Chapter Sixteen of Unexpected Losses

Willow Rosenberg had rarely been as terrified in her life as she was at that moment. The world spun dangerously around her and she felt like she was either going to throw up or faint. Luckily, she saw the familiar face of Harry before her, and she flung herself forward and through a fireplace. She hit the Boy-Who-Lived with an amount of force. He did his best to try and stop her, but also toppled over when Willow hit him. She moaned dizzily and shook herself. Most of her was grimy with soot, and she hoped that traveling through another fireplace would never become a necessity.

"You alright, then, Willow?" Harry asked, assisting her to her feet. For a moment, Willow's legs shook of their own accord, and she watched them in detached bemusement, as Harry steadied her, holding her up with an arm around her back and the other under her elbow, which – though she didn't realize it – was also shaking. He carefully steered her away from the exit of the fireplace before George could come through, and then met her eyes. "Will?"

She jumped, obviously from her thoughts. "Yes?"

"Are you alright?" He questioned slowly, making sure that she understood what he was asking.

"So long as I never have to do that again, I might be okay." Willow nodded in agreement, with a half-smile. She still felt more than just a little unnerved and was trying to relax. Fred and George obviously had given Willow a moment to collect herself, because after her affirmation that she was okay, they approached the pair.

"Harry, Mum's in the kitchen if you want to say hello. Would you like to go ahead and clean up in the bathroom?" George directed this last at Willow, who paled at the thought of having to be alone in the new location. She glanced at Harry, and knew that he both wanted to meet up with Mrs. Weasley alone, and didn't want to leave her. She smiled gently at him, and turned to George.

"Please show me the way?" She questioned. George nodded in return, and gentlemanly offered her his elbow, which she took, despite her sooty self. They headed out of the room, and Harry tried to hide a sigh of relief. He turned to Fred, and smothered the urge to burst into tears again. Fred obviously understood, as he approached Harry, and ruffled his messy black hair affectionately. "C'mon." He slung a long, freckled arm over Harry's shoulders and led him to the kitchen.

Harry entered a twinge slowly. He wasn't sure he was ready to face Mrs. Weasley so quickly after the news he'd received. A huge part of him felt entirely guilty, despite the fact that he knew very well that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would be the last people to blame him. Ever. Molly Weasley glanced up when they entered the room, she stood quickly and swept Harry up in a huge hug. "Hey mum." He greeted her, hugging her back just as fiercely. A few stray tears made their way down the woman's cheeks, and she hastily brushed them away.

"Harry, dear," was all she managed to say before hugging him again, as if making sure that he was actually there. He seemed to understand, and hugged her back. She sniffled again, and pulled away from Harry, glancing over him once, making sure that he was in one piece.

"Mum, I brought someone with me. George is getting her cleaned up." Harry spoke softly. Molly reached up to pat her hair, knowing well that she didn't look remotely presentable for company. Most of her didn't care. "She's the girl who is staying with the Dursleys. Her name is Willow. She's a wandless witch, and she says she might be able to help find Hermione."

Mrs. Weasley caught that last news a little breathlessly. "She...she can?"

"That's why we're here. She needs something of Hermione's to do it." Harry answered. "And she needs a map. Do you have anything?"

"I know we do. I'll ask Arthur where it is. He's with Jon and Cynthia." She answered thoughtfully. Jon and Cynthia. Hermione's parents. Harry felt slightly foolish for not remembering that they would be there. He didn't want to raise their hopes too high. He had never really seen Willow work a spell other than the Lumos spell that he'd instructed her to show him. Then again, he couldn't imagine her saying that she could perform a spell that she couldn't do.

Willow entered the room slowly, peeking in to see if she was interrupting anything before her body followed. She quickly approached Harry's side, instinctively thinking of the only person she knew as a sort of safe zone. She stood awkwardly beside him, not knowing what to tell the woman before her. What do you say to a stranger when their son dies? "Hello." Willow whispered to her feet.

