Hello!
It has been an absurdly long time and I am so sorry. Life has been busy and motivation to write has just not been a thing, but I promise I did not forget about this story! As of now, I am planning to have one more chapter after this one and I WILL finish it, I promise! Thank you so much for putting up with me and for your reviews and encouragement. You all really are wonderful!
Long-distance tracking had never been something Ron particularly enjoyed, as it required Apparating to an unknown location indicated by the tracking spell and was often accompanied by motion sickness or even Splinching. Thankfully, he managed to avoid the latter as he landed hard on packed dirt and very nearly pitched forward. The adrenaline currently coursing through him and exciting every nerve in his body made the characteristic wooziness tolerable. He took a moment to get his bearings.
The wood was dense and foreboding in the predawn dimness. He'd landed in a narrow space between two trees, the canopies of which prevented the worst of the falling rain from reaching him. Even so, at the risk of sentencing himself to hours in the forest in wet clothes, he cast a quick Impervius spell over himself. Whatever shape Harry was in was surely bad enough. He needed Ron at his best.
The foliage seemed to go on forever and as far as Ron could tell, it seemed equally thick in all directions. It was certainly a good place to hide from Death Eaters—and quite possibly everyone else as well. He scanned the area carefully, eyes peeled for any sign that Harry might have come this way. The tracking spell tended to be accurate up to about half a kilometer, meaning if Ron's spellwork was to be trusted, Harry should not have been far.
Of course, nothing was ever that easy.
He saw no obvious signs of his best friend in any direction and with the rainwater that dripped regularly down from the leaves above him, any physical evidence that might be of use in tracking him had likely already been washed away. Ron spun in another slow circle, searching for anything that might point him in the right direction, only to stop again before he could get himself too hopelessly turned around. He wondered if he dared call out for Harry at the risk of alerting anyone else nearby of his presence here. He decided, for the moment anyway, that chance was not one he was willing to take, considering he couldn't be sure Harry was close enough to hear over the sound of the rain or even conscious enough to hear anything at all—he didn't let himself consider that last part for long.
After several more moments of fruitless scanning and consideration, Ron marked one of the trees he'd first landed beside upon arriving and set a path in a random direction from it, keeping his eyes peeled on the surrounding area as he went. He kept as straight as possible, cursing the overcast sky visible in occasional short bursts between patchier areas of vegetation, for obstructing any view he might otherwise have had of the sun—having risen by now—to mark his direction. When he'd travelled an acceptable distance past the half-kilometer mark with no signs of Harry, he turned around and trekked back, following his trail in the moist ground and returning to his starting point to set out once more, forging another trail a few degrees over from the first.
It was a common technique employed by the Aurors during search and rescue missions, this fanning out approach which covered the most ground in the least amount of time and which had proved successful in numerous instances during Ron's years with them. Unfortunately, it was a tactic normally used with a fairly large number of people at their disposal, all of whom typically fanned out from the single point at once and, as such, were able to cover the distance in far less time than it would take Ron to working alone. However, he was here on his own, having followed Harry's plea to come alone and having told no one where he was going. And at this point, Ron preferred it that way, even if it would take significantly longer to locate Harry—time that potentially stood to cost his friend dearly, a fact Ron chose to ignore for the time being. He honestly wasn't sure if he could trust Goodwin and his team, though he had no concrete reason as to why. Something about the way the events of the past few days had played out did not sit well with him and he was through playing games when Harry's life hung in the balance.
Many minutes passed as Ron continued the slow task of branching out little by little around that central spot, hiking back and forth in the miserable weather, searching for the tiniest sign of life. It was tedious work, and with the ever-falling rain and the frigid temperatures, even with impermeability and warming charms, it was not long before he was utterly freezing. However Ron refused to let his guard down. He'd checked the tracking spell more than once—Harry was close. It was simply a matter of finding the prat.
