Scattered

Ron squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw as tightly as his mother's arms were currently wrapped around him, and that was saying something. Mum was sobbing and squeezing the life out of him as she had a hundred times before -- at the beginning of term each year, whenever anything remotely dangerous had happened in his near-vicinity or, really, whenever they left the house, for that matter. She'd been doing it all his life, to all of her sons and especially to her daughter, and Ron had long ago perfected the time-honored Weasley tradition of rolling his eyes and looking exasperated and patiently waiting until Mum was done with him. This time, though, he couldn't seem to pull it off. Instead, his eyes were stinging and his throat felt tight; he was dangerously close to, well, crying, almost. And that wouldn't do at all; he wasn't a little boy clinging to his mother's robes anymore. He couldn't let his brothers see him bawling like a baby... he certainly couldn't let Hermione see him acting that way.

"Mum, you're choking me," he tried to joke.

"Be quiet, I don't care," his mother said, but she pulled back in order to be able to look up into his face. "When we heard what had happened--"

Ron shook his head. "I wasn't... I wasn't even there, Mum. It was just Neville and... and Hermione."

He looked away, then, scanning the room for her. She was over by the fireplace, surrounded by familiar faces... Madame Pomfrey, their old school nurse... Mr. and Mrs. Diggory... to Ron's surprise, he saw Ernie Macmillan come into the room and hold out his hand to Hermione in greeting. She gasped and gave the startled boy a hug instead.

At the top of the stairs they'd found a large, warm room reminiscent of the Gryffindor common room, with a fireplace, sofas and chairs, window nooks. It was much, much larger, however, with a handful of archways leading off to parts unknown. There'd been a small crowd waiting for them, including his parents, the Diggorys, some people Ron didn't know by name that had worked at the Ministry with his Dad. Bill and Charlie were nearby talking to their father right now, while Ron had been yanked into his mother's arms the moment he'd entered the room.

His mum was watching him now, carefully; he tried to smile but couldn't. He'd never been able to keep how he was feeling from her, not as a little boy and apparently not even now. He met her eyes reluctantly but found nothing but steadfast love and concern there.

"I know. It's going to be alright now, Ron," she said quietly. "It's all over. You're here and you're safe."

Ron had a thousand questions, things he wanted to know; where they were, for starters, and why everyone was so sure that it was safe there. They'd thought the safehouse was secure as well, after all... and where Ginny was, if they'd heard from Harry, where in the world they both were and were they okay... but he didn't ask anything, not right now, because despite all of his misgivings, there was something undeniably reassuring about being told by one's mum that everything was going to be okay. Bill swept in and grabbed their mother in a fierce hug, causing her sobs to begin anew. Ron took a step back and tried to catch his breath... there, that was better. He hadn't really lost it or anything like that, he'd just been going along with Mum's usual hysterics. That's all. He was fine, not feeling the least bit weepy at all.

Then he felt a familiar hand on his shoulder, and heard his father say his name.

"Ronald," was all his dad said, and Ron was a goner; he grabbed his father in the same tight embrace his Mum had laid on him and held on for all he was worth... suddenly not really caring if anyone saw how wet his eyes were.

Arthur Weasley patted his son on the back comfortingly and steered him over to one of the sofas. Ron couldn't seem to string the words together to say anything coherent. "Dad, it's... I'm just glad..."

"I know, son," his father said reassuringly. "Your mother and I can't tell you how relieved we are to have you with us again." He paused. "I know the past few months have been terribly hard for you, and for everyone. But I'm proud of you -- we both are -- for how brave you've been through it all."

Ron blanched and looked away. "I haven't been brave. I've been scared to death the whole time," he confessed.

"That doesn't mean you weren't brave. You were," his father insisted quietly. "Bravery doesn't exist without something to be afraid of, after all."

"Hermione said the same thing," Ron muttered.

Mr. Weasley smiled and looked across the room. Ron followed his father's gaze to see his mother and Hermione talking to Bill; Mum had her arm around Hermione's shoulders and was beaming at something Bill was saying.

"Your mother's been sick with worry about her since we heard what happened," his dad said quietly. "We're going to have Poppy Pomfrey take a look at her as soon as possible. Just to be sure," he reassured Ron, who'd frowned with concern. "You know how much we all love Hermione. And how sorry we are... about Neville. He was a fine boy."

Ron nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He kept watching Hermione, thinking about how close he'd come to losing her.

