A/N: Crossover ideas. Mainly NarutoxHP variety. At least for now but other fandoms will start popping in too.

Summary: I) Who Kidnapped Ron Weasley? Ron wakes up in Uzushiogakure of all places. He has no idea how he got there but with his red hair and loud mouth he is destined to have fun times in the Narutoverse.

Who Kidnapped Ron Weasley? Part I

Ron wakes up with face full of dirt and mouth tasting like something foul crawled up and died in his throat. All in all, a rather shitty way to start the morning.

"Why is it so cold…"

"And when had he gone to bed?"

His limbs feel heavy and cold and there is also a worrying sense of dread rising in the back of his head. This is not his bed. His bed is soft and warm and fluffy. His bed smells like pie and home.

His fingers twitch and grope and he's clutching his hard-cold mattress, hands filling with dirt and sand.

"wha-"

Cold wind ruffles his hair, smelling like saltwater. He can hear waves and birds screeching in the distance. Seagulls, his sluggish mind uncertainly supplies, not quite certain if he's truly awake or still dreaming.

"What…"

He sits up and looks around.

"No…"

He stares blankly at the ruins of old buildings. Sun is bright in the sky and there seems to be a sea in the background. He's wearing his work clothes and can feel his wand pressing against his side through the robes.

His orange rucksack, the one he received from George just last week, is laying couple feet from him. Its bright orange colored and the Weasley's Wizard Wheeze's logo WWW has been stitched neatly on the top part. It's empty and just as shitty looking as Ron is feeling.

"But it's Sunday," he wails at the sky, "Why in the name of Merlin's favorite pair of green socks do I have to deal with this shit on Sunday!"

There's no answer, except for a pair of seagulls flying past him. One screeches like it's laughing at him, the tosser.

He lays back down, rubs his face with sleeves and ponders. He's been kidnapped. That much is clear. He is not tied up and there are no suspicious wankers in dark robes gloating at him or causing him pain so… that's always good.

So, if he's not been captured by Death eaters, Snatchers or Common Criminals… then what?

The odds that this is George's fault are rather enormous. But then again, the odds that this is somehow indirectly Harry's fault are not inconsiderable either.

George's sense of humor had suffered since Fred died but apparently no tragedy would be enough to lessen the amusement an older brother would get from tossing their witless younger brother on what seems like inhabited island in the middle of nowhere.

Ron wrinkles his nose in distaste. As a joke, it's a bit lame. If this is George's fault Ron will simply find his way back home and kick his brother's arse.

But if this is somehow Harry doings… well…

His best friend's luck could be called rather extreme on both ways and whacky adventures had become a yearly thing since they had first met.

"Harry!" he calls and after moment of hesitation, "Hermione!"

He listens for a moment but no one calls back. he's alone.

"Right. Well…" he scratches his head and looks around, "Seems I got a mystery in my hands." he looks suspiciously around.

"Who kidnapped Ron Weasley?"

There are fucking runes on the ground.

He had almost walked away without noticing them because over three quarters of the doodles are being covered by dirt and odd patches of grass.

Oh, and he had been sleeping on top of them.

The fact that he had woken up middle of what seemed like an incredibly complicated rune array did not escape his notice.

the implications were rather… worrying.

He is no expert on runes by any means, knows only half a dozen of them by sight and is passingly familiar with twice of that amount.

There are hundreds and hundreds of little runes on the ground. Neatly carved into stone in rows and circles and not even one looks even remotely familiar to him.

Ron clutches his empty rucksack strap in one hand in indecision for a moment. Finally, he slips his hand in his pocket and pulls out his wand. With a hopeful expression, he foolishly taps the big ass rune circle twice and waits. Nothing happens.

"Typical." he mutters. "That would be too easy, eh?"

Well, the doodles are useless. He has his wand, his clothes, his shoes and one empty orange rucksack.

And absolutely nothing else.

He gives a nervous glance towards the ruined buildings and tries to suppress the mental image of Hogsmeade in splinters.

He has no idea where he is, he has nothing to eat or drink and no way of contacting his friends or family. The wind is rather cold and despite the sun he is shivering.

Investigating the old buildings should be the obvious first step but…

The whole place looks like it got torn apart all the way to hell and back, by an enraged flock of dragons. Dragons with weapons. Some blades were still stuck to the wooden walls. Some laid rusting on the ground half hidden by weeds.

And if that was not creepy enough, there were animal bones laying near him. Like everything else in the ruins, the skeleton was covered and dirtied by nature, only few scattered sun-bleached bones shone in the sunlight, sad and forgotten.

Only… they weren't animal bones at all.

Ron swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry. Sweaty fingers clenching around his wand.

Here and there a pale shattered hand could be seen under the blanket of grass. A ribcage, a femur. a shattered skull.

Ghosts were not scary, he had met loads of them during his life.

He still did not want to approach the ruined village. It frightened him how violently these people had been killed. One small skeleton, obviously belonging to a child, was pitch black, bones half melted. Obviously burned.

He had been kidding about that dragons with weapons thing!

What had happened here? Why had no one buried these people?

Were they all… muggles?

Weapons and blades there were plenty but Ron could not see a single wand on the ground. Had they rotted and become part of the dirt or…?