His patience began to wane just past the three-quarter point around the tree. He estimated he'd been at it now for over three hours and aside from an empty stomach and mud-coated boots, he had absolutely nothing to show for his efforts. It was sheer force of will and Weasley stubbornness keeping him going at this point, that and the thought of the expressions on his sister's and fiancee's faces if he didn't bring Harry home. He simply refused to think of how such a possibility might impact his own life—he couldn't if he hoped to keep his sanity, not yet. He approached the half-kilometer mark of his fourteenth—or maybe fifteenth by now, he'd lost count—path from the tree and was preparing to turn around and head back to it once again when a slight rustling sounded to his left. Ron froze and turned toward the sound.
He saw nothing at first, but remained where he was, watching and listening, scarcely daring to breathe. Kicking himself for being so jumpy and getting his hopes up, he was about to turn back to his path once more when it happened again—and there! The faintest shimmering next to the base of a large tree trunk, the same type of shimmering that could be seen when looking directly at a Disillusioned wizard. Ron wondered if he dared hope…
His heart beating wildly in his chest, he took a step off the path he'd set. The thought crossed his mind—the voice of reason in him, which had adopted Hermione's voice over the years—that even if the shimmer he saw did come from a wizard under a Disillusionment charm, it didn't necessarily mean it was the wizard he was looking for. However, he'd tracked Harry to this area and he'd seen no signs of anyone else nearby in all the time he'd been here, not to mention the fact that if it was a dark wizard he was approaching, he likely would have already been jinxed. Or worse.
Regardless, there was no going back now. Bracing himself for the worst, Ron lifted his wand and pointed it at the spot he'd seen. "Finite." And just like that, the Disillusionment charm vanished and Ron's heart stopped only to start again. There was Harry, after everything that had happened the past few days, right there in front of him, sprawled against the base of a tree in the middle of nowhere. "Merlin's b—Harry!" Ron cried, paying just enough mind not to shout loudly enough to potentially alert anyone else of his discovery. He rushed forward, his heart in his throat, and landed hard on his knees in front of his prone friend. He barely recognized him. Harry had clearly taken quite a beating. His face was swollen and discolored, his temple cut open. In his lap, his knuckles were bruised and his fingers bloody. His wrists were braceleted with rope burns, and judging from the various large tears in his tattered Auror's robes and the dried blood down his front, Ron was willing to bet plenty more injuries hid out of sight.
"Harry!" said firmly, "Harry, open your eyes, look at me! Merlin, please don't be dead!" He grabbed Harry's arms and shook him—only to stop abruptly when his friend jerked away with a hiss of pain. The relief the action brought with it nearly reduced Ron to tears right there. He exhaled loudly and relaxed slightly. Harry lifted his head and stared at him for several seconds, squinting with black eyes to see without his glasses. It looked painful.
"Ron?" He asked, his voice hoarse.
"It's me, mate," Ron told him, "I'm here."
Harry released a breath and let his head fall back against the tree trunk. His own relief was evident. "Took you long enough," he ground out.
Ron gave a laugh of surprise. "Sorry. Traffic, you know."
Harry opened green, unamused eyes and squinted at him, which largely ruined the effect. Ron refrained from grinning, giddy with relief. "You look like hell," Harry informed him.
"Yeah? Well you're the most beautiful bloody thing I've seen in a while, you git."
"You didn't tell anyone you were coming here, did you?" he asked, ignoring Ron's comment. "Someone in the Auror Department's been feeding Knox information."
Ron blinked, getting to his feet. "Well, that explains a lot. But no, it's just me."
"Good."
"Can you stand?"
"I think so."
"Alright, come on then." Ron moved to help Harry up. The latter cooperated and didn't complain, though he looked in utter agony with the slightest movement. He kept one arm wrapped tightly around his ribs, his breaths coming in short gasps through clenched teeth. Once vertical, he swayed alarmingly and gripped tightly to Ron. After several seconds though, he seemed to find a bit of equilibrium and released his grip. "All right?" Ron asked him.
"I'll be fine." A typical Harry Potter answer if he had ever heard one. "Just get me out of here."
Ginny left for practice Monday morning feeling surprisingly good. She knew Hermione had been fussing in inviting her over after dinner the night before and occupying her with board games and ice cream until it was well past a reasonable time for them to be in bed. Yet despite the lengths Ginny tended to go to in order to prevent her family members from fussing over her, she was happy she'd agreed to her soon-to-be sister-in-law's proposal. She was sleep-deprived this morning, sure, but her heart felt slightly less shattered.