She turned, then, as if she could feel his gaze resting upon her. Her smile was wide and brilliant and it should have made him smile in return. Instead he felt as if there were sharp iron clamps locking around his heart and a chill spreading through his bones. Hermione's smile faltered and she took a step towards where he and his father were sitting. At that moment, however, his Mum was bringing forward someone for Hermione to meet, one of the Ministry people Ron hadn't been able to identify when they'd first arrived. Ron watched her turn to greet the man politely; he could read the confliction on her face, however, and knew he'd worried her.

"You know, on some level, you never really do stop worrying," his father said, drawing Ron back from his reverie. "It just goes with the territory. When you have kids, it's ten times as bad, though I know that doesn't seem possible to you right now."

Ron could feel the flush spreading over his face and his ears practically burned. "I just -- it's bad enough, you know, that Harry's out there... If anything happened to Hermione..." He choked off the rest of the sentence, unable to continue.

"I know, son. Nothing's going to, though, not anymore. Of course, you'll always worry about the people you love, Ron, but these have been extreme circumstances. It will get better, I promise you that."

He nodded, reassured by his father's words but still inexplicably tense and anxious. Why was it so hard for him to stop feeling this way?

The Diggorys and the rest took their leave, heading through one of the archways Ron had noticed earlier. Bill and Charlie took over a nearby sofa, with their Mum happily ensconced between them. Percy settled into an armchair and Hermione slipped between the tables and chairs to sit next to Ron. She placed a soft hand on his arm and he turned and tried to smile at her. She was still clearly concerned but she smiled back.

"Now this is something I like seeing," his father said with a warm smile. "And when your sister gets here, she'll be overjoyed to have you boys here to welcome her."

"Where is Ginny?" Ron asked, unable to stop himself. "Can't she be brought here too now?"

His mum smiled. "She's on her way. She'll be here within a few days."

Ron felt a small fraction of the tension ease from his body; she was on her way, at least. "And Fred? And... George?"

His parents shared a quiet look and his father sighed. "Fred will come soon. But... we still haven't heard from George."

They were all unable to put into words the fear that had been gripping each one of them for all this time: that they might never hear from George again. Ron lived in fear of receiving the news one day, the worst news of all, that George was... gone. But at the same time, he was beginning to fear the alternative almost as much: never knowing what had happened to his brother.

Hermione took his hand in hers and rubbed her thumb across his knuckles. He gave her a grateful smile and then caught his mother's watchful eye. Mum was beaming and trying not to say anything, he could tell. This time he was able to roll his eyes quite well.

"Ron, Hermione, I know you must have quite a few questions about where we are and what has happened. It's also been a long day for all of you and you should get settled in -- so I'll try the short version, if that's alright?" his father said, a twinkle in his eye.

Ron nodded.

"Of course, Mr. Weasley," Hermione said.

His father gave her a thoughtful look, then smiled and continued. "Hermione, have you ever been to the Hebrides?"

"Yes, when I was younger. My parents liked to go on motor tours and there was one long one we took up into north Scotland. My father wanted to go; my mother wasn't very excited about it, I remember. Mum likes cities more than rural areas, for travel," she explained. "The Hebrides contain many fine communities and towns and amenities, but it's hardly what you'd call urban."

"Doesn't Mum's Aunt Gracia live there?" Ron asked. "The one with all the cats and the weird owl that won't take any post?"

"That's the one," his father said. "Remember visiting her?"

Ron nodded slowly, thinking back. "All those islands, that's what I remember. Bill and Charlie were show-offs and kept Apparating to the next island over and back."

Percy laughed out loud and Ron looked at his brother in surprise; Percy wasn't known for having much of a sense of humor and Ron didn't think he'd said anything especially funny, in any case.

"They got in so much trouble for doing that," Percy explained when he saw Ron looking at him. "I told Mum and Dad, of course."

"Oh, of course," Charlie said, looking exasperated.

Percy just grinned and looked unrepentant. "One doesn't get many opportunities for payback with older brothers like you two," he said with a shrug. "I took advantage of every chance that came along."

Ron couldn't help chuckling a little. He'd always thought Percy was, frankly, a bit of a stick-in-the-mud. But on the other hand, Bill and Charlie had lorded it over all of their younger siblings and Ron had never thought about what it must have been like coming along right after them, always living directly in their shadow. Tattling wasn't his preferred method of retribution, but a part of him didn't entirely blame Percy for going that route where their two eldest brothers were concerned. He caught Percy's eye and grinned back.

