Sorry it has taken me so long to write this chapter. I know, I apologize a lot. But yeah. I just started school again. Thanks to the reviewers.

Disclaimer I do not own Harry Potter in any way, shape, or form. However, on top of the toilet paper I had last time, I seem to have gained way too many school books meant to build the strength of my back.

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Chapter 2: The Burrow

Ron sat in his tiny excuse of a room. He could not focus on anything around him, quite a feat for a room covered with bright orange pictures of his favorite Quidditch team. How was he was supposed to focus though. Harry Potter had just been sent to Azkaban for the murder of Albus Dumbledore. Even if Harry had not been his friend he would have been in shock.

But Harry was more than his best friend, he was like the brother without red hair that he had never had. He had never cared that Ron was poor and wore shabby clothes. He had never worried about what people might think about the great Harry Potter hanging out with a loser from a family with too many kids. He had been there for him at all times, even when Ron had doubted him. Harry may have had to deal with a lot, but he had always had time to be friends with Ron.

But now he was a criminal. He had been the one who warned everyone about the return of Voldemort, but now he served as a warning to everyone that you could never who to trust anymore. And god, Ron wished he could trust Harry now. But he could not even trust the memory of him. Harry was not gone from his life because the Harry he though he had known for so long had never existed. He had been a lie.

But Ron knew he could not believe that. He knew that no matter what he thought, Harry had never been a murderer. But isn't that what everyone says about the people who suddenly murder people—that they never seemed like someone who would murder someone. Besides, no one had ever thought Peter Pettigrew would be the one to betray Lily and James Potter.

Now that he thought about it, this must have been what Lily and James felt like when they realized what Peter really was. Not only betrayed, but also sad. Because it is so hard to hate someone who was your best friend and gave you so much fun throughout the years and then suddenly took it all away.

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Hermione paced back and forth in her room in the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley had told her stay there for the weekend. Now that she was there, she wished she could just stay there forever. Or maybe she could go back home and then act like a Muggle again. Anything to get away from the magic world and the sadness that came from it.

For once, she did not want to return to school. She knew that when she did, people would stare at her, point at her, and maybe even whisper about her. She was the best friend of the boy who had murdered the greatest wizard of all time. Even more, people had always put them together and thought they were involved in some secret relationship. But it was not even the rumors or the spotlight that she minded; it was what they reminded her of.

It reminded her that Harry was not there anymore. He was not there for her to rebuke or help or laugh at. Everything was already feeling different without Dumbledore, but without Harry, things were even more alien. It made everything tenser because he was not there to serve as a reminder that Voldemort was not all-powerful. But now, Voldemort was omnipotent. He had everything gone that he needed to be gone.

Nothing in Hermione's logical brain could grasp what had happened. She had tried to think it over and over. Seeing Harry's face as he walked down, she knew that he could tell that she was confused. His eyes had bee so dead, so tired. He seemed like an old man who had succumbed to a fate that only he knew. His shoulders were slouched like someone who had dropped a heavy burden that they had carried for a long time, but was still not sure of how to walk tall and proud.

It was this submission that hurt Hermione the most. Seeing Harry, the person who would do anything (even if it could get him killed, or worse, expelled) give up was the one thing that convinced Hermione that things were going to be very difficult from now on. Harry was the bravest person she ever knew. She could even say that he was the greatest person, including those she had read about in books.

The best thing about Harry used to be that he was her best friend. Now, the worst thing was that he was still her best friend.

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Mrs. Weasley was trying to cook in the kitchen. She had already cut herself several times because her hands had been trembling several times. As she attempted to use her wand to boil the water, she ended up splashing more of the water because of her shaking voice.

"Here, dear, why don't you just take a break?" spoke her husband, sitting in a chair holding a newspaper, but not really reading it.

"No, no. It's okay. Besides, we need to eat tonight," she replied.

