Ron didn't know exactly what he had been expecting when he returned home for the summer, but somehow the way nothing seemed to change at all surprised him the most.

Fred and George still did whatever they did on their own, loudly creating whatever noisy or annoying magical creations they decided upon for that week. Percy still strutted about, acting as though his ability to study was, of course, the only thing that mattered to anyone.

Ron had Harry's visit to look forward to, but that wouldn't be for weeks yet. And, for some reason, his mother seem to think that meant he needed to spend the entire time leading up to said visit cleaning.

"But mum," Ron complained, "Harry won't care. He's just as messy as I am, and I need to practice for Quidditch."

His mum got that odd expression on her face that always seem to happen whenever anyone mentioned Ron's particularly unique sorting.

The fact that he would be, for the first time in centuries, a Weasley playing for a house other than Gryffindor did not sit well with his parents. Fred and George, as usual, treated the whole thing is a joke. Ron very much wanted to prove them wrong, prove to them that he could be just as good a beater as they were.

He didn't particularly relish the thought of going up against Harry, of course. That was the one part of this whole affair that made him feel a little uncomfortable. Harry was his best friend after all, and he didn't want their competitive natures to cause that friendship to splinter.

Your house is like your family, but now Ron was in a different house. A different family? Would Harry even still want to be his friend if he was a Hufflepuff? Of course he would. Harry wasn't the sort to judge people just because of their house.

Remembering their adventures together the previous year made Ron smile. It wasn't anything compared to what his parents had gotten up to during their school years, but it also only been the first year. Run dearly hope that the second year would be even more interesting and exciting. Wasn't that what Hogwarts is all about? Well, that and learning magic.

If Ron felt a bit distant from his family, it was nothing new. He'd always been the baby; overlooked, ignored. Even his little sister Ginny got more attention than he did.

At Hogwarts he may be the Four-House boy, but here? He was just Ron.

He couldn't say why that bothered him so much. Everything was just like always had been. So why did he feel like things had changed? Was it the now-familiar weight of the Belt of Gryffindor around his waist? The fact that in a couple months he would become a Hufflepuff?

He spent more time than ever before roaming the grounds around the Burrow, wandering through the open fen and wild hills. He kept clear of the Muggle village, avoided the Lovegood and Diggory homes, and found his thoughts turning again and again over how things had changed without really changing.

He found it hard to imagine going to Hogwarts for a second year and not staying in the dorm with Harry, with Neville, with Seamus and Dean. He tried to imagine fitting into a whole different group, one who already had a year of bonding on their own, who had heard of him and rumors about his and Harry's adventures, but none of whom had actually met him.

It would be even worse the next year. Whether he ended up in Ravenclaw after Hufflepuff or Slytherin, Ron had a hard time imagining himself fitting in with either of those groups once they'd had two full years to solidify their own alliances. His fourth year would be a complete nightmare, he was sure.

He could see himself as a Gryffindor, see himself as a Hufflepuff, even imagine himself as a Ravenclaw. But he could not begin to picture himself as a Slytherin.

He couldn't imagine why the sorting hat would've considered putting him in that house at all.

Harry was late. Ron didn't know if this was due to Harry forgetting the date or if Harry's relatives had interfered. Even from the little he knew about them, Ron suspected it was probably the latter.

A year ago, Ron would have assumed that the problem was insurmountable on his own and gone begging for Fred and George's help, but a lot had changed during his first year at Hogwarts and Ron Weasley was no longer the same boy as a year ago.

First, Ron grew increasingly concerned all month at the lack of communication from his friend. Dean had sent Ron several letters, Seamus even more, and Ron had even gotten one letter from Neville. But, though he sent several queries with Errol, Harry alone had failed to reply to his attempt at communication.

Second, Ron had a fair idea from what Harry had said (and perhaps more importantly, not said) about his relatives to guess that they didn't like magic one bit, nor Harry very much either. He'd hoped drastic measures wouldn't be necessary, but it appeared he had no choice. He'd wait until nightfall, but if Harry never appeared then Ron would take matters into his own hands.

His first step was to locate Harry's actual neighborhood. He had the address, from when they'd promised to write each other, but he didn't know where Surrey was in relation to the Burrow.

Fortunately, his father was fixing up an old muggle vehicle and it had contained several maps. Under the pretense of asking about the car, Ron was able to get him talking - enthusiastically - about how ingenious muggles were in getting around their inability to apparate, use floo powder, or cast a location charm.

