?"

This time, the girl seemed to look directly at him, or perhaps through him. She then said in a clearer but still run-down tone, "Cassie."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Cassie." he smiled his kindest smile. The one he reserved for thanking Hermione after she agreed to let him copy her homework. "I'm Ron."

"Hi," she said timidly.

"Listen, Cassie, as you've no doubt gathered, some terrible stuff has happened here. Do you know what I'm talking about?" Ron fixed her with his most earnest, penetrating gaze. He wasn't sure what he was doing, but he needed to get through to her on some level. he needed her to do some things, like maybe come back to the Burrow with him so that he could put her in touch with people more able to help her.

"Bad men," she said in a whispery voice. "Bad men." Those two words seemed to stir something in Ron's heart. Yes, bad men, he thought, swallowing the lump that was forming in his throat. Very bad men indeed.

"That's right, Cassie. I've stopped them, so you don't have to worry anymore about them."

She nodded, understanding this. "You stopped them."

"Yes, I stopped them," Ron agreed. "I need to go look around to see if anyone else is here. I'm going to do that, and then I'm going to come right back."

She nodded.

"I need you to watch these two. If they move, I need you to tell me. I need you to scream out. Is that okay?"

She nodded.

Ron nodded too. "Okay, I'll be back in a second." He stood, feeling suddenly uneasy about leaving her shivering there for a second. He doubted she would do anything remotely close to screaming if one of them woke up. Fortunately, Ron only had to go down the hall and check a few rooms before he would return and they could get out of here. Despite the large open windows with the soft rays of sunlight streaming in and turning the white walls and polished surfaces iridescent, Ron still couldn't help but feel creeped out by the place. Just knowing what had happened here made the place thick with a dark taint.

The rooms were all surprisingly neat. Even Cassie's. To his sorrow, any remaining family members were dead. That included a mother and an older brother. Worse yet, it was clear that the mother had been assaulted, if the state of her clothes were any indication. Cannibal pedophiles, Ron thought. Of all the bloody things to find in your neighbourhood. And death eater wannabes to boot. Ron returned and gently tried to take Cassie's hand. However, she visibly flinched at the attempt, forcing Ron to take a step back. "Whoa," he said, adopting his 'I'm a nice guy' voice. "Cassie, it's just me. Ron."

She didn't seem to respond, as though she had forgotten about him.

Taking a deep breath, Ron started over. "Hey, Cassie?" he asked softly, kneeling near to her, but not so close that she would get frightened. "Do you remember me?"

"Ron," she said promptly.

"Yeah. Listen, I think it's maybe time we get out of here. I was thinking we could take a walk and go to my family. My mom's probably got dinner on the stove. Would you like to come over and maybe get something to eat?"

"Where's mommy?" the unmistakable, pleading tone in her voice told Ron all he needed to know. She knows her mother's dead. She's in denial.

"I'm sorry, Cass," he said softly, lowering his eyes and fixing them on a point on the floor. "I'm sorry."

Cassie burst out into tears again and said in a wail, "I want her! Where is she?" Cassie then threw her teddy bear across the living room so that it silently struck the wall and fell to the ground. She then buried her head in her lap and began sobbing deep, heavy sobs that racked her entire body.

Ron maneuvered himself so that he was next to her and tried to put a comforting arm over her shoulder. She relented and gave in, leaning into his shoulder and letting her tears soak his shirt. A year ago, he would have ran away in terror and simply laughed it off as a girl thing, probably nicknaming the tearful individual a "hosepipe." Now though, in the throes of his own melancholy, he felt a strange sort of kinship. He knew he would never cry - he understood that it wasn't in him anymore. But he also knew that he could feel just as strongly as those who did, and he was not one to shrug off someone else's pain as callously as he otherwise would have.

After a long time, after the sun had set and the sky had turned to a deep blue, Ron stirred and discovered that Cassie had fallen asleep. He supposed that maybe it was for the best. Sleep, he knew, had a way of clearing one's head, as though when you were asleep, your mind was given a chance to process things. Especially difficult things that needed your full attention. He knew from others that this kind of trauma would stay with Cassie for a long time; he couldn't even begin to imagine how his life would change if he didn't have his family. But you're going to have to face that possibility, his mind told him. One day. All the wards in the world won't save you if Voldemort comes personally.