"You remember correctly, Ron," their father said, ignoring the boys' conversation. "There are a number of islands that make up the Hebrides' main chain, and many more smaller ones in the outlying areas. Your Great-Aunt lived on Barra, if you recall," their father said, ignoring the boys' conversation.

"That's one of the smaller islands," Hermione said. "About a hundred or so square kilometers." She paused and then added, hesitantly, "Is that where we are?"

Ron looked at his father expectantly. He didn't remember Great-Aunt Gracia's house being anything like this, but maybe they were someplace nearby?

"In Barra?" his father said. "No. But we are in the Hebrides, on an island named Liath Cuan. It's about, oh, half the size of Barra."

Ron felt a strange feeling of relief at the news. They weren't so very far away from home, then... Except, he reminded himself for the thousandth time, you don't have a home anymore. There's nothing there now. Still, they were still in Britain. For some reason, that gave him comfort.

But Hermione was frowning. "There's no island in the Hebrides by that name. At least not..."

"Not what?" Ron interjected, puzzled. She'd trailed off and had that look on her face, the one that meant she was mentally working something out.

"Not of that size," she finished distractedly. "There are scads of small islands, and those could be named anything, I suppose -- but not one as big as this one must be with that name." She paused again, then asked his father, "Does it have another name?"

"No."

Hermione looked pensive, but then her face suddenly lit up with discovery and astonishment. "It's Unplottable?! The entire island?"

Bill nodded. "I know. It's hard to believe, but it's true. With strong and old magic."

Ron gaped at Hermione; he didn't know how she'd figured the whole thing out but it didn't matter; she'd hit the mark as usual, and he was just as surprised at the news as she. He'd never heard of anyone making anything bigger than a house Unplottable; he had certainly never heard anything about a whole secret island, and yet his parents had been living there for months. They had to have known about this place, but how? Was it an Order thing, sort of the biggest safehouse of them all? Or something else?

"How did you find this place?" he asked his parents.

It was Mum that answered. "We didn't. I don't think any wizard alive knew it existed, except, of course, for the one who it belonged to."

"Was he a member of the Order?" Ron asked.

"Indeed he was," his father replied. "This was Albus Dumbledore's." He chuckled softly at their surprised faces. "Bill's told you of the meeting of the Order that Dumbledore called? And the Charm of Remembrance? Good. Well, your mother and I had the same experience. We were there, and we listened to what Dumbledore had to say. It was hard to hear, hard to plan for defeat. But I have to confess that there was a part of me that was relieved, deep down. Relieved to hear that something was being planned, something was being done, just in case the worst were to come to pass. I couldn't help thinking that, if anything were to happen to me... there would be someone, something, to take care of my family. I think most of the Order felt the same way. It's the hardest thing about war, you know. Risking yourself, that's easy. Risking the people you love as a result? That's a choice that's very difficult to live with."

Ron's eyes stung; he saw his Mum wipe away a stray tear. Hermione squeezed his hand, lacing their fingers together tightly.

"We were all given assignments. Bill's, for example, was to take care of you, while Charlie's was to supply the safehouses. The Aurors had the job of setting charms and curses and spells along the routes you've all traveled over the past few months, to keep you safe. And ours, your mother's and mine, it seems, was to come here, to Liath Cuan, and to prepare this island, this castle, for all of us... as our new home."

Home... Ron's mind was whirling. Could it really be true that they had a home again? A place they could be truly safe, and together?

"Mr. Weasley?" Hermione said hesitantly.

"Yes, dear?"

"I don't mean to ask too many questions--"

"I'm sure you both have hundreds of questions," his dad said with a kind smile. "And there are hundreds of answers, things we have to tell you -- things for you to tell us, as well, after all. We'll never get through everything tonight, but I want to tell you anything you need to know to put your mind at ease."

Hermione smiled gratefully. "I just want to know... are we really, really safe here now? What if someone else uses the Arcesso spell to get onto the island? Are there wards, or something like that? Can't they be broken?"

"No, dear," Ron's mum answered her in a firm, confidant voice. "They aren't wards. But for anyone trying to come to the island, just casting Arcesso isn't enough. Mr. Weasley or I have to cast the other half of the spell as well. If that doesn't happen, it's useless."

"It's a Bringing Spell," Bill explained further. "Mum and Dad have the power to bring someone onto the island, while that person is casting their half of the spell as well."

Ron still felt worried. "What if someone just, you know, swims up to shore?"

