Eladrin settled his younger cousin on the large bed that had been arranged for him, one hand brushing back his shockingly bright red hair from his face. Though he appeared as the perfect blending of Molly and Arthur Weasley at the moment, Eladrin knew that his Ashari traits would soon make themselves known; time in their lands, surrounded by their magics, would see to that.

Magic permeated the air here; many wizards found themselves unable to physically cope with that fact. It was in their blood, in their food, in the very air that they breathed. Where magic existed as something to be called upon by wizards, it was everywhere within the Ashari realm . . . it could not be escaped, and at times could not always be controlled. Over the centuries since they had left humanity behind, that magic had changed their people until the absence of magic could be downright physically harmful to them - unless they adapted to it at a very young age.

Ron - as his human mother had called him - would have to adapt to his new home now. It wouldn't be painful, but it would be trying. Eladrin found the very idea of having to adapt to magic strange, but he knew what his Elders had told him.

Taking a step back from the bed, Eladrin studied his cousin. The bed upon which he had been lain was both wide and long, the coverlet a deep green. One long pillow was pushed up at one end of the bed, Ron's red hair clashed wildly with the deep forest green. There was no posts, no hangings to hide behind - Eladrin had heard that the wizards favored such things, but the Ashari most decidedly did not. Theirs was an open society, with few barriers against the outside world. The room in which Ron had been placed sported long ceiling to floor windows, bare of any curtains that could have afforded even a small amount of privacy. What would Ron think of this, when he woke? Ron, who had grown up in a world of privacy and personal possessions, now thrust into a world where everything he did, everything he said, could and would be shared among the people.

The nuances of his words, his actions, his facial expressions would all be noticed. Was it like that in the world of humans? Eladrin had been in contact with only Molly Weasley during his small time there, but her home had already been so cluttered, so full of secrets. What was the draw of all those material possessions, he had to wonder? He had few items that he would claim as his own - his hunting bow, a few ivory figurines his betrothed had carved for him. He had his room, the same as when he was a child, in the family courtyard. But even that space was open to outsiders.

This room had a door - a large, heavy wooden thing that could be locked. But only from the outside - there were doors, few locks within their realm. They were a society that was open, and to close off others from your home ... it was unheard of. But Ron would be confused; he had been raised in a culture of violence, and they could take no chances.

There had been others like him, down through history. He certainly wasn't the first child that had come of a union between Man and Ashari. They always came home, in the end . . . it was only a matter of time. Some came sooner than others, but never before their 13th birthday. 13 was an important number among their people, and it had it's significance among the humans as well, or so Eladrin had been told.

What would Ron think when he awoke? Eladrin had been warned not to allow his young cousin the time to get his bearings, to say goodbye or to fight against him. Bring him, and bring him quickly. That had been his mission, and he had completed it to the best of his ability. Now that his young cousin had been brought here safely, however, Eladrin could not help but worry how he would react.

Eladrin was Ron's Keeper. All half-breeds had one when they first arrived home; one to help them understand their situation, to acclimate them to life here among their people. It was a frightening time for the children who had been sent away before they could retain any memories of their lives here. Everything would be new to him - his home, his family, even the adolescents close to his own age that he would have grown up with had he been allowed to stay. But before any of that could come, before he could even be introduced to the myriad of aunts, uncles, cousins and even nieces and nephews that made up his family, he had to accept his new life.

And if Molly Weasley was any indication, Eladrin had a feeling that Ron Weasley would not be initially accepting of anything.

...

Three days had passed since Ron had disappeared from the back yard during a game of Quidditch with his sister and older brothers, and still neither of his parents were willing to talk about his disappearance.

Molly Weasley had not fixed dinner in three days. She had not cleaned the house, had not even exited the bedroom she shared with her husband. Her children had not seen her since she had collapsed on the ground in the kitchen, crying out her youngest son's name.

Arthur Weasley had not arrived at work the next morning. Indeed, he had taken an indefinite leave of absence, disappearing from both his home and his place of work without more than a cursory explanation of "a family tragedy" for his employer.

The Weasley children had been left to fend for themselves. With Percy gone, this had meant that Fred, George and Ginny Weasley had been left to their own devices for the past three days. There were no large dinners, only quick sandwiches hastily made before they retreated to their separate corners of the house. There had been no explosions from experiments for Fred and George, no loud exclamations or pranks pulled on their sister. The house was eerily silent for the Weasley abode.

When Albus Dumbledore first arrived on the morning of the fourth day, it took him a moment to discover just what seemed out of place - and it was that silence. It took no more work than a simple spell to inform him that the four individuals in the house were perfectly safe, and a quick glance at the clock on the mantle to confirm that every member of the Weasley family was either safe, sleeping, or working - every member, that is, except for Ron Weasley, who was currently set at unknown.

Making his way through the house, Albus knocked gently on the bedroom door that his spell had informed him housed Molly Weasley. When he received no response he frowned and tried again. To his dismay, he discovered that not only was Molly Weasley ignoring him, but that the room had been locked, warded, and if his senses were not deceiving him, silenced.

He could have forced himself inside, could have broken down the protections Molly had placed upon the room. But it would have taken time - Molly had always been an expert at warding, and at one point in her life had considered a career as a professional warder. The years had toned her knowledge down a bit, but not enough that it would be an easy task to get through her own personal wards - especially on a house that was keyed to her own magical signature.

Stepping away from the door, Albus turned to find the small form of Ginny Weasley regarding him with a sad look on her petite features. "Are you here about Ron, Professor?"

Albus paused, considering the small girl. He had not, in fact, come because of Ronald Weasley - in fact, he had arrived because both Arthur and Molly Weasley had failed to show up for a scheduled meeting concerning the threat Voldemort once again posed to the Wizarding Community - whether Minister Fudge was willing to admit it or not.

"Why don't we sit a spell?" Albus offered instead of answering, leading the obviously confused - and perhaps even frightened - young woman with a soft touch on her elbow in the direction of the kitchen.

Though Ginny and her brothers had been careful not to leave a mess behind, it was still obvious that Molly had not touched the kitchen in some time - and that worried Albus even more.

"Now, why don't you tell me what happened?"