Ron knew the world was big, but somehow he hadn't imagined just how much blank space there was separating him and Harry. Magic brought communities together. However farflung they were, it took only a floo hookup or a portkey and you could be there in minutes. Muggles, though, had to physically traverse the entire distance between places.

Ron could have asked his father to arrange for floo connection to Harry's house, or a custom portkey, but he decided that he'd do this himself. No parents, no twins, no Percy most of all. Just pure Ron Weasley initiative and innovation.

He and Harry were both pretty good on brooms, so he snuck a pair of the family Cleansweeps out from the back shed that afternoon. One was Charlie's and the other Ron's own. Next, he needed a way to carry Harry's luggage, and without access to magic he couldn't perform a featherweight enchantment or a levitation charm. He thought the restriction of underage magic was, on the whole, a poorly thought through law that really ought to be changed at the first opportunity.

He spent most of the afternoon trying to solve the problem, eventually ending up with a series of straps and loops hanging underneath Charlie's broom, which could be used to secure Harry's trunk.

By the time evening began darkening the sky, Ron was quite hoping that Harry would show up and render all this preparation excessive. He refused to abandon his friend, yet didn't especially want to fly halfway across the world.

But as night fell and the last light of sunset faded completely away, Ron was forced to admit that there was no more sign of Harry's arrival than there had been letters from him throughout the summer. Their agreed-upon meeting time had come and gone, and there was no Harry.

Determined, but not without some trepidation, Ron wrote a quick note for Fred so no one would worry, then tied the second broom behind his own and took off into the darkness.

The trip to Surrey was long, and in many ways surreal. Ron had never in his life spent so much time in flight, never followed muggle highways in the dark, never seen the false-sunrise glow of their cities. By the time Ron located the borough of Little Whinging, he was well and truly completely tired of flying.

He located 4 Privet Drive without difficulty, the faint resonance of protective enchantments sweeping over him as he flew close. If Ron had meant Harry harm he knew he'd have been deflected away, but the spells did nothing to impede him. The house was brightly lit, surrounded by more parked vehicles than he'd seen near any of the other homes, and from the sounds coming from within some manner of celebration was in full swing.

The upstairs windows were dark, so Ron flew carefully toward the nearest. He dearly wished he could use magic to unlock the window; he wasn't quite as adept as either of his older twin brothers at unlocking things by muggle methods, and doing so while trying to balance a broomstick in flight added another level of difficulty. But he managed.

Leaving the brooms to hover beside the window, Ron crept into the upstairs hallway. The sounds of revelry from downstairs surely covered any sounds he might make, but he was still quite nervous. Creeping about a muggle home in the dark wasn't something he'd ever expected to be doing.

He tried to think back. Had Harry ever mentioned which room was his?

Ron quietly pushed open one door, only to find himself confronted with an empty and unkempt bedroom. The next door was tidier, but equally unoccupied. Ron scowled slightly. That ruled out half the doors on the level. One had a cat-flap, so it probably led to a balcony or something. Though he hadn't seen a balcony on his flight in, but it had been quite dark.

He chose the other door first, and found it locked. He didn't dare knock. Occasional footsteps and creaks were one thing, but a rhythmic knocking would be much more noticeable.

Ron pressed a hand against the door, but he didn't know how to defeat a muggle style door lock without using magic. His own wand, being passed to him from his much-older brother, and an uncle before that, did not carry the Trace any longer, but Harry's would. Any magic done in his immediate proximity would be attributed to Harry, if noticed.

He really hoped it wouldn't be noticed.

"Harry, if you're in there, stand well clear of the door," Ron whispered as loudly as he dared. There was no reply, so he took several steps away from the door until he was as far from it as he could safely cast the spell, and whispered, "Alohomora."

The lock clicked audibly, and Ron froze a moment. The sounds didn't change, so he was probably safe. He waited another moment, then crossed to the door and opened it. It was an empty guest bedroom, with no sign that anyone had stayed there in months.

Ron frowned and reclosed the door. The balcony door had several locks on it. He stepped well away - as far away as the hall allowed with an angle on the door, which was much less than the guest room door - and whispered, "Alohomora tria," envisioning the spell as expanding in size rather than strength as it flew invisibly toward the door. Several of the locks clicked open, but he had to cast the spell twice more to get them all.

