A/N: I'm sad I'm not getting any reviewers, but then this story is being written for me; at least, until I get some followers :). BTW I'm not trying to make Willow into a friggin MarySue, because she is anything but. She's a moody, bitter, stuborn, very troubled teen who thinks that her way is always best. Her powers come to her (well, obviously: if you have no idea what I'm talking about, kindly refer to chapter 1), but all of them are a disadvantage and don't really help her or anyone else in the slightest bit. I'm also not trying to create a big, fluffy, love story, because for the most part, she is terrified by people. She doesn't trust anyone and thinks everyone is out to get her (paranoid, a bit?), and is terrified that someone might touch her again. So, she is a smart, but very paranoid and kind of weak character having NOTHING to do with the downfall of Voldemort. So uh... now that I've gotten this all out before I get people yelling at me with bad reviews (which I honestly don't know if I'd mind... any review would be nice right now tear), I'd like to say that the next chapter is going to be fairly short (sorry, it just is) and... on with the show!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters, nor the songs "Penny Lane" by the Beatles, "Here Comes The Sun" by the Beatles, or "The Remedy" by Jason Mraz. Only Scottsdale (its place of existance and set up), Willow, Moira, Ren, the people of Scottsdale, Devin Daelin, and her secret spot and all of that ish are mine. Sadly. I wish I owned HP mourns. Oh well, I'm still kinda glad J.K.R. does, because knowing me, I'd screw it up somehow :).

Chapter 3: A Way Out

Standing up shakily, I surveyed my surroundings. The sky was filled with clouds and it was pouring down rain in sheets. I grabbed my guitars and bag and ran into the nearest shop, slamming the door behind me. I breathed hard, wondering where the hell I was, when I noticed how everyone was staring at me. I was in a pub, a small, dingy, sort of dirty little pub. The people seemed friendly enough though, but I didn't trust them, not one bit. Someone clapped a hand on my shoulder. I flinched and withdrew myself from their touch, squeaking in terror.

"I'm sorry to frighten you, young miss, but I was just wondering what you'd be needing here at the Leaky Cauldron?" I shook my head and smacked my ears a few times.

"Excuse me, what'd you say?" I asked, confused. The man smiled.

"What can I do for you here at the Leaky Cauldron?" He asked again. The man was British.

"Where... where am I?" I asked squeakily.

"The Leaky Cauldron, in London." I stared. "England." He raised an eyebrow at me. "Are you alright, young miss?" He gave me a concerned stare as my eyes went wide and my body went rigid. The man leaned forward to touch me when I ran behind a chair and hid.

"Don't touch me!" I cried. He walked around the table and held out a hand to me.

"I'm not going to hurt you, young miss." When I didn't take his hand, he sighed. "Here, head on up to room 17. You can stay for the night; you look like you need a place to stay." Though extremely grateful, I was still highly nervous around this man. I was nervous around anyone staring at me. They were thinking about me... I knew they were; they had to have been! I flinched and breathed in sharply. I grabbed my bags and clambered up the stairs to room 17.

It was a grubby, dingy little room with mismatched furniture, a small bed with only one thin cover, and a dusty mirror. A small desk sat in the corner, and I threw my bag on it while setting my guitars down. I threw myself onto the bed and cried. I don't remember stopping crying, just that I had fallen asleep with the tears still streaming down my dirty face.

The next morning, I awoke to the sound of someone banging on my door. "Housekeeping!" The woman shouted. I groaned and yelled for them to come back later. She sighed and walked on. I skipped the shower (though I was in terrible need of one) and just brushed my hair instead. I stayed in the same clothes as the night before and, after switching my guitars and their cases, brought my acoustic guitar out in front of the pub, the Leaky Cauldron, leaving the hard case open. The only way I was going to get home, or just to get food, would be to earn it. And since I didn't really have any special skills besides playing the guitar, I figured that being a street player might do me some good.