Bill shook his head. "The island is Unplottable. They could swim straight at it, or ride in a boat, and they'd be diverted around, every time."

"What if someone... tricked you?" Hermione asked. "With Polyjuice Potion or something like that?"

"It wouldn't work," Ron's father said reassuringly. "I had the same concerns, and I don't really understand all of the underlying principles as to why not, but Dumbledore assured me that attempts at foolery would have no impact whatsoever."

"I can try to explain it to them a bit, if you don't mind, Dad," Bill said.

Something had been bothering Ron for some time. He interrupted, "When did you learn about all this?" he asked his eldest brother suspiciously.

"There were letters waiting for me on the train, remember?"

"Just now?"

"No, back on our way to the safehouse. With our supplies, in the compartment." Bill looked a bit perturbed at Ron's anger. "I told you as much as I could, Ron. I tried to reassure you, but I wasn't at liberty to give you any real information, not then."

Ron scowled, "Why not?"

Charlie cut in, exasperated. "Ron, just let him explain the spell before you fly off the handle, okay?"

"I think I've got a right to fly off the handle if I want to!" Ron shot back. "None of this makes any sense!"

"Just listen!" Charlie roared back. "And then if it still doesn't make sense to that dull brain of yours, get your girlfriend to explain it to you, alright?"

"That's enough, Charles," their mother said, her eyes flashing fire. "Ronald and Hermione and Bill have been through a horrible ordeal, and Ron's allowed to feel angry and confused."

Charlie looked sullen. "Fine."

Mum smiled. "You reacted just the same way when we brought you to Liath Cuan for the first time, but you've forgotten that now." She reached over to cup Charlie's cheek. He resisted at first, then sighed and looked chagrined. "It's alright, Charlie. You've always had a short memory and a big heart."

Ron watched them together and something inside of him shifted. The tension and the worry were still there, but he realized now that he wasn't alone. Charlie, his mum and dad, Bill -- they all felt it. They were all struggling. They were caught up in a sweeping tide of events and dealing with the same emotions he was. One minute there was terror and the next joy, then confusion and then relief, and who knew what would come next. It was too much to handle, too much to take in. He wanted suddenly, desperately, to be alone with Hermione, in the bed they shared, in the middle of the night with their arms around each other. He needed it to be just the two of them; he needed to be able to hear her soft voice in the dark and to talk to her about everything that had happened. And he needed to sleep, sleep for hours until it was day again, and the long black night that had begun when he first saw her lying there in the alley... he needed it to end.

Bill started explaining again, in a calm, quiet voice. "Mum and Dad have performed a series of special spells -- a ritual, really. It ties them to the magic of the island. Because of that, they can perform the spell that brings us here. We cast Arcesso, and that completes the spell." He paused, looking thoughtful. "If I remember the notes correctly, though, there was some indication that Arcesso isn't necessary."

"It facilitates the spell," their father agreed, "but it's possible to bring someone on the island without it, if for some reason they were incapable of performing the spell. Your mother and I have to be working in tandem, in that instance, to have enough power."

Hermione was looking distracted. "You performed a ritual? What if someone else did the same? What if Voldemort or his followers found out about it--"

Ron's father was shaking his head. "It can't happen. And even if they found out about it," he continued kindly, "it wouldn't matter. This spell was something only Mrs. Weasley and I could perform." He paused and smiled sadly. "There's much more to that part of the story, and I promise I'll tell it all to you tomorrow. For now, let me state that we owe more than I can ever express to Albus Dumbledore. We'll never see another man like him, nor a wizard as great."

In the silence that followed his father's words, Ron found himself remembering his old headmaster not with reverence and awe (though he surely deserved them both) but with admiration and fondness. Dumbledore had been a heck of a bloke, that was for sure, with a wicked sense of humor; albeit, he'd been a bit strange at times. Ron smiled and considered himself lucky, not for the first time, to have gone to Hogwarts while someone like Dumbledore was in charge.

"You were asking about Polyjuice Potion, or someone using some other form of trickery to get Mum or Dad to perform the Bringing Spell," Bill said, bring Ron out of his reverie. "Dad, what's the established procedure?"

"Anyone wishing to enter the island must send their Patronus with a message. Once received, your mother or I begin the spell for that person's passage, while they cast Arcesso at the same time. They're brought to the lower cavern, as you were, checked out, and then brought upstairs."