Mrs. Weasley offered the painfully shy girl before her a gentle smile, and reached forward and hugged her. Another redhead. Her entire life was full of them. She actually seemed a bit like Ginny was when she was younger. Ginny had grown into a fierce young woman, leaving her shyness behind when she found herself, Willow still seemed to cling to it just a bit. "Hello, dear. Harry says that you might be able to help us find Hermione?"

"Yes. I think I can." Willow replied, still staring at the floor. "If you have something that belongs to her. And a map? I should be able to scry for her."

"Come along, dear. There are a lot of people here right now, and you should meet them before you begin. No need to have someone walk in and panic. Hermione's parents are here, so they should have something for you to use." Mrs. Weasley said brusquely. The busier she was, the less she could think about her youngest son. She reached out and took Willow's hand, squeezing it softly. She was obviously scared, and Mrs. Weasley was mother enough to know that the girl needed some assurance. As if proving it was the right move, Willow met her eyes and smiled weakly.

Mrs. Weasley led them to another room, where three more adults were sitting. A redheaded man and another couple. The man stood and greeted Harry with a hug, as Mrs. Weasley had done. "All right, son?" He asked, and Harry nodded, righting himself when he was released. "Oh? And who is this?" Arthur asked, catching sight of Willow.

"Arthur, this is Willow." Molly said, entering the room. "She's a wandless witch. She says she knows a spell that might be able to help us find Hermione." The pair on the couch immediately focused their attention on the slip of girl that was Willow. The redhead in question blushed again, and silently thanked Mrs. Weasley and Harry. Whenever they spoke, they were careful to add "mights" and "maybes" just to make it clear that if it didn't work, they wouldn't hold her responsible.

"You can find my baby?" The woman questioned, frizzy brown hair bobbing when she jerked her head upwards. She regarded Willow with slight disbelief.

"I can really try." Willow answered honestly.

"That's all we can ask. Thank you." The man next to her replied, regarding Willow seriously. She nodded in response, accepting the thanks at face value.

"I'll need something of hers." She said softly. The Grangers shared a glance and then nodded to Willow in a confirmation of their understanding. After a short period of whispering, Mr. Granger left his wife and headed out of the room, presumably to get something for Willow to use.

"Come along, Willow. You should meet the rest of my children. They're all upstairs." Willow followed wordlessly, wondering how many awkward hellos she would have to stutter to a family whose situation she couldn't comprehend. Harry, though, was at her side, and she felt more peaceable around him. He would her muddle through this, despite his own pain, and for that she was truly grateful.

The first stop was a bedroom where two men were speaking. Willow immediately knew that they were more Weasleys, if only from their red hair alone. One was apparently older than the other, with long red hair pulled back in a ponytail, and a claw dangling from one ear. He was tall and very fit, standing quickly when the door opened. The other was also tall, but lankier than the other. Horn-rimmed glasses perched at the end of a long nose, and he seemed to be looking down at them as he also ascended to his feet, albeit more slowly.

"Mum." Greeted the first, and then he noticed the others. "Harry!" He seemed surprised. He moved forward to clasp hands with the younger man, with a brief, but warm, smile for him. He turned to Willow, who smiled weakly. There were so many people there, and she had no idea how she was going to be able to keep track of them.

"Bill, Percy, this is Willow." Mrs. Weasley began, but stopped at the look Percy was shooting them. "Percy?" She asked quietly. She paused when he slowly approached them.

"All of this is your fault." He said to Harry, fury burning in his tone and his eyes. He slid between the three people in the door way, and a moment later, a door slamming indicated his arrival at another destination. Harry winced when Percy spoke to him, and grew slightly teary, though he quickly shook it away. So, someone else noticed what he already knew. There was still too much to do to wallow in his guilt and misery.

"None of us think that, Harry." Bill spoke then, glaring at the spot his brother had vacated. "Percy's just taking this hard. He and Ron had another fight a few days ago...they hadn't made up. He feels guilty, and he just wants to pin in on someone he can take it out on. It's not anyone's fault but You-Know-Who's." Harry nodded, though it was obvious that he didn't believe. Bill shook his head sadly and turned to Willow. "Hey."

Willow nodded in response, but kept silent, feeling even more awkward than she had before, and also angry. She wanted desperately to go and defend Harry to the bespectacled redhead, but knew that she was currently a guest, and had very pressing matters to attend to before she could go about yelling at people she didn't know in a situation where she didn't exactly fit in.