"We don't have to eat home cooking tonight, we could always try that Muggle stuff—that fast food stuff. It's really amazing when you think about. Just go in and they have-"

"We are not going to eat any of that stuff. Besides, I can cook tonight. I am just not feeling that well."

Mr. Weasley gave her a doubting glance, but just returned to staring at his paper. Both of them were avoiding discussing the obvious. They did not want to have to talk about it. It would just get everyone sad again. Ron and Hermione were already sad, there was no need to make them feel any more depressed.

The truth was that both of them were beyond heartbroken. Seeing him walk as a guilty man had been just as sad as if it had been one of their own children. They had enjoyed taking care of Harry, the boy who had never known what a loving family was. Sure, he was different from their sons, but it did not matter.

Mrs. Weasley rested her wand on the table, staring at the potato peels that were scattered around. She could feel her eyes tearing up again. She tried to tell herself to get a grip, but it was not working. The tears were falling out of her eyes now.

Mr. Weasley got up and walked over to her. He pulled her into a hug and stood there with her. It was silent except for the soft sobs of the little red-haired woman. She opened her eyes only to see Harry's dejected face peering quietly on the front of the Daily Prophet. This intensified her sorrow and multiplied her tears.

Mr. Weasley softly kissed her forehead while tenderly patting her back and smoothing her frizzy hair. She closed her eyes and tried to stop her tears. They stood there together for some time. After a while, Mr. Weasley spoke again.

"Here, honey, I'll try to help you cook this stuff."

This resulted in a smirk on Mrs. Weasley's face as she remembered the last time Mr. Weasley had tried to cook for the family. He may be good at putting cars together, but the same did not apply to putting together meals.

"That's okay. I'll get it done. We do not want the chicken to look a dragon's hide again."

"If you say so. But hurry up. Remember, Bill, Charlie, and the twins are coming to eat tonight."

"Yes, don't worry. I will get it all done. Go back to reading your paper."

And with a kiss on his wife's cheek, he returned back to his chair, though he did not pick up the paper.

Mrs. Weasley resumed her cooking, her hands shaking a little bit less.

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Ginny lay down on her bed and did what she knew everyone else in the house was doing. Thinking about Harry.

Harry Potter. Her first real crush. She remembered how she used to be in such awe of him and how he had been so nice to her. He had saved her life and been her friend. She may have gotten over her crush on him, but she still was in awe of him.

Even though she knew he was human, he seemed so beyond it. Maybe it was the fact that he tried to seem so normal that he seemed so different. But now, she did not know what to think of him. This whole murderer thing was completely unexpected of Harry. No one would have seen that coming. From the pacing she could hear coming from Hermione's room, she knew that the bushy-haired girl was thinking the same thing.

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Hermione walked out of her room and walked down the hallway. Walking past Ginny's room, she went to the neon orange room after that. She knocked, but no one answered. She knocked again. When no one responded again, she talked to the door.

"Ron, open the door."

Silence.

"Ron! Open the stupid door."

Silence.

"Ronald Weasley, stop being a stupid, lazy asshole and open the goddamn door."

Maybe it was the shock of hearing Hermione swear twice in one sentance, but Ron opened the door. His eyes were puffy and he had a solemn looked etched on his face.

"What?"

"Can I come in?"

"Why?"

"I don't know? To talk?"

"About what?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe the weather, Potions, the history of magic, or maybe, the most obvious answer, Harry."

"I'd take you up on the first three topic, but the fourth one….

"Oh, come on Ron. I know you want to."

"Yeah, really. How about, for once in your life, you realize that you are wrong and that I do not want to talk about Harry?"

"Look, Ron, I've been your best friend for a long enough time to know you very well and-"

"Oh, of course. Because Hermione is always right. Because Hermione knows everything about everyone. Did little miss smarty-pants also know that Harry fucking Potter was going to turn into a fucking murderer! You say you know me very well. Did you also know Harry very well? Huh, did you! Did you know him well enough to know that he would be a murderer! Well, news flash for you Hermione—you do not know everything about everyone!"