He opened the door and found, not a balcony, but Harry. He lay asleep, face calm in repose, but looking as thin and unhealthy as ever. Ron scowled even more sharply when he noticed the bars over the window, the indications that Harry had been so forcefully restrained. No wonder he hadn't arrived as scheduled. His owl saw Ron then and gave a low warning hoot. Harry snapped awake, looking around and tensed as though about to jump out of bed and run for his life.

"Woah, slow up there mate," Ron whispered. "'s just me, Ron. I'm here to fetch you back home with me. I'm sure you needn't stay here any longer."

"I think I must be dreaming," Harry muttered quietly. "May as well play along." He began collecting his things at a leisurely rate, and Ron began to feel impatient.

"You're not dreaming, promise. Where's your wand?"

"Oh, hidden somewhere. They didn't want me to have it, in case I broke out." His voice dropped, but Ron still heard it. "Like I'd have anywhere to go."

Ron stilled, turned from Hedwig to frown at Harry. "You know you're always welcome at the Burrow, right?"

"Sure," Harry said, but his voice was flat, obligatory, not like he actually believed it.

"Bloody hell, mate," Ron muttered. He took a calming breath, not wanting to do anything drastic like slap Harry to make him see sense, then spoke in forced quiet. "I see why you haven't written back," gesturing toward the barred window, "but you have no call to go doubting us. I told you you could visit, I've sent you invitations with details on how to find us a dozen times, and you say you have nowhere to go?"

Harry laughed softly, a humorless and forced sound. Ron felt even more concerned than before.

"Sure, Ron."

Ron was again overcome with the urge to smack Harry to make him see sense, but though he wouldn't have hesitated to hit any of his brothers, Harry looked so fragile and vulnerable already that Ron restrained himself firmly.

"You're not dreaming," Ron insisted, his voice rising.

Harry smiled and nodded, continuing to casually collect the items scattered throughout his room.

"Where's your trunk?" Ron asked.

"Locked in the cupboard downstairs."

"I'll be back with it, then."

Ron descended the stairs, freezing when one of them let out a sharp creak, but there was no reaction. He breathed out slowly, then continued down. The bottom three steps would be in full view of the open livingroom area, so he jumped over the railing and dropped down beside the cupboard instead.

The cupboard was locked with a slide bolt from the outside, so he simply unlatched it and pulled the door softly open. Harry's trunk lay there, thrown in with no care taken to situate it properly, one corner flattened and gouged into the wall behind it.

Ron dragged Harry's trunk out, but it made a dull thump as it hit the floor. It was heavier than it looked, and Ron wasn't the most physically fit Weasley. He dragged it to the back door and called his broom down, strapping the trunk in as planned. He took off gently, the broom's lift thrown off by the trunk's drag, but his sticking charms and knots sufficed to keep it connected. He flew up to Harry's window, where Harry passed out his clothing between the bars to stuff unceremoniously into the trunk.

It took only a few minutes, then Ron sent him around to the open hall window to climb onto Charlie's broom. Ron saw Harry's eyes light up with the first genuine emotion he'd seen as he took his wand gently from the trunk and held it in his hands.

"This isn't a dream," Harry said quietly, and with that his whole affect transformed. He grinned over at Ron, then punched the air. "Where are we going?"

"Home. It'll be a bit of a trip, but I think I remember the main landmarks. Just follow my lead, and we'll be back to the Burrow before you know it!"

Ron may have remembered the landmarks, but things look different coming from the opposite direction and he hadn't been paying particularly much attention. As such, it wasn't long before he was hopelessly lost. He had a general sense of which direction they'd come from, and he could follow the muggle roads most of the way, but any time they reached a city there were so many roads splitting off in every direction, and Ron couldn't be sure he'd chosen the right one.

It didn't help that the night got colder and chillier the longer they flew. Harry was chattering with cold, and Ron wasn't doing much better. Finally resigning himself to the fact that he'd gotten them lost, he descended toward the outskirts of a town and approached the nearest home with a light on.

"Wait here, I'll ask for directions," Ron instructed. Harry huddled by the fence, not arguing the point. A dog started barking as Ron approached, and a cat curled up by the door gave Ron a bored look.

Ron put on a smile and knocked firmly on the door. A few moments passed, then a muggle man came and peered out at him through the screen.

"Excuse me, I've lost my way and need to get back to Ottery St. Catchpole," Ron said. "Could you point me in the right direction?"

The man looked around the yard, as though looking for something. "Bit young to be out alone at night, aren't you?"

"I'm fine," Ron snapped. "I don't need anyone trying to take care of me. I just need directions."