It wasn't that her desire to have Harry back home with her hurt any less today than it had any other time over the past week, she was just getting extremely good at distracting herself from it all. It wasn't a permanent solution, but then, she hoped desperately that she wouldn't need one. She was still holding out hope for a miracle, and she wasn't ready to give that up just yet.
Ginny mentally scolded herself as she Flooed over to the Harpies' stadium for Quidditch practice. Now was not the time. They had a match tomorrow and her teammates needed her at her best. And she would make sure she gave it to them.
Practice was always more subdued the day before a match, as Gwenog did not want the team worn out so close to playing. Ginny missed the regular level of intensity and the good workout—and good mood—that came with it, but she gave it her all anyway, struggling to achieve that zone of single-minded focus that only Quidditch seemed able to bring her. It ended far too soon for her liking and Ginny headed for the locker rooms, attempting to figure out how to pass the rest of the day. She needed go grocery shopping and make sure her Quidditch robes were cleaned and pressed before the match tomorrow. She wondered vaguely if there was anything else she could get done that would keep her away from the house for a bit. After having Teddy for the weekend and spending the night before at Hermione's, she was not looking forward to returning home alone. The Burrow was always an option—her mother loved any excuse to have her children over, but after the events of the night before and the constant hovering Molly had done the entire week, that idea seemed less than appealing.
Ginny exchanged small talk with her teammates as she readied for a shower. The majority of the conversation centered around the coming match against Kenmare—what to expect, best defense tactics against their impressive offensive members, and whether or not their handsome Keeper was, in fact, seeing someone. She didn't much care about that last part one way or another, but for the majority of the team, most of whom were young and single, this was pressing information indeed. Smiling to herself, Ginny turned toward the showers, shampoo in hand, and shook her head a bit at her fellow Harpies. Even with her Hogwarts years behind her, locker room gossip never changed.
When she was clean and dressed, Ginny braided back her damp hair and gathered her things to go, resigning herself to a long day consisting of chores and attempting not to wallow too much on her own. She slung her duffel bag over her shoulder and was turning to leave when Maggie, one of the team's Beaters and her friend, called after her. Ginny turned and found the witch hurrying toward her. "Glad I caught you," Maggie said, grinning. She was a large girl, built perfectly for her position as Beater, and pretty in an imposing sort of way. She stood several inches taller than Ginny and was a few years older, with dark straight hair and blue eyes. She'd always been friendly with her.
"What's up?" Ginny asked her as the two fell into step together and headed for the exit.
"A few of us decided to get lunch together in Diagon Alley," Maggie explained. "I wanted to invite you."
"Oh. Thanks, that sounds fun."
"So you'll come?" the older witch asked, eyeing her.
"Of course," Ginny answered her, "Were you worried I wouldn't?"
"Well, I'd hoped you would but honestly I wasn't sure. You've just seemed a bit off lately. Quieter than normal. I was worried something was wrong."
"Oh," Ginny replied somewhat awkwardly. Those first few days of practice had been rough after finding out about Harry but she'd really thought she'd been doing better since. Maybe she wasn't as good an actress as she thought. "I've just been dealing with some stuff," she told Maggie. "I'll be all right."
"I'm sorry. If there's anything I can do…"
"Yeah, it's, er, a family thing."
Maggie nodded her understanding. "Well still, if you need anything, I'm here."
Ginny smiled at her. "Thanks."
They were out of the locker room now and heading for the stadium's Floo. Maggie looked about to say something more when Gwenog's voice sounded from somewhere to the right of them. "Potter." Ginny turned toward her name. Gwenog stood a short distance away, talking with Lydia, the Harpies' reserve Seeker. She gestured for Ginny to join her. Ginny nodded and stopped walking. She looked back to Maggie, who said simply, "We're meeting at the Leaky Cauldron at one. See you then?"
"I'll be there," she promised before turning toward where Gwenog waited. By the time she reached her, the Harpies coach had dismissed Lydia and the wiry blonde witch had walked away, leaving them alone. "What's going on?" Ginny asked, stopping before her. Gwenog simply studied her for a moment, saying nothing. Ginny waited, ignoring the slight discomfort that came with the scrutiny.