Hermione frowned, and Ron knew just what she was going to say. "Mr. Weasley, couldn't the person be an imposter? The way Barty Crouch fooled everyone into thinking he was Alastor Moody? There's no real way to tell a person who's taken Polyjuice apart from the real person. After all, even Professor Dumbledore was deceived."

Ron knew Hermione was also thinking of another time several people had been completely fooled by Polyjuice Potion, but it probably still wasn't the right time to tell his parents about that particular adventure.

Surprisingly it was Charlie who answered her, and in a much kinder tone than he'd taken earlier. "That's true. But Polyjuice, or a clever glamour, can't trick the Bringing Spell. That's the beauty of old magic like this; it isn't about appearances or surfaces. It's about what's deep within." He leaned forward and gave Hermione a steady, compassionate look. "I don't blame you for being worried. I promise you, we've tested it out, using glamours and potions ourselves, then trying to trick the spell. It didn't work."

"Penelope did exhaustive research on every known shape-changing potion," Percy agreed. "None of them had any effect."

Ron gaped at his brother. "Penelope?! Penelope Clearwater? Your old girlfriend?"

Percy smiled. "Yes, she's here. But she's not my girlfriend anymore, she's my wife."

Shocked, Ron looked around first at Hermione and then at Bill and Charlie. "Did you know about this?" he asked.

Bill shook his head; he looked surprised as well. Charlie, however, was grinning. "Yeah, I did, but I promised I'd let Perce tell you himself."

Percy was grinning, too, and Ron noticed something he should have earlier: he'd never really seen Percy grin before. A polite smile, a laugh every now and then, sure. But the full-out, joyful grin... that wide Weasley smile they all shared... he'd never really seen it on Percy, not that he could remember.

"Penelope was with me when I met Mum for tea that day," Percy was saying.

"Thank goodness you were together," Hermione said.

Percy blushed. "Well, we had some news to tell," he said.

"About getting engaged?" Bill asked.

"Not exactly," Percy replied, and Ron noticed his brother's ears had turned beet-red. "We'd eloped, see."

Ron was surprised. Not that Percy had gotten married, exactly, but that Molly Weasley was sitting there having been robbed of the chance to be at her own son's wedding, and was smiling. Mum's gone soft, he thought. Hrmph. Good to know.

Hermione stood and gave Percy a warm hug. "Congratulations," she said. "To both of you. It'll be lovely to see Penny again."

"She wanted to be here to welcome you all home, but she couldn't keep her eyes open," Percy said. "I know she's looking forward to spending time with you as well."

Bill came forward and gave Percy a backslapping hug. Ron followed, feeling strangely happy at the changes that had come over Percy. They'd never been close, before, but maybe now that could change.

As he drew back, though, he startled them all by yawning loudly. "I'm sorry," he said sheepishly.

His father laughed. "It's been a long day. There's plenty of time, tomorrow, to talk some more."

"That's right," his mother agreed. "Hermione, Madame Pomfrey has an infirmary set up down the hall. We're going to swing by there and let her have a look at you."

"I'm really fine, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione protested.

Ron took her hand. "It won't hurt anything just to let her check."

Hermione was clearly about to protest further, but her expression softened when she saw the worried look in his eyes. She knew what he was trying to say: that he needed to be sure that she was well, and safe, before he could truly relax. That he needed her to do this for him, if for no other reason.

"Okay," she agreed, and he slipped his arm around her shoulders in a grateful embrace.

His mum smiled. "Good. It won't take long, dear. Ron and I will go with you, and then I can show you each to your rooms. The castle's rather large and it's easy to get lost if you don't know your way around. Arthur, you'll help Bill get settled in?"

"Of course. I'll see you in the morning, son. Hermione, get some rest. There's a lot to talk about tomorrow," his father said with a teasing twinkle in his eye.

"Good night, Mr. Weasley," Hermione said.

While his mother was wishing Bill a good night, Ron tugged Hermione aside. "Did you hear her? Rooms."

"Yes, Ron, I heard," she whispered back. "Did you really think she was going to tuck us into bed together?"

Ron flushed. "Well, no, of course not. I didn't think of it at all." He felt a wave of anxiety. "But I can't -- I need to be with you," he said dejectedly, feeling ashamed at his own weakness.

But Hermione just smiled softly at him and, to his surprise, briefly stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the mouth. "Don't worry, Ron," she said. "We'll work something out."

"We will?"

"I don't plan on sleeping apart from you ever again, if I can help it," she said, lacing both of her hands with his. "I need you too, Ron. Don't ever forget that."