"Where is Charlie?" Molly asked her oldest son, then, knowing that she needed to keep the conversation moving.

"With Gin. She hasn't said a word since Fred and George left." Bill answered. "Just cries. I'm worried about her, Mum."

Molly nodded at that, and ushered Harry and Willow out of the room. Bill followed, wondering what the redheaded girl was doing at his home, and whether it had something to do with Ron or not. Molly led them to a room, which had its door shut. She opened it slowly, and was met with the sight of her only daughter and youngest child curled up on her bed, tears streaming down her face. Her second oldest sat next to her, rubbing her back affectionately.

Willow noted that this brother seemed to resemble the twins more than Bill or Percy. He was shorter and more muscular. He had a rather fantastic shiny burn scar on the arm he rubbed his sister's back with. He was whispering intently to her, and he turned to the door when it opened. "Hullo Mum." He paused for a minute. "Harry!" He seemed surprised at the presence of the black-haired boy, much like Bill was. He disentangled himself from Ginny, and offered Harry a hand to shake.

He offered Willow an obvious glance, and then shook her hand as well. "Charlie Weasley. And you are?"

"Willow Rosenberg." Willow answered quietly, noting how small her hand felt in his. His fingers were roughly calloused and it made her fingers itch.

She stared at her shoes, allowing the girl on the bed to collect herself without having a stranger stare at her. Harry, apparently, had no such reservations, as he quickly approached her. He knelt by her bed so that his face was level with hers. "Ginny?" He asked her softly. He sat back on his heels, giving her some space, and was surprised when he found himself with an armful of Ginny Weasley.

"Harry!" She cried, wrapping her arms solidly around him. Willow looked away, crushing a feeling that was remarkably akin to envy mercilessly. This girl was obviously suffering a lot of grief, and she was just worried about Harry. It wasn't anything personal. And even if it was, it wasn't her business. "I was worried about you." Ginny said this directly into his neck, so it took a moment for Harry to discern what she said, as he carefully pat her back. "I wasn't sure if you were okay. Or if you knew."

"Gin." He replied softly, managing to stand and pull the girl to her feet. "I'd like you to meet Willow Rosenberg." He pulled her over to meet the other redheaded girl. Willow wasn't surprised that the girl was a taller than her. She meekly offered her hand, and was surprised when she, too, ended up with an armful of Ginny Weasley.

"Sorry." Ginny said, pulling away sniffling. "I'm sorry."

"No. It's okay." Willow answered, regaining her voice, understanding the girl's need for contact, having had suffered it when she'd gotten the news about her parents. She'd always been one to appreciate contact with other people. Whenever she got bad news, it was a lot worse. "I'm Willow."

"Ginerva. Ginny." She answered, this time more appropriately shaking Willow's slender hand with her own. She seemed embarrassed, which Willow understood, and so the older girl said nothing, but merely tried to keep a warm smile on her face.

"So. Would you like to try your spell, Willow?" Molly Weasley asked from behind them. With a deep breath, Willow turned and nodded her confirmation.

"I think so. I'll need somewhere quiet to do it as well. I can't get distracted or the spell could go awry, and that's especially dangerous with any kind of tracking spell. I don't want anyone outside of this house to know what I'm doing. And I need that map, as well. As specific as it can be. I'll be moving from a big map to a smaller one as I go. Until I can pinpoint her location as much as possible. As well as four candles, too." It was probably the most words Willow had used in succession at the Weasley household.

"Of course." Mrs. Weasley nodded in acquiescence and then led Willow back downstairs. Willow was led into a small room that was out of the way and quiet. No one was even nearby. There was a map spread across a table, covering a wide area. Next to the table were several small stacks of other maps. Willow assumed that each one was concentrated over smaller areas that were on the big map. Also on the table was a well-worn book. She knelt next to the table, and read the cover. Hogwarts: A History.