I started with something fun that would cheer me up. I strapped the strap on the guitar and around my body and began playing something sure to brighten up people's day. I decided to play "The Remedy" by Jason Mraz, and I got plenty of attention from that. A nice large crowd was gathering, tossing money into my guitar case, and dancing a little bit. I just let it all out and had fun with it—after all, that's the point of the song, right?

"Well I saw fireworks from the freeway

And behind closed eyes I cannot make them go away

'Cause you were born on the 4th of July, freedom ring

Well something on the surface, it stings.

I said something on the surface, well it kind of makes me nervous.

To say that you deserve this and

What kind of God would serve this

We will cure this dirty old disease

Well, if you gots the poison, I gots the remedy.

The Remedy is the experience

This is a dangerous liaison.

I says the comedy is that it's serious.

This is a strange enough new play on words.

I say the tragedy is how you're gonna spend

The rest of your nights with the light on

So shine the light on all of your friends.

When it all amounts to nothing in the end.

I - I won't worry my life away (hey, oh-oh)

I - I won't worry my life away (hey, oh-oh)

Well I heard two men talking on the radio,

In a cross-fire kind of new reality show.

Uncovering the ways to plan the next a-big attack

Well they were counting down the ways to stab the brother in the...

Be right back after this: The unavoidable kiss

With a minty-fresh death breath is sure to outlast this catastrophe

Dance with me

'Cause if you gots the poison, I gots the remedy.

The Remedy is the experience

This is a dangerous liaison

I says the comedy is that it's serious

This is a strange enough new play on words

I say the tragedy is how you're gonna spend

The rest of your nights with the light on

So shine the light on all of your friends.

When it all amounts to nothing in the end.

I - I won't worry my life away (hey, oh-oh)

I - I won't worry my life away (hey, oh-oh)

When I fall in love,

I take my time

There's no need to hurry when I'm making up my mind

You can turn off the sun

But I'm still gonna shine

And I'll tell you why

'Cause the Remedy is the experience

This is a dangerous liaison.

I says the comedy is that its serious.

This is a strange enough new play on words.

I say the tragedy is how you're gonna spend

The rest of your nights with the light on

So shine the light on all of your friends.

When it all amounts to nothing in the end.

I – I won't worry my life away (hey, oh-oh)

I – I won't worry my life away (hey, oh-oh)"

As I finished, the crowd clapped. I bowed, ecstatically, and played another fun one, a Britain-friendly song; "Penny Lane" by The Beatles. They laughed and sang along, someone doing an impression of the trumpet.

"In Penny Lane there is a barber showing photographs

Of every head he's had the pleasure to have known.

And all the people that come and go

Stop and say hello.

On the corner is a banker with a motorcar,

And little children laugh at him behind his back.

And the banker never wears a Mac

In the pouring rain; very strange.

Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes.

There beneath the blue suburban skies

I sit, and meanwhile back

In penny Lane there is a fireman with an hourglass

And in his pocket is a portrait of the Queen.

He likes to keep his fire engine clean,

It's a clean machine.

Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes.

A four of fish and finger pies

In summer, meanwhile back

Behind the shelter in the middle of the roundabout

The pretty nurse is selling poppies from a tray

And though she feels as if she's in a play

She is anyway.

In Penny Lane the barber shaves another customer,

We see the banker sitting waiting for a trim.

And then the fireman rushes in

From the pouring rain; very strange.

Penny lane is in my ears and in my eyes.

There beneath the blue suburban skies

I sit, and meanwhile back.

Penny lane is in my ears and in my eyes.

There beneath the blue suburban skies,

Penny Lane!"

The crowd clapped again, and I laughed as they tossed in money. "What do you guys want to hear next?" I yelled.

"Here Comes the Sun!" A man yelled out, somewhere in the back. I obliged and broke into song. Everyone was grinning and laughing. As the morning wore on, the crowd thinned, leaving me alone after a few hours. That was good; I needed some water. I looked into my case and counted the money: 37 pounds exactly. I walked back into the Leaky Cauldron and asked the bartender if he could give me a glass of water. He obliged and I drank it down greedily. All of that singing and playing had left me quite exhausted, and my throat was really tired.

