It felt odd to him, looking at Rose and Bertie standing side by side, knowing that both his lives – the past and the present – most unpredictably entwined. Crossed. And now he had to sort it out somehow.
Yet now, his chief focus was Sarah – the young woman was unconscious, moaning from time to time and trying to open her eyes.
"Who are you?" Rose looked at Bertie while the younger girl rubbed her eyes sleepily, trying to make sense of what was happening.
"I am Bertie…" she appeared to finally come awake, and her mouth fell open: "Uncle Ron? Mummy?"
Dumb show, Ron thought with a momentary smirk, but now was not the time for amusement. Theodic must have thought the same, for he silently opened the front door and motioned everyone inside.
"Follow me," the healer threw open the doors to the well-lit examination room, and Ron, without a backward glance at Rose or Bertie carried Sarah through to the small room with the cot, as Theodic was already pulling items out of the cabinets. He lay Sarah on the bed, carefully sweeping back a lock of hair that fell on her pale, thin face, and straightened up.
"Go now, I'll call for you," the healer said curtly, walking over to his patient.
Ron did not want to leave Sarah alone, especially with this strange man. Yes, Rose had written loads about him, and only good things, she loved him very much. Besides, Ron knew well that Theo was partially responsible for rescuing him from the Ministry snare. Yet, looking at the healer, he saw Severus Snape, whom, despite all they learned at the end of the war with Voldemort, he still did not like much.
Still, he left the room, closing the door behind him. He trusted Rose, and so he had to trust Theodic; especially since he did not really have a choice. And, to top it all, there was Bertie who somehow appeared on their doorstep.
Rose and Bertie were in the parlor: his daughter had gotten Bertie some tea and cookies. Wrapped in a tartan, Bertie sat, tired and silent in the chair, as though waiting. As soon as Ron walked in, the girl jumped to her feet and rushed him, the tartan trailing after her.
"What's with Mum? How is she?"
Ron caught the odd look Rose was giving him, but quickly knelt before Bertie, knowing that she needed him more at this moment.
"She will get well," he said firmly, believing it. "And now tell me what are you doing here? How did you get away from Hogwarts?"
"It is Albus," Bertie mumbled, looking both guilty and frightened.
"Albus?" Rose also stood up, looking from her father to Bertie. "Albus Potter?"
"Yes," the girl nodded and quickly filled them in on her escape from the school up to the moment when Albus went to see his brother, leaving her to wait for Theo. "I waited and waited, and then I fell asleep…"
Ron glanced at the worried Rose.
"James and Xenia live fifteen minutes away," she explained to Ron, gripping her wand. "Where could he have disappeared to? Could he have stayed at James' for the night?"
"No, he could not," Bertie said confidently, almost stomping her foot. "Albus would not have forgotten. He promised."
"Yes," Rose nodded, and Ron clearly imagined his nephew now: a miniature version of Harry Potter, also eager and willing to help and to save anyone who needed it, and getting into the most improbable situations as the result. "I must go there; what if something happened?"
Ron got to his feet, his hand still on Bertie's shoulder, watching Rose walk toward the fireplace:
"Wait, I'll go with you," he said, not knowing why. A couple of seconds later, however, he realized that what he was feeling was apprehension. And danger. He knew this instinct: indeed, that animal sense that had once saved him from an avalanche in the mountains. "Don't go alone."
"Daddy, you must stay here," Rose answered gently, nodding at the scared and a bit surprised Bertie. "They need you…"
"Daddy?" the younger girl turned toward Ron, and he belatedly understood the cause for her amazement. "Uncle Ron, is she your daughter?"
He could do nothing but nod.
"You never said that you had a daughter," Bertie said reproachfully, stepping back and folding her arms. "Then why are you with us and not with them?"
Ron was afraid to look Rose in the eye, although he felt her eyes on him. Yes, Bertie knew nothing of his past; Ron had never spoke in front of her of his family. He didn't speak about them much with Sarah, either.
"Bertie…" he looked at the girl, whose gaze now shifted at Rose, standing by the fireplace:
"You are Uncle Ron's daughter? And where is your mum?"
"She is away," Rose's voice sounded muted.
"Why then are you with us, and not with them?"
Ron dared a glance at his daughter, who looked away. No one answered Bertie's question.
"Because he is a werewolf?"
Ron flinched.
"Bertie, this is a long story…"
"Grown-ups always say that when they are ashamed to explain," the girl said. "And there I was, thinking that you had no one, Uncle Ron…"
He looked at Rose again, and this time his daughter did not look away, but the feelings that had been in her face before were gone; the feelings with which she entered their snow-covered cottage in the mountains; that showed in her tear-filled eyes. Now, she looked more like Hermione did back at Hogwarts, in their sixth year, if memory served, when he was dumb enough to date Lavender. It was so long ago, but to this day he remembered the look in Hermione's eyes. And Rose greatly favoured her mother right now. It was as though she just fully realized and believed that Ron had another family.
