A/N: Chapter four is here. Ron complains a lot.

Who Kidnapped Ron Weasley? IV

Ron snaps his head back up. Unsure exactly when he has let his chin fall against his chest, blurry eyes blinking rapidly.

It takes him roughly five heart-beats to understand his boat has stopped moving and ten more to understand why.

His boat is sitting pretty on a dark sandy shore.

There is some odd mixture of hope and dread in him. Swirling in his belly like those blasted Whirlpools.

Ron is not sure if he has made it to the other shore or if the currents have tossed him back to the Creepy Murder Island.

He should probably check.

His limbs feel heavier than lead when he scoops up his bowl of merry bluebell flames and his trusty, orange rucksack. Somehow the thought of using his wand to make light doesn't even cross his exhausted mind.

He staggers few steps up the shore and looks around. There are rocks and sand. Some trees growing in the distance and- Oh look, more sand. Not at all different from the Murder Island yet.

The moon deigns to show itself and it makes looking around considerably easier. Up the shore, where the sand ends and the forest begins, Ron can see a narrow pathway winding through the short, gnarly trees.

"Huh," Ron huffs. Tired to the bone but happy enough to be on dry land.

Ron is... fairly certain He's not on the Murder Island anymore. The trees look slightly different, and he can see tall mountains in the distance, where the Murder Island only had hills.

He sighs in obvious relief, finding it hard to keep his eyes open. Judging by the position of the moon he has been rowing a whole day and better part of the night.

He's too tired to even feel hunger. The thirst is ignorable in his sheer need to sleep. With a sluggish wave, his happily dancing blue waves shrink and disappear completely.

His options regarding dry sleeping places are not overwhelming. While he is perfectly happy to never see another boat ever again, it will have to serve as a bed in lack of anything better.

Ron slumps down, places his rucksack under his head as a pillow and passes out more than falls asleep.

Ron dreams an old dream of going to buy shoes of all things. Harry is beside him. Telling him in an even, serious tone that he's going to be eaten by a giant marshmallow, any day now.

He blinks his dry eyes open to the obnoxious sound of birds singing.

The Morning is bright and shining. The sun rising over the sea almost poetry worthy.

Ron hates it all with a rather epic passion.

Water. He needs water, his throat is really dry but he's not really all that hungry. That... That might be bit bad. He ate a fish yesterday. And some pills. A Seriously kickass pills, but still. He should be hungrier than this.

Those pills had filled him with copious amounts of almost burning energy, perhaps they can keep hunger at bay as a bonus?

Whatever. He conjures water from his wand and drinks deeply and thinks.

Should he go along the shore and hope to meet someone that way, or should he try to make his way through the unknown forest?

Common sense says: go along the shore. He has way too much, ah- respect towards unfamiliar woods. *coughspidersgiantscentaurscough*

He is stiff like an old man but bullies himself up and hoists his rucksack to his back. It's considerably heavier now than it was couple days ago.

"Right, so," Ron bites his lip in concentration and let's his wand rest on his palm."Point me the nearest human."

His wand spins, and spins and finally points... towards the woods.

Ron doesn't even feel like cursing anymore. That has never happened before. He's so damn tired of all this shit he's starting to get all resigned and passive.

"Okay, off you go then chap," Ron slaps at his own cheeks and tries to muster up some small measure of enthusiasm. It's not really working. And he keeps talking to himself. Luna would be proud.

"Just a little more and I can get out of here and then-" Ron smiles at the strange forest manically."Then I'll find whoever kidnapped me and feed them to Noberta!"

Cheered up by that lovely mental image, Ron starts to briskly make his way towards the almost invisible dirt path.

The pathway is thankfully quite even, and he even manages to start cursing again when he gets hit on the face by a tree branch what feels like the sixth time.

He's so done with his stupid adventure that he can't even put it to words anymore.

Like in the boat, he keeps checking his direction every fifteenth minute or so. His wand guides him deeper and deeper into the forest. The trees are tall and weird. And the farther he goes the taller and weirder they get. Some he recognizes by sight and some he does not. Neville would be having the time of his life here.

Ron just hopes he doesn't fall into a pit full of devilsnare. That would be the perfect ending for this whole fiasco.

"I'm gonna sue that kidnapping bastard or bastards," Ron mutters savagely under his breath, "Or better yet, I'm gonna let Mum deal with them. That should be the end of them-"

There's a wet sounding slurp when his feet hit the ground. Ron frowns and looks around. The trees are as huge as before but now they are more- pine like. Some leafy ones are still around but not as many as before. The ground is wetter, almost spongy, and Ron can smell water nearby.

"A swamp," Ron snarls with twitching left eye."Of course. Let's make a path through a bloody swamp, why the hell not!"

A pair of magpies get startled into flight. Ron is too busy throwing a fit to notice.

Then someone is yelling in distress and Ron's head snaps towards the sound all rage forgotten.

"I'm coming!" Ron's feet keep slapping against the wet marshland, occasionally almost sinking. "Keep making noise. I'm almost there!"

Ron jumps over a bush and finally sees the source of the racket. There's an old lady in the swamp. Sinking at unnatural speed. Almost like something is-"

Ron narrows his eyes while hurriedly stretchin' his hand toward the old lady.

"Hey, grab onto me!"

The old lady screeches something in a language Ron doesn't quite understand and grabs onto his hand with her wrinkly ones.

There's something in the water. Ron can't make it out, but it's yanking at the old lady's robes violently. Threatening to send both her and Ron into the swamp.