Ron gently detached himself from the little girl and stood, flexing his legs and arms. He stunned both his captives and then cast the body floatation charm he learned last year. "Mobilicorpus," he said three times, lifting Ernie, Bert and Cassie into the air. Double checking to make sure he had all their wands, he proceeded out the front door and down the street. he had no idea what any of the muggles would think, and he didn't care. He didn't know anything about capturing people and he wasn't prepared to let these clowns escape. Not after what he had seen. There was just no way. He finally understood the nature of the guilt Harry had carried around with him after fourth year. It was the same guilt he felt welling up in him at the thought of Bert and Ernie escaping on his watch.

The Burrow seemed incredibly calm and peaceful from outside. All was silent, with the only exception being the crickets and the rustling wind. Lights were flickering to life inside, casting an ethereal yellow glow that made everything in there seem warm and inviting. Ron made a complicated gesture with his wand and watched as the wards shimmered. He then crossed the threshold with his followers in tow and resolutely went through the front door. The immediate explosion of activity that he had expected did not in fact occur. There was a regular sort of silence with the usual bustling about in the kitchen. They were all eating, he supposed.

"Ron!" his mother was calling. "RON!"

He knew that she must have been calling for some time, judging from the sound of her voice. She had adopted that exasperated quality that he had become accustomed to. "Right, here, mom! Be there in a minute!"

Ron knew for a fact that bringing her mother into this would be a bona fide nightmare. Instead, Ron decided it might be best to get Bill out here. With that in mind, he began calling for his big brother. "Oy, Bill! I need you to come out to the front hall for a second! It's important!"

"And dad too!"

Now Ron simply took to waiting. As he did so, he noticed that Cassie was stirring. He gently lowered her to the ground and held onto her in his arms. She blinked bleary eyed and looked up at Ron. "I-" she began, before looking around. Ron understood that she hat, for the briefest moment, thought it all a terrible dream, and she was only now realizing that it wasn't. She began to shake all over and clutch him like he were a life preserver. So, it was like that when Bill and Arthur walked into the front hall, Ron kneeling holding a terrified, pale-faced little girl with matted brown hair and two stunned floating bodies hovering overhead.

They were about to speak when Ron finally looked up at them, still holding the girl close. he looked into their eyes and wordlessly begged them to understand what was going on. Something seemed to have been communicated, because neither said a word, and simply took their time, absorbing and calculating the situation. Eventually, Bill disappeared and returned with Fleur, who must have been told something, because she came and wordlessly took Ron's place. the girl didn't seem to notice until fleur began speaking softly to the girl and picking her up to transport her to a bed upstairs. Once gone, Ron stood and stared grim faced at his father and his eldest brother. Finally, he said, "Up the street. the corner house with the red roof. Number 653. You'll find her family. It isn't pretty." Ron cocked a thumb at the two floating men. "Stunned. Drunk."

"How bad is it?" Bill asked.

"From what I can tell. They're cannibals, and they're rapists."

Both Arthur's and Bill's expressions darkened. "Wizards?"

Ron nodded.

"If memory serves, the residents of 653 are muggles."

"Right again," Ron agreed.

Just then, Molly came out into the hallway. Unsurprisingly, her arms were laden with dishes, which, upon sight of the two figures floating near the front door, and Ron appearing to be facing off with Arthur and Bill, proceeded to be flung into the air with surprising force, sending food bits splattering across the walls and floors. The dishes crashed about haphazardly on the thinly carpeted floors, some of them cracking from the impact. Her mouth seemed to be in overdrive, even though there wasn't any sounds coming from them. Arthur steered her back into the kitchen while Bill deftly erased any traces of the dishes and their contents. He then turned back to Ron and said, "Care to share?" one eyebrow raised.

Ron shrugged. "What's there to tell? Saw something fishy. Went to investigate and-" Ron spread his hands out to point to the two prone figures. "That's the result."

"I think maybe it's best if you head up to your room for the moment. We're going to need to do some damage control down here. Between mom, dad and the Ministry, it could get ugly."

"Are you going to need me to say something?"

Bill thought about it for a second. "We have the girl, but she's probably in no state to talk. Yeah, it's best to be safe and prepare yourself for a little interrogation. I'm sure dad'll try to get one of the in-crowd to do the meat of it."

"Of course," Ron agreed. "I'll maybe just try conjuring up some food and await the inquisition."

"That'd be best."

Ron wasn't sure why he brought up the conjuring; especially when he was rubbish at it, but now that he said it, he felt a resolve to conjure the food himself and eat it, whether he liked it or not. Brushing past Bill on his way up, Ron headed straight for his room, never once turning back.