"What's the day?" I asked him.

"Why, it's Halloween, miss! I'd be expecting every youngster to know that..."

"Oh... I..." I stopped and looked down. "Do you know why or how I got here?" The bartender looked at me, carefully weighing his thoughts before he spoke.

"If you're really looking for answers, you might want to try Kings Cross Station." The bartender said.

"What do you mean?" I asked, confused.

"Trust me, go there, and you'll find your answers, one way or another." I nodded and thanked him. After stuffing my pockets with my money and grabbing my bag and guitars, I headed towards a bus stop, hoping to get to Kings Cross Station. I sat there on the bench, waiting. I had to get some answers. I had to get them soon; I knew that if I waited any longer, I'd burst.

The screech of a bus stopping woke me out of my 10-second daydream, and I stood up as the bus driver opened the door.

"Where are you headed to, missy?" He asked. I smiled; I loved all of these English accents.

"Kings Cross Station." I said stoutly. He laughed.

"Next bus'll take you there; we're headed the opposite way." He closed the door and sped away leaving me sitting there, very annoyed. I became immersed in my own thoughts once more.

How the hell had I gotten here? Was this all just a dream? I certainly hope that that man was a dream, I thought, shivering. I could feel his hands all over me, touching me, befouling me. My skin was so dirtied... I hoped it was just a dream. No, that was a nightmare, and one of the worst kind of nightmares I had ever experienced. Even worse than when daddy had—

Another loud screech jolted me out of the blackness of my thoughts. The door to the bus opened with a small squeak of the rusty hinges, and the bus driver looked down at me. He looked like he was getting on in his years with big bushy white eyebrows, a wrinkled face, and a small potbelly. But the kind look in his eyes eased my wariness and I relaxed, a little.

"Where are you headed, Miss?" He asked.

"Kings Cross Station, sir." The bus driver nodded at me.

"Climb on, that's our next stop." I grinned enthusiastically and climbed on, my hard guitar case smacking the side of the bus. I smiled sheepishly at him, slipped my money in the slot, and took a seat near the front of the bus. With a dull roar, the bus lurched forward and we sped off. "Why are you headed to the station, miss? If you don't mind my asking."

"I... I'm looking for some answers." I stared out of a window at the buildings passing by.

"Ah, an American?" I nodded and he laughed. "What brings you up here?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean 'you don't know'?" He looked at me, his eyes hidden beneath his furrowed bushy eyebrows.

"I don't even know how I got here. I... I'm completely lost." My eyes misted over a little and I sniffed pitifully.

"You'll find your way back home one day, don't even worry about it. Have you tried calling your folks?" I frowned and sunk a little deeper into my seat.

"They don't have a phone, and no one in my town would help me, or even care." I sat thoughtfully. "I don't want to home, anyways." The bus driver stared at me from his mirror. "Sometimes things happen, and the last thing you need is to be home."

"Everyone has to face the music some time, kid." He said quietly, but sympathetically. "No matter what you did, your mum will always forgive you." I shook my head, forcing tears back.

"No, not for this, she won't. She could never forgive me for what happened." I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the cold window. As I breathed, the window fogged a little, and then faded. It made me smile, and I stared at the funny shapes it would make once the fog reached my nose. From there, it would just form around the side of my face that was touching the window, and when I pulled away, it would slowly disappear. I saw the fog slowly collect together and form large droplets that slowly slid down the surface of the window, down to the metal pane. I jumped when the driver spoke again.

"What exactly are you looking for?"

"A way out." I whispered. "An escape."

"A way out of what?"

"Reality."

The bus lurched when it stopped, and I almost fell off of my seat. I looked around and saw the large train station before me.

"Kings Cross Station," The bus driver said. "Goodbye, miss." I nodded at him. "I hope you find what you're looking for."

