Chapter One: How Could This Happen?

A very frustrated Hermione grumbled as she wadded another piece of parchment and tossed it into her trash bin. The crumbled paper landed on top of the large pile that had accumulated in the bin before rolling down and hitting the floor.

It was impossible to focus on her summer assignment, because her mind was trying to focus on something else - Ron. He had been on her mind ever since she had stormed out of his room a few days earlier. She quickly assured herself that it was her right to have argued with him, but it still bothered her.

Ron had given her the worst news that she could imagine--he was going on a date, with someone other than her. It was a blind date; Fred and George had arranged it for him. And the thought of Ron with another girl caused her insides to quiver.

"He knows I fancy him, doesn't he?" she asked herself, knowing she had been far too obvious the other day. Now though, she was confused as to why he would go along with it, especially when he didn't even know the girl he was going to be going out with. What was the point in that? Hermione had no idea. It worried her. What if this girl had turned out to be prettier than Hermione was? What if he had enjoyed being with her more? Hermione did not want to find out.

With a loud sigh, she tossed her notebook to the floor and flopped backwards onto her bed. What was she going to do? Hermione remembered how she and her two best friends had bought telephones after she had lectured them about how it would be much easier to communicate using phones instead of sending letters to one another. Ron called her nearly every day, continually amazed at the invention. But he hadn't called her since his date, which meant that he was probably still angry with her. She feared that he was staring at the Muggle phone right now, snickering to himself and thinking, Ha! There you go Hermione. Just sit there while I plan my second date with her. Her body shook at the mere idea.

Suddenly, she heard a light knocking sound, and she turned her head to find her other best friend standing in her doorway. "Harry?" She lifted herself off the bed, turning to face him.

"Sorry I didn't call," he said, and she quickly shook her head.

"Its fine." She watched as he stood at the doorway, his eyes downcast. When she invited him inside her room, he simply took a few steps in. "Harry, is everything alright?" Hermione asked, although she already knew that something was wrong.

"No, actually," he admitted, and she watched as he finally lifted his eyes to hers, "I... I have something to tell you," he paused for a moment, and then continued, "You'd better sit down."

She stared at him worriedly, and her thoughts immediately returned to Ron. What if this was about him? No. She lowered her body to her bed once again, trying to rid herself of that idea.

"Ron's gone missing," he said softly.

The color drained from her face, leaving her as white as the sheets beneath her. "What?" she asked, her voice threatening to crack at any moment.

Harry's eyes closed for a long moment, and when he opened them again, he continued. "He didn't come back from that date he went on the other night. The Weasleys and I've been searching everywhere..." he shook his head, "everywhere logical."

"He didn't... l-leave a note?... O-or call?" Where had Ron gone? What had happened? Why was this happening? She wanted all of her questions answered, but unfortunately she wasn't going to have any of them answered any time soon.

"No," he said. "This was all that we found," Harry slid his hand into his pocket, and he pulled out something that caused Hermione to clasp her hand over her mouth in disbelief. There, in Harry's hand, was the familiar sleek wood of Ron's wand. She knew it was his because she had looked at the pale wood so many times before.

She reached out with her other hand to gently take it from Harry. Ron. In the back of her mind, she could hear Harry say something about Ginny locating it near a nightclub in downtown London, but she was barely listening. She was staring down at the pale wood in her hand, trying desperately not to let the tears come into her eyes.

Where are you Ron?