"Ron, that really is—," but before Hermione could finish her sentence, Ron's door slammed shut, Ron on the other side of it. With an annoyed look on her face, Hermione put her hand on the door handle and shoved the door open. Ron was lying down on his bed and staring at nothing.

"Hermione, please get out."

Hermione just walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. She looked at the floor, resting her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands. They both just sat there in the silence, thinking of their best friend who seemed so distant. Finally, Ron broke the silence.

"I do not want to believe it."

"No one wants to believe it. Everyone wants it to be a lie or a mistake or some demented, twisted joke."

"But what else could have happened?"

"There is only one person who knows—the murderer."

The silence started again, broken by Hermione's sobs. Ron sat up and lightly patted her head, staring at the tears pouring down her cheeks.

"Sorry about the yelling thing earlier," he said quietly.

"It's okay, you were just upset. It's completely understandable."

"Well, everyone else was upset too. None of them are screaming at their best friends."

"Yeah, well you are just a stupid prat," Hermione said, smiling through her tears. Ron could not help but laugh too. It might not be funny, but compared to everything else that was going on, it would have to do.

"Well, even if I am a prat, at least I can smell food. C'mon, I think mom's finished dinner."

"Is food all you ever think about?"

"Yup."

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The Weasleys and Hermione crowded around a table. Their faces were void of much expression. It was like a game—who would be the first to break down. They all started to eat when a knock was heard on the door. But before the Mr. Weasley could get up to open the door, Percy Weasley walked in. Everyone stared at him.

"Uh…hi. I just thought I would stop by. See how everyone is doing. Um…maybe I will just go now though."

But before Percy could protest, Mrs. Weasley stood up and gave her son a tight hug. Then she pulled up a chair for him and told him to sit down. The other members of the family were looked at each other, but just shrugged their shoulders and started eating again. It was silent for a while before Percy finally talked again.

"Um, so how is everyone doing?"

Charlie and Bill nodded their heads to signal that they were doing well. Fred and George smiled to reveal that their joke shop was doing exceptionally well. Hermione, Ginny, and Ron just stared at their food, unsure of what movement one does to represent that school had been going well, but would now be utter crap.

"So what are you doing now, Percy?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"I am being put in the Department of Mysteries for now. It is probably temporary though, until they find some qualified men to come in."

"It was horrible what the Death Eaters did to the last men," Charlie stated.

"Yeah, that is why not many people are too eager to take the position now," Mr. Weasley said.

"You would think people would want to help the cause though," said Hermione.

"I do not think there will be that many people eager to do anything anymore," Bill brought up.

"Why?" asked Ron.

Ginny was the one to answer, "Because no one thinks it will make a difference now. Now with Dumbledore and Har-," she stopped herself.

Everyone stopped talking again. The Topic had been brought up, the Name had been said. And now everyone was left to their own thoughts.

"I wonder what he is doing now," said Mrs. Weasley. No one had to ask who "he" was. And so they sat there contemplating what he probably was doing.

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Harry, in fact, was sitting in his cell. It was rather small, but it was so empty that it was hard to tell. He stared at the wall, his mind wandering aimlessly from happy thoughts to sad thoughts. He had no idea what time it was, but he decided to guess that it was around nighttime. Lying down on the dirty ground, he began to think about what he had tried to keep himself from thinking about. His friends.

He stared at the ceiling, thinking about what they were probably doing now. In his imagination, some friends were ignorant of what happened to him, while others were busy blaming. But he could not imagine what the Weasleys were doing. It was funny because they were closest friends he had ever had, but he could not pin down what they might be doing.

His last thought before he drifted off into an uneasy sleep was that he wished that he knew what the Weasleys were doing and what they were thinking.

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Finally. I finished with this chapter. I like it. It turned out pretty well (I think—though I will probably change my mind within an hour of posting it). So please review.

Thanks and goodbye (until later).