Finally her coach sighed. "I heard some concerning news from a friend at the Ministry this morning." Ginny said nothing. "Harry's missing?" Gwenog added, watching her with an unreadable expression.
Ginny took a breath. "Yes."
The older witch continued to study her. "I'm sorry."
She nodded. "Thank you."
Gwenog sighed again. "Well, that explains a few things, at least. You had me worried for a few days there, Potter. I didn't want to have to bump Emilia up from the reserves."
Ginny held her coach's stare, ignoring the quickening of her heart in her chest. "Should I be concerned?" she asked evenly.
"Don't worry, I'm not planning to replace you yet," Gwenog answered simply, "Your performance suffered heavily early last week, which I assume is when you first found out, but I called you out and you fixed the problem. You've been playing fine since."
Unsure of what to make of the conversation, Ginny found herself saying, "Thank you?"
"It was obvious something was going on with you," Gwenog continued, "I assumed it was something slightly less life-altering, but I want you to know I'm impressed with your ability to play like you have under the circumstances."
"Thank you," Ginny repeated with more confidence.
"That being said," her coach continued after a pause, "I need you to be honest with me here. I'm not planning to replace you as starting Chaser as long as you continue playing well, but I need to know where your head is—Just listen," she added quickly, holding up a hand when Ginny opened her mouth to protest. "The match against Kenmare tomorrow is a big one and if you're unable to give it your all, I need you to tell me now. I can have Emilia stand in for you until the situation with Harry gets sorted out and as soon as it does, you can go back to playing as you always have. It's up to you, but I'm trusting you to make the decision that's best for the team."
Ginny took a few seconds to gather her thoughts before meeting Gwenog's gaze. "Honestly," she said, "right now, I don't know where my head is. I haven't for most of the past week and I doubt that will change before tomorrow. But one of the only places I've been able to really focus on anything but the fact that Harry's missing is on the Quidditch pitch. Even when I was playing poorly last week, it wasn't because I wasn't focused or trying. I've been getting better at coping and this team is one of the reasons for that. Honestly, one of the only times I feel completely okay is when I am out there flying." She took a breath, pausing. "Being on this team means the world to me and you have to know I would never do anything to compromise that. So, if you'll let me, I'd like to play tomorrow. If I give anything less than my absolute best, you can bench me and put Emilia in, but I'd like the opportunity to prove that I've earned my starting position. Now more than ever."
Gwenog nodded slowly, her eyes not leaving Ginny. "Are you eating?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Sleeping?"
"More than I was."
"Alright."
"So can I play tomorrow?"
She nodded. "I'll make sure Emilia is prepared just in case, but I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt. You're a valuable asset to this team, Potter. Don't ever forget that."
"I won't."
"And I am sorry about what you're going through. I can't imagine." Ginny nodded and looked away, not trusting herself to speak further. "Alright," Gwenog said, "Get out of here. I'll see you tomorrow."
As it turned out, Side-Along Apparating a severely injured wizard out of a place he did not know the location of was not the easiest task Ron had ever faced. He'd tracked Harry blindly to this spot in the woods and neither had any clue as to their current position. Harry, leaning heavily against him and bearing little of his own weight, was in no condition for long-distance Apparition—he was in no shape for Apparition of any sort if Ron was being honest, but they had no other option. He had no way of knowing what country they were currently in, much less how far it was to the nearest wizarding—or even Muggle at this point—hospital, and therefore any destination he chose might very well be too far. The last thing Harry needed right now was to be Splinched on top of all his other injuries, but standing up did not appear to be good for his health in his current state and Ron feared if he did not decide on a plan of action soon, he'd have to Apparate with best friend unconscious.
Deciding there was nothing for it and because there was only one potentially helpful spot Ron could properly picture within what was hopefully a reasonable distance from where they currently stood, he concentrated hard on the Belarusian Ministry of Magic, hoping against all hope that they were, in fact, in or near Belarus and that he'd been observant enough the last and only time he'd set foot in the place to get them both there now.
His heart in his throat and his stomach in knots, Ron closed his eyes, tightened his grip on Harry, and turned on the spot.
Thank you so much for reading! I will try to update as soon as possible!