Summary: Everyone else has gone back in time and hooked up with someone: Hermione, Ginny, even Neville!! What’s wrong with me? What am I not doing?

Disclaimer: I do not own Ron, the Marauders, etc. But I do own the O/C, which will come in later chaps.

KEY:

"words" - thoughts

Sounds, special words

Thud! The once floating body fell from the air onto the cold, dirty ground. Ron pushed himself on his hands and quickly scrambled to his feet, his body sore. His eyes wildly searched the clearing for his attacker. "This is the same clearing but where’s the werewolf?...” The ground was scratch-free as well, giving no implications of a scuffle, which Ron found odd.

"I have to get out of here before that wolf smells me out." Picking a random direction and hoping it was the right way, Ron traversed blindly through the darkness. Passing many protruding branches and brambles, Ron’s pants were torn and the exposed skin soon became red from constant irritation. Still, Ron moved forward. He had to get out of this eternal darkness that was looming behind him and inviting him forward.

Ron’s head grew light. It had to be at least 6 hours since he had last eaten, which was at dinner, which he had just picked at in his dejected state. The foliage turned slightly greener around him as the sun climbed through the blue sky, though Ron couldn’t see the colours. It was still grey under the trees, the leaves blocking out most of the light. "Am I even getting anywhere?”

The wind was picking up. The blanketing effect of the thick forest kept out most the cold but didn’t stop the occasional gale from swiping through the tree trunks. Ron held himself, rubbing his hands on his arms through the coat fabric. Tying his scarf tighter around his mouth, leaving only a sliver for his eyes, he thought, "What I wouldn’t give for a nice hot chocolate right about now."

He ambled aimlessly, tripping up on various oddly placed branches and twigs because of his obscured vision. "Will I ever get out? Will I be found? And by what?" He was so preoccupied in his daunting thoughts; his foot hit another ill-placed rock jutting out from the ground. Without time for any proper message to stop him from falling, Ron’s arms flailed in the air. His forehead hit a thick tree root a few feet ahead. The concussion caused Ron to black out as he lay in the mess of roots and stones, the blood from his forehead staining the grass underneath him.

“Aah, you’ve woken up.” Blearily, Ron opened his eyes but quickly shut them. "So bright." His head felt like needles were pricking him from all sides. Fighting the pain, he tried again, squinting from behind his eyelids at his surroundings.

It was the Hospital Wing in all its resplendent sterile glory! Someone had found him out there in the forest. He had no idea how long he had been out but it must have been awhile. In the forest, it had just been turning gray but it could have been later owing to the disorienting darkening effect of the overly thick forest. He was no longer freezing being tucked nicely under the blankets, which had been induced with a heating charm. Bright sunlight also helped to warm the room. Streaming through the windows, the light was bouncing off the polished floors, the mirrors above each of the beds and the metal trays of instruments by their sides.

“Son, how are you feeling?” Looking towards the source of the voice, it took a few seconds for Ron to register exactly what he was seeing.

It was a slightly aging man, maybe just beginning his 5th decade of life. He had curly ginger hair that was now being dotted with silver. He sported a few wrinkles around his eyes and the corners of his mouth but at his age, who didn’t? Distinguishingly, a small wart sat on the edge of his nose, but instead of marring his face, it seem to accentuate the man’s mortality and aged wisdom. He bore a similar likeness to someone Ron had previously seen but he couldn’t place the face at the moment.

“Son, do you know where you are?” the man asked another question to Ron’s silence. He reached out to touch Ron’s shoulder. Ron’s eyes grew alert, the touch felt so strange. It was as if he had just regained feeling to his body, it felt strange to even exist below his neck.

With a little more effort than necessary, Ron got the gears in his head to work to try and formulate an answer to the man’s constant queries (although it had only been three). His throat burned when he tried to speak though, causing only a raspy puff of air to escape his throat.

Ron’s face heated up in embarrassment. He couldn’t even form a word to answer the man who had seemingly rescued him from the Forbidden Forest.

The man smiled serenely at Ron, ignoring his faint blush, as if that reaction was expected from him. He produced a glass of water in his other hand seemingly out of thin air and propped Ron up to help him to drink. After Ron had imbibed almost the whole glass, the man helped him to lie back down, placing the glass on the side table.

Clearing his throat, Ron said, “Thank you, Sir.”

“No problem, son. Now maybe we can get some answers, though you seem to have already answered my first somewhat and you seem to be in no more danger. Let’s start with, do you know where you are.”

“I’m at Hogwarts’ Hospital Wing, aren’t I?” Ron answered uncertainly. He sat up suddenly in the bed, his head throbbing in resistance of the action. Ron clutched his head as the pain subsided. Maybe, he had been found by the wrong people, the kind who friend you up with glasses of water but eat your brains afterwards. "Great Ron. You’ve been successfully kidnapped by your own fault."

“Why yes, you’d be correct. But my current confusion is how do you know this? To my knowledge, only Hogwarts students have seen the inside of these walls. You are still within schooling age, so you are not a past student, but I have never seen you here before and believe me when I say I’ve seen many students.”

“What are you talking about, Sir? I’m a 6th year Gryffindor student. I was just at dinner last night, or at least before I got lost in the Forbidden Forest. And I can’t say that I’ve seen you before either.”

“I can see that you are a Gryffindor from your uniform and scarf but this just helps to heighten my suspicion. If you were a student, you would have definitely seen me, if not I you by some old-age forgetfulness. I’ve taught here for over 25 years.”

“None of this makes any sense,” Ron sighed defeatedly, dropping back on his pillows, his eyes closed. Opening one eye in the direction of the man, he asked, “By the way, who are you, Sir?”

“Why young lad, this may just prove that you are not who you claim to be or you’ve been living under a rock for some time. I seem to be quite known from within these halls to across the land. I rarely have the pleasure of introducing myself personally. Son, my name is Albus Dumbledore.”