A/N: Back again, sooner than I was the last time. For future reference: I do not give up on my stories. I have never once given up on a story in my entire life. I occasionally leave them from time to time, but I do not abandon them. The reason it took me so long to update was because my computer broke, but also because I could not, I COULD NOT think of anything to put down. So I just shoved my disk into a drawer and walked away from this for a while until I felt better about it. I get in these moods when I can't write, and when I have writer's block. It makes me grumpy.

And I'm sorry about the spacing. I'm working on it, I really am, for some reason my laptop won't translate it onto Fanfiction. Don't ask me why. Please bear with me until I find something that works-I'm not trying to make it hard to read!

Disclaimer: Writing in my World History class. It should tell you that I don't own it. That and the little copyright sign.

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Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat with Harry. He was the only one sitting on the couch. He felt quite alone, seeing as how Fred, George, Bill, Charlie, Hermione, Ron, Angelina, Alicia, and Katie were standing behind Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley had Apparated to Mr. Weasley at work, and he had immediately come home.

Mrs. Weasley patted Harry's knee in a comforting way. The touch was soft, yet it provided enough strength for Harry to look up from the patched, frayed rug and to look into Mrs. Weasley's loving eyes. "Harry dear, what do you remember about Oliver's parents?"

"It was in my dream," Harry said in a wooden voice. "I just remembered something about Voldemort," all of the Weasley's made a small flinch, like someone had raised their fist suddenly right beside them, "and he was saying something about Oliver's parents. He was saying that he had to expend more effort than was necessary on Oliver's parents, and that he hoped that this would make Oliver cooperate. And then he threatened his friends."

"Oh," Alicia said softly. She had never met Oliver's parents, but she had seen pictures of them in Oliver's room. It was when the Gryffindor Quidditch team was having one of their all-night parties. This time Oliver had drawn the lucky straw. Percy had yelled and yelled until his throat was hoarse, but he eventually subsided with his screaming. About two in the morning, Percy had even joined in with them in some of their wilder games. Despite everything else, Alicia smiled in fondness of the memories that she would cherish from her days at Hogwarts.

Mrs. Weasley cried out softly and clapped her hand over her mouth. Mr. Weasley squeezed her shoulder tightly and shook his head. "I think it's time that I called Dumbledore," he said in a heavy voice. No one moved as he reached out for Pig. Errol was asleep, and everyone thought it best not to disturb him. Hedwig was upstairs, recovering from her journey to Hermione's parents. Mr. Weasley shook his head after some thought. "What am I thinking?" he asked himself, before he walked outside of the house and Disapparated.

Mrs. Weasley shook her head and got up from the sofa. She went into the kitchen and began to make tea. She stared blankly at the kettle until it whistled. She mechanically brought out the small cups. Everyone took one without enthusiasm. Katie was the first one to speak.

"How could someone do something like that?" she asked, in a voice that trembled. She sniffed, and her eyes grew bright and red, but she did not cry. "I mean, how could someone just...kill someone...for no good reason? How could they do that?" Angelina bit her lip and stared fixedly at the carpet while Alicia ran the heel of her hand across her eyes.

"I don't know," Bill said hollowly. "How can Voldemort do anything? How could he kill people just for fun? Or because he's bored? I don't know. I don't think that anyone does." Katie sniffed again, and George patted her arm and then rubbed her back gently.

Harry still sat alone. Now more than ever, he felt like an outsider. The normal people were enjoying their sensations of grief, while he was the pariah of the Weasley family. Oh, they included him in everything they did. The exclusion was more of a mental exclusion. He still had not told anyone about the prophecy about him and Voldemort. The prophecy was the thing that was excluding him. He was slowly separating himself from normal, everyday society. The separation was not something that he was doing consciously. He wanted to end the slow parting from Ron and Hermione, from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, from his life that he had led. He wanted nothing more than to forget about the prophecy, about Sirius, about Cedric, and enjoy eating Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans with Ron while Hermione did her homework and muttered about how disgusting boys were. But instead he was drifting away from them. It was like the Muggle science class he was in when he was ten and they showed the Earth breaking apart. The continents slowly drifting apart reminded him of his life and the gradual splitting that he had with Ron and Hermione. They didn't seem to notice that anything was wrong.