Trying respectfully not to throw up, he crouched down over the nearest skeleton. With a moment of hesitation, he whispers "scourgify" and tentatively started cleaning the dirt and vegetation away with gentle sweeps of his wand.

What he discovers does not help him in the slightest.

This person had been wearing robes… of sorts. Not like any Ron had ever seen. He had also been wearing some sort of armor over them, made from tough leather like material. Ron poked it slightly but it did not feel like dragon leather.

Near the skeleton's skull there's a metal plate, sadly hanging on to threats of what used to cotton or something similar.

Ron lifts the plate with his thumb and forefinger and squints at it. It's rusted almost completely over but Ron can make out a spiral carved middle of it.

Decoration? Not sure what's he's holding he puts it politely back and looks down at the fallen warrior. And warrior he must have been because…

The corpse is also holding a damn sword.

A honest to Merlin sword.

And not a western sword either. This one was eastern sword, Ron could not remember what it was supposed to be called.

It was covered in dark layer rusted blood.

The possibility of this being a former wizarding Village was becoming smaller and smaller.

But did muggles even use swords nowadays? Ron's dad had been horribly enthusiastic about those foot-guns some years ago. Ron could still remember him gushing that they were almost as interesting as escalators.

Right, so, they had been fighting. A war perhaps? And lots of people had died.

It could not be a very recent war then. Muggles had aurors too, the pliize would have come and at least buried the poor people or arranged some other folks to do it.

But did muggles wear robes? Surely not.

Ron was getting a headache.

Leaving the corpse for now Ron chose the least damaged building he could find and entered. The door was gone and the roof was hanging low and the inside was a dusty mess of fallen over furniture and broken glass. Ron half expected to find another skeleton and was pleasantly surprised to find the house empty.

He would have a place to sleep if he was still stuck here when the night came.

Quietly tiptoeing over the floor, doing his best not to disturb any of the mess, he thought about what he should do next.

He needed a map. If he was near home he could just apparate back but if he was not… things would get little more complicated.

He would need clothes and food.

He began searching through the house. Near the entryway he found a pair of weirdest looking sandals he had ever seen but after looking at them he decided to put them aside.

He felt like a graverobber when he opened a closet in the entryway and found sturdy looking hooded capes. He guiltily took one big enough to fit him and hurriedly folded it inside his rucksack, trying very hard not to feel like he was stealing.

After looking around in a slightly paranoid manner he calmed down when no one came to whack him over the head for taking stuff that wasn't his.

Moving on Ron collected a couple dark blue shirts and one of those odd robes the skeleton had been wearing. He was a tall person and was slightly surprised when he noticed that the clothes were slightly too large for him.

He felt rather terrible for just taking other people's clothes but his situation was sort of an emergency and perhaps he could bury the dead in exchange?

As far as exchanged went, it was all quite morbid but Ron honestly couldn't think of anything else he could do.

Guilty conscience quieted for now Ron proceeded to kitchen area. This room was slightly less messy, someone had left a grey pouch on the table to collect dust. Some of the cupboards had been left wide open and empty. After carefully searching through all the corners (firmly avoiding all spider webs) Ron found a package of some sort of dry biscuits.

He looked at them sadly, stomach empty but not really feeling all that hungry after all the death he had seen, and put them inside his rucksack.

He investigated the dusty pouch next. Insides were filled with assorted weaponry: more of those small blades that seemed to cover every surface outside, some sort of sharp star thingies, paper with more stupid runes on them, and a container full of smallish black pill things.

Feeling weary he sat down on the table, searching through his pockets he found his watch and looked at the time. It was nearing two o clock in the afternoon. And it was Sunday.

Ron hopes that someone will come to search him soon. He was already getting quite sick of this adventure.

"This is much more fun with Harry and Hermione." he tells the dusty weapon filled pouch, it doesn't say anything back. A small mercy.

Remembering the chilly wind outside he takes off his own thinner robes and puts on the new weirder looking ones.

There's a mirror in the hallway dusty like rest of this place. Ron wipes it clean with his sleeve and looks at himself.

His face is pale and dirty. Red hair messy and clearly uncombed. His new robe is warmer than the old one. The color is slightly boring looking dark blue and there's a weird swirly pattern on the back of it.

Ron lifts his hands; the sleeves are wide and long and the collar of the robe is bit higher than he's used to but perhaps it's supposed to protect from the wind?

There are no visible pockets which is annoying since he has no place for his wand now. After some frustrated searching, he finds a small pocket like place inside his sleeve of all places.

Red eyebrows twitching in annoyance he sighs and puts his wand there. Better than nothing.

"So that's food and clothes," he mumbles. "Now I need just a map… and some paper to write on."

The chances of randomly coming across a trained post owl were close to nill, but perhaps he could hunt down one of those postmen and ask his letter to be delivered to Hermione's parents (and then to Hermione.)

Rummaging across the house he finds paper easily enough in a room that reminds him of Headmaster's office, full of books, scrolls and strange objects. There are no quills though. No pens either. What he does find is a Merlin damned brush.

Why a brush?

Ron is definitely getting an eastern vibe from these people. He better not be in Japan or some shit like that. He doesn't think he can apparate from Japan to England. He doesn't think he can even apparate from France to England.

But moving on, the good news is that Ron finds a map. There's a huge map hanging on the study room's wall and in a passable condition.

The bad news, well…

The map is a bit weird…

A/N: Part II will be here soon...