"Thank you," I grabbed my bag and guitars and jumped off of the bus. I didn't look back once. This... this wandering, this constant search for answers... This was my life now. And for some reason, the thought of living such a lonely life didn't scare me. The thought of living a nomadic life didn't bother me. Never having a place to go home to, never having anyone to hold onto. But I didn't need either. My entire life, I'd never really had someone to hold onto. My mother loved me, but seemed more wrapped up in her spouses to take good care of me. The only time I really felt her loving me was when she taught me guitar, but I'm still not sure if the passion was for the guitar or just passing it on to me. I shook my head. Thoughts like those, self-pitying thoughts, were never good to dwell on. They cause bitterness and hate. And then I wondered if that was all that my life was; bitterness. Am I really that bitter?

A sharp, distinctly familiar and strong smell hit me. I froze. Looking around slowly, I tried to match the smell with a face. Unfortunately, the station was crowded with people, and it was difficult to even keep hold of the smell with all of the people bumping into me as they ran to their platform. Suddenly, I saw the source of the smell. A thin, very ragged looking man was walking away from me when he stopped and swerved around. His clothes were very tattered and torn and was that a... a cloak? His body went rigid, as did mine. Beast. My lip went back in a snarl and I felt something stir, deep within me. He walked forward quickly, cloak swaying. I set down my guitars and bag and walked forward, slightly hunched, my eyes dark. We circled each other slowly, and then I shook my head, almost breaking whatever trance I was in.

"Who are you?" He asked, warily. He looked my rugged, dirty, ratty appearance up and down and then stared at me cautiously.

"Why should I tell you?" I growled. He looked at me sternly. I calmed considerably, and almost felt ashamed, like a pup back-talking its elder. His slightly gray streaked sandy blonde hair whipped around a little in the wind. "Willow En Daelin." I said quietly, hanging my head. He cupped my chin in his hand, attempting to get a look at me when I flinched and backed away. The man stared at me, confused.

"You shouldn't be here yet, you should be safe." I stared at him. "How did you get here?" My eyes were wide and I shook my head, scared. "Speak!" He barked at me. I quivered and looked at him, abashed.

"I-I don't know. I was just running home from school and I--" I paused. "If they hadn't have teased me, I wouldn't have--" I stared at him, mortified. Paranoia hit me in a wave, and it felt like he knew, that everyone knew. The way he was staring at me, judging me, I had to stop him. He had to know I had tried to stop it. "I tried to get away, but he wouldn't let me go!" I covered my mouth, horrified, and backed away slowly. I tripped over my own guitars and landed on the ground with a solid thud. The man walked closer to me and I felt a tear slide down my dirty face. He knelt down and wiped it away with his thumb. Suddenly, I burst into tears, holding my face in my hands. "It was the tuna can!" I wailed. "They tried to follow me and it was the tuna can!" I felt a hand stroke my hair, and I looked up, gasping. I backed away, squeaking like a broken toy, or like a whining animal.

"It was the tuna can?" The man asked.

"Yes!" I cried, loudly. "It was the tuna can! It made me come here, and I don't even know where I am!" People around were staring at me. "And I landed at some place called the 'Leaky Cauldron', and Cauldrons are only used by--" He clamped a hand over my mouth.

"Hush, not here!" He pulled a stick and a watch out of his pocket. "Dumbledore will know what to do..."

"What?"

"You're leaving." He was about to tap the watch when I stopped him.

"What about my stuff?" I asked, worried about my guitars, especially.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure they get back to you." He patted my hand reassuringly. I pulled it back in an instant, and flashes of Bill ran through my brain, gripping my wrist, pulling at my hair, making noises... The man snapped his finger, and my mind jolted to the present. "Tell Dumbledore I sent you."

"Who?"

"Dumbledore." He looked at me desperately, and looked around at the passerby. He was twitching slightly, suddenly breathing hard as though he'd just run a marathon. He was in a panic. "You have to get out of here!"

"Who are you?"

"Remus Lupin, but--"

"What's going on?" I asked, his panic catching.

"Take this," He shoved the watch into my hand. "Portus." He muttered, and then counted quietly to himself. "3, 2, 1..." I felt the same familiar jerk from somewhere behind my navel, and I was pulled forward into a rush of howling wind and color...

