The clock on the bed side table read 3:51 am, when Molly Weasley was awoken from her peaceful dreams by a loud familiar crack coming from her outside gardens. She was startled and woke her husband, Arthur. They quickly got up and put their night robes on and dashed out their bedroom door. Molly, not wanting the strange noise to wake her children swiftly put a silencing charm on the house. With their wands at the ready they went to the front of the burrow to find to source that woke them from their dreams. They searched the walk path and searched the fence line, but to find nothing. After a few minutes of frantic searching they heard another sound, one that scared Mrs. Weasley more than the thought of a Death Eater coming to their home, the sound of a young girl crying.
Mr. Weasley had seen something in the back of the house in the middle of the makeshift quidditch pitch he had built his children many years ago. It was a black ball in his eyes, but as he walked closer to the thing he began to recognize distinguishing features. A bushy head of hair, short thin body, her wand strewn haphazardly across the lawn, blood drops leading to her. His pace began to quicken and he called for Molly. When he reached the poor girl, his head swam when he got his first good look at what had terrorized him and his wife.
"Hermione?" he reached over slowly to move the hair hiding her face. What he had uncovered was terrifying him, blood seeping from gashes on her face, a bruise swelling her left eye closed, her hair matted and wet, his hand magically turned red after removing his hand from her hair. "Oh Arthur," Mrs. Weasley came to her husbands side and pulling him out of his trance, "Pick her up, let's get her inside quick." As tenderly as he could Mr. Weasley picked Hermione up in his arms and turned on the spot heading for the back door. Mrs. Weasley guided them to the door with one hand on Arthur's back and the other stroking Hermione's hair out of her face. Arthur wanted to run, he wanted to get her in the house as fast as he could, but did not want to hurt her further by running, he was panicking, Arthur Weasley, father of 7 Children, ( 6 of them being boys, mind you, not to mention 2 of them being Fred and George Weasley) was panicking. He just kept telling himself "Get her in the house, get her in the house."
With the flick of Mrs. Weasley's wand the door was blown open by a slight breeze. As Arthur took Hermione's crumpled form to their bedroom, Molly went to the kitchen to fetch water and medical necessities. When Mrs. Weasley returned to her husband he was sitting on the bed next to the girl, holding her hand, tears falling. Arthur had lit the fire and they could now see her, her in full. In the field all they saw was her face, the trademarks of some beating but now they could see…. Torn clothes, hanging on her body by a few strands, blood seeping from her arms her legs her back, her head, the bruises covering her, the knife wound on her throat. She now saw what brought her husband to tears, for she now had tears streaking freely down her face. She dipped the rag in the warm water and began to wipe the blood off her face. "maybe my real Hermione is under all this blood. I need to find her, this is a nightmare cause this could never happen to our Hermione." Mrs. Weasley thought as she lovingly stoked her face with the cloth. "Arthur," she said in a shaky voice, "We will need some clothes from Ginny's room and some fresh towels, will you please go get them for me?" Mr. Weasley gingerly bent down and hissed Hermione's hand, a tear slid down off his face and down her arm. "Yes dear," He replied so quietly his wife almost didn't hear him. While her husband was gone she took the 16 year old girls clothes off and continued to wash off the blood, her husband had brought back a oversized gray sweater and maroon sweat pants from Ron's room. "I thought she would feel more comfortable with baggy clothes and Ron's smell." Mr. Weasley said as he broke down in his wife's arms. For the next several hours, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat in silence holding each other and watching over the beautiful girl lying unconscious in their bed not knowing what was wrong or what had happened.