"Where was it you said you were heading?"

"Ottery St. Catchpole."

"Never heard of it, but I've got a map around here somewhere. Come on in and warm up a minute, I'll look it up for you."

Ron shifted uncomfortably. "I'll wait here, thanks."

The man snorted and shrugged. "Suit yourself. Back in a mo."

Ron waited. The dog barked, and the cat went back to sleep. Finally, the muggle returned. He had a map with him, but was frowning. "I can't find any Ottery St. Catchpole anywhere in the area. How far away is it?"

"Oh, not more than a couple hours," Ron said. "Can I see that?"

The man nodded and opened the screen door, passing the map out to Ron. He waited patiently while Ron spread it out against the house's wall, looking for anything recognizable. "Surrey," he muttered, finding Harry's home area, then turned the map this way and that until he found an orientation that looked like how he'd flown in. Fortunately, maps had a tendency to strongly resemble the view from the air.

"Ah, there!" Ron said, pointing to a blank spot between two little muggle villages. "And, where are we now?"

"Here," the man said, pointing to a spot well to the south and east of where Ron had thought they were. He'd gotten more turned around than he'd realized.

He pulled out a quill and parchment, copying down the relevant parts of the map, then returned it and thanked the muggle. He gave Ron another long, somewhat confused look, then shrugged. "Be careful out there, kid."

"I'll be fine. Thank you."

He made two more wrong turns before they finally reached the Burrow, at which point Ron was more than eager to do nothing but collapse into bed. Unfortunately, his flight - and hours-long absence - had not gone unnoticed.

"RONALD BILIOUS, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!"

Ron jumped and span around. His mother's voice could have woken the dead, much less anyone trying to sleep in the house. So much for slipping in quietly.

"I was rescuing Harry, Mum. He was locked up!"

"That's no excuse! You shouldn't have gone alone, shouldn't have gone at all, weren't you thinking? Do you have any idea what time it is? Your father and I could have Apparated to Surrey and been back without causing anyone undue worry."

Ron winced. "Sorry, Mum," he said quietly. "But it was really important."

"I'm sure it was. Everything is important to you, but that doesn't mean you should be flouting the rules. You know full well you're not permitted to be flying this late, and that's not even mentioning the fact you flew halfway across the country!"

"I said I'm sorry, can we just get to bed now? Please?"

His mother's angry, worried face relaxed a little, and Ron knew she'd finally noticed how tired he and Harry were. "Yes, of course. Harry, dear, don't worry. We'll take good care of you. Go on upstairs and get some rest."

Ron hurried toward the stairs, Harry in tow, hoping to escape to his room before his mum thought of anything else to yell about, but their flight was hindered by twin figures blocking the way from halfway up.

Ron groaned.

"Is ickle Ronnie in trouble?" Fred asked, grinning.

George clicked his tongue reprovingly. "Shouldn't go sneaking around at night, Ronnie. It's just not acceptable behavior."

"Out of the way," Ron grumbled. "I'm really tired."

"Did you really fly all the way to Surrey?" George asked.

"Did you really fly all night without falling off?" Fred asked, grinning even more widely than his twin.

"Come on, leave off."

"Keeping such a thrilling story to yourself? How greedy of you. Don't worry, we'll get it out of you one way or another."

"Not tonight," Ron said.

He could hardly keep his eyes open. He couldn't remember ever being so exhausted before in his life. He was sure if he waited much longer he'd start hallucinating or just collapse.

Harry let out a huge yawn behind him.

Fred and George did comically synchronized double-takes.

"Harry? Well, this changes things. You actually had a reason to sneak off like that?"

"I guess we'd better let them get their sleep, then."

Ron trudged past them as they moved aside, and hardly even remembered reaching his room and falling into his bed.

He awakened in midday sunlight, still fully dressed, shoes and all. It took a moment to remember why, then the whole trip came back to him and he smiled. They'd gotten Harry here safely, which was all that mattered. He knew his mum would come up with all sorts of extra chores for him as punishment, but he didn't care. He'd do it again in an instant, freezing and sore and lost and all.

Author's Note:

Weird chapter, this. I'm trying not to rehash canon too closely, but I also haven't made any changes that would impact Harry. So. . . :shrug:

This chapter is posted courtesy of Otium, who reminded me that this story exists, has readers, and was actually a lot of fun to wok on. I can't promise to post the Hufflepuff arc soon, but I can promise that the story has not been forgotten. :)