And then I felt someone, or something, rip me backwards, and I fell to the earth with a solid thud. I dropped the watch the moment I fell, and I shook my head, confused and a bit sore.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" A cold voice simpered. I looked up confused, only to find myself surrounded by 8 or 9 people, all wearing dark, hooded robes; all with masks over their faces. I whimpered softly and looked around, terrified. They smelled of death and pain, of evil; but of death and pain that they had caused. I stood up slowly and tried to walk away, but they only closed in tightly, forming a great barrier.

"What do you want from me?" I asked softly. My inner rage, like a candle, was blown out and died. All that was left was terror, pure terror. A terror I had only known once before, once when I was very young. I kept my face empty, though. You must stay strong, I thought to myself. They laughed at me, and one of them stepped forward.

"Aw, baby doesn't want to play?" A woman's voice answered. I stared at her blankly. "You know, from what I've heard, babies do only two things with their voices."

"Yeah? And what's that?" I asked, slightly irritated.

"Babies," She began, taking another step forward, her boots crunching leaves on the ground. "Cry," She took another step forward, barely 5 feet away from me. My heart thumped faster, it beating so loud that I just knew they all could hear it. "But babies also scream." She laughed as I stared at her, a question in my eyes that I could not hide. "Which will you do, baby?" My stare had lost its blankness, as a sudden realization hit me.

"NO!" I screamed, trying to run away. The robed people grabbed me and threw me back in the circle. "NO!" I screamed again. They closed in around me. "LEAVE ME ALONE! NOT AGAIN!" I fell to the ground, arms covering my head. "DON'T TOUCH ME, PLEASE!" I curled into a small ball and began muttering to myself, whimpering softly. Laughter rang throughout the group, and it sent shivers up and down my spine.

"Don't worry, baby, we won't have to touch you for this..." I could almost hear her smile. "Crucio." She said loudly. Pain beyond anything I had ever known was upon me, beating me senseless. It was as though I were being stabbed with a thousand white-hot knives, screws were being drilled into my body, and hammers were driving rusty nails into my brain. I was screaming louder than I had ever screamed before. Nails were cutting at my face, and I clawed at myself, begging the pain to end, to stop, just so I could die. Then, it stopped. I lay on the ground, shuddering, gasping for air. "How was that, baby?" The woman asked again. "You're not crying, are you?" Against the protest of my aching body, I stood up and stared defiantly at the group.

"I refuse to cry in front of you." I said stoutly. More laughter, dark and cruel.

"A challenge?" The woman asked. My eyes opened wide and I began shaking my head quickly. "I know I heard a challenge." The woman said, and I could feel her grinning.

"No... please... have mercy!" I yelped. "HAVE MERCY!" I screamed as I fell again, pain searing every inch of me. It was so intense, so much more intense than that night at sunset—my bones were breaking, snapping, burning, boiling. My skin was set ablaze, no oxygen was reaching my lungs, my eyes were rolling loudly as the air was filled with my screams. It ended, and I found myself lying on the ground again, shaking and wincing. I touched my face and felt my own claw marks, blood dripping from them. I winced as I touched the scratches on my arms and hands. I groped around on the ground when I saw the watch, gleaming in the moonlight shadowed by the trees of the forest.

The wind changed.

The air changed.

Time changed.

A shudder ran through the group and whispers filled the air, all of them saying, "Master is here, the Dark Lord is here." A smell of hate filled the air, followed by fury, and pleasure. It was then that a high, cold voice spoke. I didn't dare look up.

"What did my Death Eaters catch?" He asked, silkily.

"A girl," A man said, just as smoothly.

"Muggle?" The cold voice asked. He now smelled of amusement.

"We're... not entirely sure." The woman said nervously. I raised my eyes and looked up from the ground. The... what did he call them? Death Eaters? Well, the Death Eaters were all facing the same way, and I flickered my eyes over there. In an instant, I wished I hadn't. A tall, pale man stood there, wrapped in his dark cloak. Red eyes glared at me, and his lipless smile was cold and cruel. I could smell the evil in this man; it was all over him, his past, present, and future. I was horrified and buried my head in my arms, curled up in the fetal position.