"Repulso," Ron almost hisses, feeling so incredibly pissed at the world in general. The creature- whatever it is- hisses back but flinches enough that Ron manages to lift the old lady away from the water.

There's a splash as the creature- That Ron has files under 'things that Hagrid likes' - gives another go but Ron kicks out sharply and manages to hit its head.

After showing him some sharp teeth, the damn thing thankfully gives up and dives under the surface. There's an almost awkward silence, where the old lady clutches Ron's hand and tries to catch her breath, while Ron, sort of... pats her on the back.

"Good job, not getting eaten," Ron encouragingly says because he's an sensitive and tactful person like that.

The old lady blinks at him spectacles askew. Half-moon spectacles- Ron notes with some distant nostalgia.

She's a tiny old thing, but her grip on his hand is strong and Ron hopes she doesn't plan to have a heart-attack or anything.

"Umm," Ron wavers in the definitely awkward silence now and decides to shake her hand."Since she is already holding it and all."

"Ron Weasley," Ron says and gives her a winning smile. Or what he hopes is a winning smile, he's starting to vaguely feel like that tool Lockheart.

"Pleasure to meet you." Ron manages to force out with some desperation. She's still staring at him, eyes wide.

Oh, Merlin she's a Muggle isin't she. Did she notice him doing magic?

The old lady lowers her gaze from Ron to their hands- that Ron still keeps shaking like a loon- and says something starting with 'U' that Ron doesn't understand in the least.

"Um, I'm sorry ma'am I- I don't- Understand you. Ron wants to say, but is interrupted By a loud growling noise.

They both twitch and snap their heads to look at the swamp in case the creature has returned. But the swamp is empty and the monstrous, growling noise is-
- Is coming from Ron's stomach.

He feels his face heating up and grimaces in sheepish embarrassment as the noise just keeps going.

"Ah," Ron scratches his dirty cheek and smiles wobbily at the wet ground, "Er..."

The old lady snorts, audibly. Ron blinks down at her, and oh- she is smiling.

His hand, still in hers is being tugged. She pauses for a moment to lift a wicker basket from the grass and starts towing Ron behind her with a great sense of purpose.

Ron's legs are longer but somehow he still needs to jog to keep up with her stride.

He doesn't mind that he is being led. The old lady seems to know where she is going. And indeed it seems in no time at all he starts seeing smoke rising from chimneys in the distance.

"People!" Ron cheers in his mind "Food! Human interaction!"

'A way to go home' says some overly positive part of his brain.

There's a steaming bowl chicken and noodles and onions in front if his nose and a big possibility that he might start weeping soon.

Ron's new best friend — move out of the way Harry — The old lady,— or Mrs. Sumire as she had carefully pronounced and had him repeat after her no less than six times — was pouring him a glass of water with calm, even fingers. An opposite image of Ron's twitchy, shaking hands, that he was sorely tempted to shove into the bowl, never mind the heat.

Finally, she said something that Ron hoped was "Eat like a pig."because that was presicely what Ron did for the next ten minutes straight.

When he comes back up for air for few seconds, she was staring at him with wide, vaguely horrified eyes. Ron had abandoned the chopsticks she had kindly given him somewhere during the beginning of the meal. Opting to inhale the food straight from the bowl like a starved dog instead.

Her raised eyebrows reminded him vividly of Hermione and what she might say about his table manners- or the lack of them really.

With a last slurp he forced himself to lower the bowl back onto the table and was already smiling sheepishly with apologetic air, when the old lady- Mrs. Sumire frowned.

Feeling worried Ron looked down at the table. He hadn't spilled anything had he? Mrs. Sumire had been remarkably understanding while he was eating like this was his last meal. Even Mum might have made him at least use a fork, no matter how starved he was. But what was she frowning at-

Oh, while he had been inhaling his food, trying to get every last drop from the bowl, his sleeves had fallen down revealing the old, robe like, scars on his arms.

He lowered his sleeves with a different kind of embarrassment. It wasn't often that random strangers saw his scars and he understood the frown now. They were very unpleasant to look at.

She looked him in the eye with a weirdly intense look and said something in a concerned tone.

"These are pretty old By now," Ron told her and tapped his cloth covered left arm. "Got attacked By brains, believe it or not." Ron grinned knowing she couldn't understand him.

It was difficult to feel uneasy about anything at the moment. His stomach felt blissfully full and there was a surprising warmth running alongside his veins. He had not realised how cold he was if warm food made him feel like this.

The warmth was swirling pleasantly in his stomach, almost like he had taken a generous sip of fire whiskey.

"I can do the dishessh" Ron slurred, feeling very tired. Tired and warm. Fighting to keep his eyes open.

Mrs. Sumire tutted something at him, and he thought he heard something that might have been his name, when strong arms were tugging at him again.
Ron didn't put up much of a fight. He was herded into a dim room with a mattress of some sort laid on the floor.

His arm was released, and he pretty much collapsed on the spot. Almost asleep the moment his head hit a pillow.

Mrs. Sumire once again said something incomprehensible from the doorway and then-

"Sleep."

"Ah. I understood that."Ron thought as he dozed off.

A/N: Fishing old grannies from swamps. Just another normal day for a Gryffindor.

Regarding communication problems one would have when crossing dimensions. Let me tell you I Headcannoned the shit our of this one. Ron is not just randomly understanding their language. There method to this madness! Kudos to you who may have picked on what I'm doing.

And also I... May have to make this into story of its own because... I just keep adding shit! And there is still this and that thing that I want Ron to do, and I want him to meet that person and... *wails*

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