"I have to go; I have to find Al," Rose broke the silence, and Ron started, hanging his head. He had imagined their reunion differently. Yet, what did he want? After all, he had not intended to see them again at all, precisely because he knew in his heart that he had earned the look on Rose's face by his four years of silence. That was the point…
"I am with you," he was still feeling apprehensive at the thought of Rose searching for Al. No matter where – he just knew that it was dangerous.
"Uncle Ron!" Bertie clutched at his hand. "You can't. You can't leave Mum…"
"Bertie, I can't help her any more right now," Ron said gently.
"Stay with them," Rose said, getting a handful of Floo powder out of the jar. She was herself again, as though it wasn't her moments before giving him that oddly-cold, "I don't know you" look. "You need them…"
"No," Ron said firmly, setting aside the angry Bertie. "I am coming with you. Bertie, go sit with your mother. I shall be back soon."
"You can't…" she repeated, begging now. Ron smiled contritely, trying to set aside the thoughts of what was happening here, yet the thought was swirling in his mind: he would be torn in half between his two lives, the past and the present. Between his two families… That was why he should never have returned.
"Wait for me here, and we'll decide on how to get you back to Hogwarts," Ron walked to the fireplace and also picked up the Floo powder. Rose was looking at him with reproach.
"I shall not go. I shall stay with Mummy until she is better. That was why Albus and I came here!" Bertie said stubbornly, turned and disappeared behind the door that led to Theo's study.
"She is tired and worried about her mum," Ron smiled faintly at his daughter. "Generally, she is very calm…"
Rose nodded, but did not say anything. She clearly spoke James' address and the password to the fireplace ("Hyppogriff Herd"), and vanished amidst green flames. Ron followed after her, appearing only moments later in the small parlor filled with morning sun. One could instantly sense James Potter's presence in this house: Seeker gloves lay in the corner, shin guards – on the table, the broomstick stood askew by the closet, and the Gryffindor banner was wrapped around the torch-lamp shade.
"Nobody is here now," Rose had looked in the kitchen, gone upstairs, come back, and even stepped outside, looking over the neighborhood, confused. "And probably hasn't been for a while…"
"Why do you think so?" Ron stood still, because he sensed danger hanging thickly in the air.
"Because the owl is sleeping in the kitchen, having arrived yesterday. She has the letter with yesterday's timestamp," Rose explained, walking over to the closet and looking at the broomstick. "Strange…"
"What?" Ron glanced at the photographs on the mantle and quickly turned away.
"I have never seen James leaving his broomstick strapped so sloppily," the girl reached to adjust the straps around the broomstick.
"Don't touch!" he shouted, leaping toward his daughter and grabbing her by the hand. "Don't touch anything here."
"What?"
"Just leave it," Ron asked, calmer now. "Dunno why, but it seems to me that it is a bad idea to touch anything here. Just take my word for it."
The girl nodded, still unsure what her father meant, but apparently trusting him. It was a good feeling.
"Look, Dad," Rose walked over to the sofa and picked up a folded Hogwarts cloak, with "Albus Severus Potter" label. "Where is he?"
Ron shrugged his shoulders: he did not know. Yet, he had a feeling that something shady was afoot. In the last few years he had learned to trust his gut feeling; to trust the part of him that always remained that of the beast, even when the sun shone in the sky.
The missing Albus. Danger permeating James' house. According to Rose, the vanished James and his wife.
"What have you gotten yourselves into this time?" he asked plainly, cautiously going around the parlor.
"Priscilla Zabini," Rose said after a momentary pause, looking at her father.
"What?"
"The last time I saw James was when he and Malfoy read the news article about Priscilla Zabini's release from Azkaban. They went to look for Lily and Xenia… Daddy, you don't think…?" she looked up at her father anxiously. "No, that's silly. I am just winding myself up… James and Albus must have gone to St. Mungo's to get Xenia…"
Ron didn't say anything, because his gut told him that his daughter was not worried for nothing.
"Shall we wait or go back?"
"What's the point of waiting?" but Rose went up the stairs to the second floor, just to have another look around: what if Albus fell asleep so soundly that he failed to hear them. Ron smiled affectionately: his daughter never lost hope as well as her belief that there was a way out of any situation.
Ron carefully avoided looking at the photographs where his loved ones were moving around. He didn't want to see them, to spare himself worse pain. His reunion with Rose had already made it crystal clear that his past life was well and truly gone.
"No one," she returned, looking lost. "Where could have Albus gone?"
Again, Ron didn't respond: there were tons of possibilities, but the only ones coming to mind were the bad ones.
"Let's go back, and then decide where to look for him."
"Daddy, maybe we should send a message to Xenia and James?"
"Let's go, we'll figure it out back at your place," Ron said off-handedly, still thinking about the photographs.
"I'll at least leave a note."
He waited silently for her to pen down a few words for her cousin, looking down at his big hands. There he was, reunited with his family…
He looked up: Rose was peering intently at her father.
"What?"
"It is good to have you near."
He tried to smile, but failed, and turned away to prevent her from seeing his eyes glimmer at the unexpected remark.
"Let's go; that Healer of yours must be worried."
"Bertie, too," Rose said calmly, stepping into the fireplace.