Harry was pushed into a deep depression. He was so consumed by his small internal dialogue that he didn't hear Ron calling his name. he only snapped out of his mind when Fred jogged his knee. "Harry," Ron called out as if from a great distance. Harry violently shook his head and looked around. Everyone was watching him with a look of great concern on his or her face.

"Yeah?" Harry asked, trying to look like he hadn't been dozing off. No one was fooled.

"We were just asking you if you remembered anything else about the dream," Hermione said with her usual bluntness. "Anything at all-how long ago it was, whether or not his parents really are dead-"

"They might not be dead!" Katie exclaimed happily. "We've been doing all this worrying, and they might be all right! Vol-Voldemort doesn't have to tell the truth! He could be lying, we all know that he's done it before! There's no reason that his parents can't be sitting at home."

Everyone nodded and seemed to feel heartened by this suggestion. Alicia laughed softly and rubbed her chin. Angelina nodded furiously, as if her fervor could make it true. Fred and George hit each other on the arm. Hermione nodded slowly, looking like she was having an internal argument with herself. Harry felt a weight being lifted off of his chest. Voldemort lied. He did it all the time. There was no reason now that he wasn't lying to convince Oliver to cooperate with him. Oliver's parents were probably in their small house in Scotland, just settling down to afternoon tea.

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Dumbledore, Tonks, Kingsley, and Mr. Weasley all sat inside a small private room inside the Minsitry. Though Dumbledore was no longer disgraced, there were some that were incredibly loyal to Fudge that looked askance at Dumbledore, as if wondering how he could have had the nerve to enter. Kingsley sighed and tugged lightly on his golden earring.

"Well, it seems obvious what we must do," Mr. Weasley said. "We have to go see if Mr. and Mrs. Wood are truly dead."

"We'll need more than just us," Kingsley brought up. "The Death Eaters might still have the house under surveillance. Of course, that's if they were really there."

"We should have been watching that house from the beginning," Tonks said regretfully. "We should have had our people crawling all over it."

"There's nothing we can do about that now," Dumbledore brought up. The tone of his voice was light, but his blue eyes were troubled with guilt. "Kingsley, get a team together and go to the house. Be very careful." As the Aurors and Mr. Weasley walked out of the room, Dumbledore shook his head and took off his small, half-moon glasses. "We don't want someone else to be killed," he added as an afterthought.

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Tonks, Kingsley, Lupin, Sturgis Podmore (now released from Azkaban, and with a full pardon) Apparated in front of the small house. It was an old house, and made out of stone. The damp smell of rain was heavy on the air. The four wizards looked up at the house without saying anything.

"Well, should we go in?" Tonks asked after looking up at the house for a few minutes. Lupin shrugged and walked forward.

"I don't see why not," he said, going up to the door and knocking firmly. The door swung open under his knock. A small spike of foreboding hit his heart. Lupin looked at everyone else. They made no move, but he could see his concern reflected in their own eyes. He swallowed, shrugged, pushed the door open the rest of the way and walked in.

The door creaked quietly behind him as he stepped into the small house. The windows had been left open, and the curtains wafted in on a gentle breeze. He stepped further into the little kitchen. There were no signs of a struggle there. The dishes had been put in the sink. As a matter of fact, a tiny sponge was half-heartedly scrubbing away at a particularly dirty pan. "Mr. Wood?" Lupin called out, straining his ears and his body forward. "Mrs. Wood? It's the Order. Is anyone home? Hello?" he took several cautious steps forward.

He turned around, wand at the ready when he heard a loud clattering. Tonks put a metal pan back where it was and looked abashedly at Kingsley, Podmore, and Lupin. "Sorry," she whispered, her cheeks flaming red. She ran her hand self-consciously through her hair (medium length black today) and followed everyone else. The small party came to the sitting room door. Lupin tried the knob, but found out that the door was locked.

"Aloharoma!" Kingsley whispered, sending out a small jet of golden light. The door swung open a tiny bit. Lupin pushed it the rest of the way and entered into the sitting room. The room smelled like toast and for some odd reason, cats. It smelled like the house of elderly people. Lupin could feel himself relaxing as he looked through the sitting room. The Woods were fine. They had probably just stopped to go out somewhere. Still, he should probably look through the rest of the house, just in case.