Willow glanced up to Harry as if asking for confirmation. He nodded. The book was Hermione's. Willow was a little dubious at first, using a book to track Hermione's physical and magical signature, or she was until she reached out with a thread of magic to get the feel for the girl from the book. As soon as she tried, she was almost overwhelmed by the sense she was looking for. Nodding her approval at the object, she turned and knelt before the coffee table everything she'd requested was waiting for her.

The candles each sat on an edge of the table, unlit, but with a mere thought and a spark of magic, they sprung to life simultaneously, earning herself gasps from her spectators. She ignored them. She removed a necklace she was wearing. It was a rose quartz, and cut in an attractive shape, leaving one point on an octagonal shaped stone. A cord was strung through the other end, and Willow held the cord by the knot after removing it from her neck. The large map was spread out before her. With her eyes closed, Willow swung the stone is wide, slow circles. It easily turned according to her practiced touch. After a few moments, the stone suddenly dropped, almost as if it had been weighted or magnetized.

Willow glanced down at where it landed, and glanced at Mrs. Weasley. "Do you have a smaller map of London?" Mrs. Weasley approached the table, reaching out with her wand. She tapped the map twice, and suddenly the picture changed. It was only focused on the city of London now. Willow took her turn to watch in shock. The map didn't change size at all, physically, but it focused on another area entirely.

She closed her eyes in concentration again, and began moving the crystal once more over the map until it finally came to another stop. Mrs. Weasley and Willow repeated the process several more times until the map was unable to focus more. But by then it was entirely unnecessary. Willow stared in blatant shock at what was revealed.

She shared a glance with Mrs. Weasley, who seemed every bit as surprised.

"How did he get there?"

OoOoOoO

Hermione had been left alone since she'd gotten Bellatrix Lestrange to reveal herself. Hermione was, by then, half-expecting to be left to rot in this dungeon for however long the rest of her life might be. Voldemort didn't seem to have any interest what-so-ever in seeing her, and there didn't seem to be anyone guarding her at all. Seeing as she refused to believe Lestrange's taunts about Ron's demise, Hermione put most of her energy into discovering where she was. Unfortunately, form her vantage point; there wasn't a whole lot for her to see.

The most she'd been able to decipher was that she was somewhere old. It seemed to be they type of dungeon Muggles would've used long ago, but it might have been Muggle-inspired. Hermione wasn't precisely an expert on dungeons of any era, much less what wizards currently used, so the only hint she really had was the age of the place. And that really didn't do a whole lot to narrow the field. The monotony of the small room was quickly becoming unbearable, and it slowly seemed to be pushing her to the edge. She really didn't know how much more she could handle.

Frankly, she was almost to the point of wishing Voldemort did want to see her. At least she could know for sure what had happened to Ron. They could be telling Ron the same thing about her as she heard about him, and she couldn't risk trying to escape or something with him still captive. Hermione was torn from her thoughts as footsteps approached. She scrambled to her feet and went as closely to the bars of the cell as she dared. After a moment, she heard voices as well, originating with the footsteps.

""What happened to his nose?' The voice was male and tinged with curiosity. A note in it reminded her of Ron, though the accent was American, so Hermione guessed that he was probably about their age.

"Shut your mouth, Muggle. You dig your own grave with your tongue." Snapped a more familiar voice, and one Hermione wasn't fond of at all.

"Okay, that's really gross." A disgusted noise followed the response. Hermione, stunned, realized that whoever the boy was, he was giving Lucius Malfoy lip. It was unlike anything she'd heard of before.

"I will relish the moment he lets me kill you." Lucius replied icily.

"Psh. I've heard that before. And trust me, Cordy's scarier than you." The answer this time was more conversational. Hermione pulled back when Lucius and the teen appeared before her cell. Lucius was still wearing the traditional robes of a Death Eater, but Hermione easily recognized him from his speech alone. The boy was a touch taller than Malfoy and had thick, dark hair. His long-sleeved shirt was bright and dark blue striped, and he wore baggy khaki pants as well. He was slender, and not badly built, but was apparently not the most graceful of sorts as he almost tripped over his own feet, regaining balance quickly.

Lucius turned his back to Hermione, and nearly tossed the teenager into a cell across from Hermione's. She had the distinct impression that if he could've thrown him in, he would've. Lucius locked the cage behind him, sneering at both inhabitants of the room before leaving without another word.

