It was a normal day for the Weasleys—Molly, Arthur, Fred, George, Ron, Ginny, and Harry reclined in the living room with full tummies after having eaten a hearty feast following their family-wide Quidditch game and a lot of well-needed showers.

"Up for a game of wizards chess, Ron?" Harry asked, knowing what the answer would be.

"Sure," said Ron as he stood up and crossed the room to get the board and pieces. However, just as he crossed in front of the fireplace, green flames flared up, causing him to stop and everyone to look curiously to see who would be travelling via the floo network to their house at 8:00 at night.

The green smoke began to clear, revealing the silhouette of a woman. A short, skinny woman with a big mass of messy curls on her head. And soon enough the smoke was gone, revealing a mess of a girl with tears pouring down her face, ripped jeans covered in dark red stains, and crimson hands dripping with blood.

"Hermione?" Ron's voice shook as he addressed the woman before she collapsed into his arms.

-0o-

Ron scooped Hermione up and looked wildly around the room for a place to lay the poor girl so they could take care of her. The twins quickly stood from their places on the sofa and allowed him to lay her down. He did so gently, brushing hair from her closed eyes.

The Weasleys—which included Harry, because he basically was one of them—bent over the unconscious girl confusedly, trying to decipher what was wrong, and what they needed to do first.

"We should clean her up," Ginny said, and Harry hurried to the bathroom to fetch some washcloths.

"There's blood everywhere, but where are the cuts?" George wondered aloud.

"On her legs," Fred pointed to a hole in the left knee of her jeans, through which a scarlet gash could be seen, sparkling horribly in the overhead light.

"And her hands," Harry said, returning with a bucket of water that had some washcloths floating in it.

Ron, who hadn't said a word the whole time, finally managed to tear his eyes away from the pale girl lying on the couch long enough to look down at the bucket and grab a washcloth. None of the other Weasleys reached for one, because they knew Ron would want to be the one to do this. They watched as he took one of her small hands in his and put the washcloth to it, gently washing off the blood without being too harsh on the cuts that ran all the way up to her wrist. After he was finished with the first hand, he set it down on her stomach and began working on the second hand.

Soon enough, it was time for Hermione's legs to be cleaned of the blood. However, even given the circumstances there was no way that Molly and Arthur were going to let Ron take off the girl's pants. Instead, they sent the kids to the kitchen while Molly and Ginny cleaned Hermione up and Arthur called Hermione's parents.

-0o-

Everyone in the kitchen took note of (and had been taking note of) Ron and how silent he was being. Ron was always the one to panic, and they were no fools—they knew what Hermione meant to him—so why wasn't he flipping out? In fact, why wasn't he flipping out MORE than usual!? They all exchanged looks of confusion and worry as Ron laid his head down on the kitchen table and continued on in his silence.

"Ron?" Harry asked. "Ron, are you okay?"

No answer.

"Ron?" Fred asked. "It's not that bad. I'm sure she'll be okay."

Finally, Ron answered. "Of course it's not that bad, but why is it bad at all? What happened? Why is she all cut up and unconscious and—"

Mr. Weasley walked into the room, interrupting Ron midsentence. "There's no answer at her house."

Everyone just stared at him. "What do we do, then?" George inquired.

"Shall we floo to her house?" Harry asked.

"Absolutely not!" Mr. Weasley looked appalled.

"Why not? I, for one, would like to know what's going on!" Ron said angrily.

"Because! A girl shows up here all cut up and bloody in a state like that, and you suggest that we go back to the place where all of this happened to her? What if whoever—or whatever—did this to her is still there?"

"Well, we've just got to take the chance if we really want to figure out what happened!"

"Fine, Ron. If you want to go there, be my guest. But, you must know, you'll be alone. And if Hermione couldn't handle it… Well, not to be rude, son, but if Hermione couldn't handle whatever is there, I highly doubt that you can…"

At that point, Ginny came into the room. "She's all cleaned up. Oh, and Ron. Mom said you are not going to Hermione's house alone. And she won't let anyone else go either. So, all in all, you can't go."

Ron sighed in frustration, but didn't argue. Instead, he walked straight past Ginny and into the living room to see Hermione.

"I've bandaged up most of the cuts on her legs," Molly informed Ron as he entered the room. She was currently wrapping Hermione's hand in gauze. "I don't want to try using magic to fix her up yet. She's not in good enough condition, yet."

"When will she—"

"I don't think it was magic that caused these cuts," Molly states, cutting off her son's question.

"Well then, what is it? What did this to her? And why?" Ron pleaded.

"I've pulled some bits of glass out of her legs and hands. It looks as though she's been kneeling in shattered glass. Even bits of porcelain."

"Why would she…?"

"I don't know. That's merely one of the questions that will have to wait until she wakes up."

"Oh yeah, I meant to ask: When do you think she will wake up?" Ron asked his mom.

"Well, currently it's 8:45. I do believe she will be awake early tomorrow morning, if not before then. I think she may have passed out from shock."

"Shock?" the twins repeated as they entered the room.

"So many questions, so little answers," Mr. Weasley added as he walked in behind them.

Suddenly, Hermione made a sort of grunting noise. Actually, less of a grunt, more of a high-pitched whine. Almost as though she was crying.

And then a single tear fell down her cheek.

The Weasleys stared at her, hoping for something, some sign that might indicate what had happened or why it had happened.

"Mum, dad!" Hermione cried out in her sleep.

The Weasleys exchanged worried glances as Hermione began screaming for her parents, still completely out of it.

And suddenly, without warning, Hermione gasped, her back arched up off the couch, and her eyelids flew open.

"Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, kneeling down next to her. "Are you OK? What happened? Why—"

"Ron," Mr. Weasley said, gently putting a hand on his son's shoulder. "Give her some time to come to herself and remember what happened. Then we can—"

"I remember what happened," Hermione whispered. The rasp in her voice told them that she'd been screaming before she'd come to their home, as well. She'd screamed her voice raw.

Harry knelt down beside Ron and spoke quietly to Hermione, "You don't need to say anything yet. Not if you don't want to."

Hermione shook her head, "No," her voice was quiet, still raw, "I need to find them."

"Who? Your parents?" Fred asked.

"And the men."

"What men?" George asked.

"The men who took my parents," Hermione offered, and then she passed out.