"Search the rest of the house," he ordered, looking around the sitting room. He walked forward a few paces to where two chairs faced the wall. He spun them around, and jumped back with a cry of horror.

The Woods were sitting in their chairs, obviously dead. Mr. Wood's hand was poised to take his wand out of his robes, while Mrs. Wood had just died sitting upright with an expression of outright terror on her face. Tonks, Podmore, Kingsley, and Mr. Weasley could not pull their eyes away from the dreadful sight. For a few minutes there were no sounds, just the empty echoing rasping of their shallow breaths.

"We...we need to get out of here," Tonks finally said. "We need to tell Dumbledore what's happened." Mr. Weasley nodded and then realized that no one could hear his nod.

"You're right," he addressed Tonks. "We're going to need to tell Ron and the others. It's going to break their hearts." He sadly shook his head and walked out of the room. Podmore grabbed his elbow.

"What are we going to do with...with those?" he asked, jerking his head back towards the sitting room. "We can't just leave them there."

"It's not up to me," Mr. Weasley said, sparing a glance backwards. "We need to tell Dumbledore first. Then we'll find out what we do next."

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Percy was walking down the corridor at the Ministry of Magic. Even very important wizards within the Ministry occasionally felt the call of nature. He was concentrating on his feet and not looking up at the people passing him. The first time he looked up was when he accidentally ran into someone. Percy glanced up then to see who he almost run over. He stepped back in shock when he realized that it was his father.

Mr. Weasley looked at his son with surprise that mirrored Percy's own. This was the first time that they had come face to face in many months. Now that he was finally faced with a member of his family, Percy didn't know what to do. All of his carefully rehearsed phrases had gone out of his head. All of his suave "Hello Dad, Mum. How are you today?" and all of his apologies: gone.

There was something in Percy's eyes, Mr. Weasley reflected to himself. There was no longer the cold disdain and the careful distance that he had kept. There was something in his eyes that signaled that he wanted to serve penance for what he had done. Mr. Weasley almost grabbed Percy and enveloped him in a huge hug. Almost. But then the memory of what Percy had done to Molly and to his entire family hit him. He merely nodded cordially. "Hello Percy," he greeted his son. He greeted him almost the way that he would say hello to a person that he barely knew.

Percy felt a huge ripping begin in his chest. His father was not going to forgive him. And he was going to keep on standing here and staring at his father like a big idiot. Percy tried to force himself to speak. His throat was suddenly dry and it felt like his tongue had been glued to the roof of his mouth. Perhaps a Silencing Spell has been put on me, Percy mused to himself while he was trying to talk.

Before either one of them could say anything, a door opened on the side. "Arthur? You wished to speak with me?" Percy turned around to see the figure of his former Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. Nothing had changed about the old man. The silver hair and beard were still the same, and the half-moon glasses were still perched on his nose.

Percy finally found his voice and spoke. "Headmaster," he stammered out. "Headmaster Dumbledore." Dumbledore did not seem that surprised to see Percy with his estranged father.

"Good morning Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said pleasantly. He cordially nodded his head and then turned to Arthur Weasley. "Arthur, if you'll come along." Without a backward glance to his son, Arthur walked through the door to one of the meeting rooms. Percy stayed outside, feeling lost and forlorn. His father had not made a move to reconcile with him. His worst fears had been realized: his family did not want to make up with him. They no longer wanted him in their lives.

Percy shook his head. He sniffled a little bit before he reminded himself that it wasn't dignified. Setting his shoulders firmly, Percy swallowed and walked back out into the Ministry of Magic.

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The Pensieve glowed faintly in the darkness of his cell. Its silver light illuminated his hands. Oliver saw his body for the first time in over a month. He was painfully thin and he had cuts all over his hands and arms. His black robes had dark crimson stains on them in random places. "Look here boy," Voldemort's cold voice ordered. "Do you know see what happens to fools who meddle with the Dark Lord?"