The teenager, in his cell, glared at his retreating back, but also kept his mouth shut. He quickly surveyed his surroundings before seeing her. "Hey. This place sucks."

"I'd have to agree." Hermione answered, wondering what a Muggle, American, teenaged boy was doing where Voldemort was concerned.

A spark of recognition lit up warm brown eyes as he stared at her. "You...you must be that girl."

"What girl?" Hermione was confused.

"Harry's friend." Xander answered softly, but in their present conditions, it was quite easy for Hermione to hear him.

"You know Harry?" She asked in disbelief. Harry had never mentioned knowing any Americans. Much less one as odd as this boy. "Who are you?"

"I'm Xander Harris. I met Harry yesterday." Xander answered. He wasn't sure how or whether he was supposed to tell the girl that her boyfriend was dead. Or, really, much of anything. It wouldn't be easy explaining who he was and what he was doing there, and what Voldemort wanted with him. Xander had seen enough movies that he knew their conversations might well be monitored, and he didn't want to risk anyone finding out about the truth of Willow's location.

"Hermione Granger." The brunette girl answered him. She seemed very weary to Xander, leaning heavily on the bars of her cell. Her bushy hair stuck out wildly, and her sweater and jeans were badly rumpled from a long period of time of wear without change. There was something distinctly Willow-like about her, though, and Xander really wanted to go and hug her for it. "Why are you here?"

"Because I know things that He doesn't." Xander answered her, and she didn't have to ask which "He" Xander was talking about.

"That's dangerous." Hermione replied softly, and moved to sit next to the bars, unsure how much longer her legs could support her without getting some rest. She'd felt exhausted since she'd first arrived, and everything seemed to catch up with her. Xander copied her movements from her side of the hallway, taking a seat as well, before offering her a weary smile.

"Not as dangerous as not knowing something." Xander replied with an unconcerned shrug. Hermione wondered whether if he was brave or just incredibly stupid. "So, how do we get out of here?"

"We don't. Or I don't. You can try." Hermione spoke with a shrug, staring at the brick wall before her.

"Why?" He asked. Xander bit his tongue, praying that she wouldn't mention Ron. He didn't know how to tell her.

"My boyfriend. He's here somewhere, but I can't leave without him." Hermione answered, this time turning to look at him. It was impossible to miss his flinch at her words. Hermione wondered why. He turned to her with a stare that frightened her. "What?"

"Ron." Xander answered. He watched as Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. After a moment, she nodded in agreement. Obviously, she assumed that because he knew about her, Harry had told him about Ron as well. Xander clenched his eyes shut, and when he finally managed to open them again, Hermione was standing again and had pinned him in her gaze. Xander swallowed thickly.

"What?" Hermione asked faintly.

"Ron is dead." Xander answered her softly. "Fred and George came and told Harry. I'm sorry."

"No." Hermione said weakly. She was unsure whether or not she was shocked, confirming a truth she couldn't admit alone, or angry. She glared, bright-eyed, at the intruder into her own personal hell, deciding on angry. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"The clock." Xander answered, even as his mind scrambled to come up with something to tell her. "They said he faded on the clock."

Hermione wilted visibly at that. No muggle could've known about the Weasley's clock or how it functioned. She backed up until she hit a wall, and slid down to sit. "No. Please."

"Hermione, we have to get out of here." Xander interrupted her spinning mind.

"What's the point?"

"Getting him back. And Harry. I don't think he could keep going without you." Xander replied softly, honesty ringing so truly in his tone Hermione couldn't ignore it. His mind traveled to Jesse's death and Willow helping him cope with the pain.

"Okay. Let's make a plan."

(a/n: w00t. Another chapter! I totally didn't think you guys would get it. My cat knocked over a drink onto my computer and it wouldn't start up for a day just when I figured where I wanted this to go, too. Anyway. I kind of like this chapter a bit. You people should've seen the first draft. Horrible, horrible. –shivers-. Anyway, please leave me a note saying what you though. I hope that all of you liked it and all that. I'm off!)