"It's only a child..." He said quietly.

"We caught her using a portkey, one headed for Hogwarts." Hogwarts? What the hell was that?

"Why were you going to Hogwarts, girl?" The cold voiced man asked. I whimpered in reply and started speaking gibberish. "Who are you?" I lifted my head slowly and stared him in the eyes.

"I... My name..." I could hardly think.

"Speak, girl!" One of the men barked. I looked up and stared at him. The cruel voiced man looked at him too.

"You dare speak out of turn?" He asked, cruelly.

"N-no, master, never!" He took a step back.

"You've become very daring lately, Karkaroff." He took one step forward. "First, you plead innocence with the Ministry and turn in several of our friends here, then you have the nerve to flee my calling? Now, you speak out of turn almost every chance you get?" The man smiled cruelly and raised a stick at him. "You've betrayed us once, you could do it again. You don't deserve to live, Karkaroff."

"P-please, master! Forgive me!"

"Silence!" The man said loudly, smiling with his lipless mouth. "You've been here for far too long. I do not forgive, I do not forget. Goodbye, Karkaroff." I stared in horror. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" He screamed. There was a blinding blast of green light and a rushing sound. Moments later, I opened my eyes to see the fallen body of Karkaroff, unmoving. He was laying spread eagled on the ground. He was dead. I gave a sob of horror and wept into my arms. A cold hand brushed my cheek, and cringing, I moved away. I looked up to see the man kneeling beside me.

"Poor child, don't even know who or what you are." He said, staring at me with a cold smile.

"I...I am Willow." I gulped and a fresh wave of tears streamed down my face.

"Such a pretty child," He mused to himself. "How old are you?"

"S-sixteen." I stuttered. He gave a short, bark of a laugh.

"Do you hear that, my Death Eaters? Sixteen!" They all laughed in unison. "Off to Hogwarts then, in the same year as Harry Potter! You must know him well, don't you dear?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." I said quickly, hoping he wouldn't come any closer. I trembled when he did. He touched my face again, and I shuddered in terror.

"American, are you?" I nodded. "Willow... Willow... The name is familiar... wait." He stopped, thinking. "Devin... Devin Daelin. Scottsdale?" He asked. I sat there, fear racking all of my thoughts. He grinned. "We've caught her, my Death Eaters. We've finally caught her, after sixteen long years. Come here, pet." I felt hands grab me and lift me up. They pushed me towards him. "Yes... yes, we've caught you. Your stupid father thought he could hide you for forever... But you can never escape Lord Voldemort. He should have known it was only a matter of time... and here you are, being handed to me on a silver platter!" He laughed, and I shivered, wincing at his dark smell.

"I..." I whispered. He looked down at me.

"You what?"

"I..." I tried again, but couldn't say anymore.

"If you cannot say it, then I shall help you." I felt like something slammed straight into my head, and I staggered backwards. Thoughts and memories flashed in front of my eyes, stopping at the one of Bill. I tried to shut it out, block it out, but I could see it no matter what I did. I was screaming in my head, my ears were ringing with it. I fell to the ground, gasping.

"Cat got your tongue?" I shut my eyes fiercely. "Or should I say... Bill?" My eyes snapped open and I turned to face him, hatred and anger burning in my eyes. He wouldn't dare. Voldemort grinned. My stomach was a block of ice; yes, he would dare. "Come now, do you think you can hurt me? I assure you, I'm much stronger and more powerful than Bill was. Of course, I'd use you for other things... I'm not much into rape, myself." He grinned wider, his eyes flashing. "Of course, I have not had a woman in so many years... I'm sure you wouldn't mind being taken advantage only once more, my pet? After all... power awaits those who seek it, and here I am, handing it to you. Unless of course, you wish to die... That too can be arranged." I had to get out of there, I was going to die; I didn't want to die. I spotted the watch next to me and grabbed it. It glowed blue for an instant before I was jerked into the air, and I heard Voldemort's yell of frustration as I sped away.