Oliver did not want to look but he did anyway; some magic or his own desire to know forced him to look. The Pensieve glowed brighter silver for a second before some figures leapt up out of the deep bowl. The figures were undefined at first, and then their outlines grew sharper and clearer. There were three Death Eaters, easily distinguishable by their dark hoods and robes. The Death Eaters grew larger and larger as did the entire vision or memory. Oliver felt like he was lying on the ground and that the Death Eaters were walking right past him.

The Death Eaters came to a small house. Oliver cried out in horror as he recognized his parent's small house in Scotland. "No! Mum! Da!" Oliver groaned as Voldemort kicked him.

"Watch," Voldemort said in delighted amusement. It came to Oliver that he was seeing this through the eyes of a Death Eater. This was not something that Voldemort had concocted to torment him. This was an actual memory. This nightmare had occurred.

The Death Eaters came into his house. Oliver started to moan in agony as he recognized the familiar kitchen and hallway. He could hear the light chatter. His parents always sat in front of the fireplace before going to bed. The vision glided across the floor. The lead Death Eater pointed his wand at the door. The door effortlessly opened. Oliver saw his parents sitting and talking before-

A shot of green light blasted out of the Death Eaters wand. Oliver could hear the fatal words above his own screaming. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" The vision went back into the Penseive with a flash of bright green light. Oliver was still screaming.

"NOOOO!" he cried out in anguish. "Oh please no! Merlin, no!"

"Be silent!" Voldemort commanded, his amusement suddenly gone like a passing wind. "Stupid boy, be quiet!" Oliver continued to scream and Voldemort lost what little patience he had. "Crucio!" A jet of red light hit Oliver in the stomach. The pain silenced his screams. When Voldemort finally took his wand away Oliver was silent. The only sounds in the quiet room were his rasping sobs.

"Now you know what happens to those who incur the wrath of the Dark Lord," Voldemort said quietly. "Let's see whom you hold most dear among your little friends, eh?" Oliver tried to block his mind but Voldemort's magic was too strong. Images flew out of his mind and swirled around the room, bright and as beautiful as exotic birds.

The images ran across, past and through each other, each a small memory from Oliver. They all blended together in a crescendo of noise and colour, until one stopped. The other visions ceased to exist as this one grew until it took up one wall of the small cell.

It was at Hogwarts, Oliver knew that right when it started. It was near the Quidditch pitch; he could see the bright green grass waving in the sun. he closed his eyes in horror as he heard the familiar voices approach.

"Katie, just try this," George pleaded. "Please darling Kay-tay?" It was Fred and George's pet name for Katie. "It's going to be all right, trust me." He looked innocently at Katie as she looked at the small sweet in his hands. Fred and George smiled evilly as they saw Katie wavering.

"Katie, don't do it," Alicia cautioned. She was walking somewhat apart from Fred, George, Angelina, and Katie. That was the way that she always was. Though she adored the rest of the Quidditch team, she was not quite one of them. "You know what's happened before, don't take it."

"Oh, what harm can it do?" Katie asked before she took the sweet. "Tastes good," she mumbled. Fred and George turned away as they began to snicker. Angelina stared at Katie's forehead in horror. Large pimples had begun to spread all across her forehead and face.

"Oh dear," Oliver heard himself say. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Harry run up and then recoil in horror. Katie began to realize that something was wrong. She brought out a mirror and then screamed. Fred and George turned around and began to run as Katie started chasing after them.

"No, Kay-tay, please!" George cried out as Katie tackled him and began pummeling him. "We have the antidote! We have it right here!" Katie ripped the sweet out his hands and swallowed it. George panted in relief as Katie felt her pimples disappear.

The vision faded into black. "How touchingly disgusting," Voldemort said. "Those juveniles do not deserve to live." He shook his head. "Harry Potter was there. Harry Potter..." he mused to himself. "Do not anger me again, or these too will die."

Voldemort swept out of the cell, leaving Oliver alone. Oliver curled into himself, shaking with sorrow and despair. He could not tell Voldemort what he knew, but he could not refuse to tell him anything at all. He was stuck in a deplorable situation. He just wished that his Mum was there...but she would never be there again...

Oliver began to sob as he realized just how much Voldemort had taken from him.