Disclaimer: I hardly think this is necessary anymore, but here it is. I don't own any characters, places or ideas (except the plot), JKR holds those copyrights. Yay.

Authoress' Note: This story has long been in the works, in fact, I lost it for a while. I don't know how much more I will be motivated to write, maybe if I get some good comments. I'm not too fond of the title as it is; it was only a working title. If you have any ideas for a title head over to my forum and leave me some suggestions, they are greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoy this, and I hope you leave me a comment, even if it just says, "I read it". I like to know that someone is reading it, whether you liked it or not. However, compliments or criticism are also nice. Thanks! Enjoy :-)

WARNING: If reader is prone to crying and/or sniffling during sad or depressing stories, tissues may be required. If in doubt of status, use as a precautionary is recommended.

The Burrow
Chapter 1

"Mum! Dad! We're home!" yelled Ron Weasley sticking his head out of the window of the truck. This dilapidated pick-up was the latest of the magical Weasley cars, bewitched by Fred and George to hold ten people comfortably and easily eight school trunks. Hopefully it would last longer then the Ford Anglia, which he and Harry had unintentionally crashed into the Whomping Willow start of term their second year.

Now in his sixth year, Ron hopped out and helped Fred, George and Harry unload the trunks. It was good to be home he thought; Mrs. Weasley had invited Harry to stay at the Burrow for the first two weeks of summer holiday. A whole two weeks away from school with his friend. Life was good.

Ginny clambered out of the backseat and ran ahead to the house. Ron laughed and watched his fifteen-year-old sister disappear into the kitchen. He hoisted another trunk out of the back, but suddenly he heard Ginny scream and dropped the trunk at the sound. Harry and the twins looked up too and the four of them raced towards the house.

Ron could not believe what he saw. Ginny's knees buckled and the twins grabbed her elbows, pulling her into a hug. Ron felt as though he had been punched in the stomach, hard. On the floor lay Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. There was no question; they were dead.

Molly Weasley was crumpled lifelessly on the floor, Arthur, with his arms over her, as though shielding her until the moment he died. Surveying the scene through eyes already glazing with tears, Ron figured they could not have arrived more then a few minutes after the attack. There was still ice in a glass on the counter and the ink on a piece of parchment had not yet dried. What were they going to do?

Voldemort was still in power. Harry was in danger; the only reason Dumbledore had let Harry visit the Burrow was that he believed that the Weasleys could protect him. Ron's mind raced.

They had to contact Dumbledore, they could not stay here, it was not safe. The attacker could return at any moment. How to reach Dumbledore? Fred and George could not apperate there; Hogwarts was too far for brooms. There were no portkeys for miles…floo powder!

Ron herded everyone over to the fireplace. One by one, they took their powder and disappeared in a burst of emerald flames. He took one last look around the Burrow then stepped into the fireplace, "Hogwarts!"

Not even bothering to brush off the soot, Ron raced through the Great Hall, the rest of the group at his heels. "Dumbledore! Dumbledore!" he yelled, fumbling up the marble staircase. Ron hesitated at the top, unsure of the route to Dumbledore's office. When Ron paused, Harry took over and led the five down a maze of corridors before reaching the familiar stone monument of a great, winged creature.

"Dumbledore!" they all shouted, pounding their fists against the statue.

"Children!" exclaimed a sharp voice, interrupting the attempts at forcing open the magical entry. Five heads turned to see Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor house. "Term is over and most children prefer to spend holiday at home!" she continued. Five people tried to explain at once,

"I was visiting the Burrow-"

"Unloading trunks-"

"Ginny went inside-"

"It's Mum and Dad, they're-"

"DEAD!" Ginny wailed. Professor McGonagall did not waste any time,

"Pickled toads" she strode briskly into the large circular office. Upon spotting the ancient headmaster, several voices collided in an attempt to explain the situation. Suddenly, yet calmly, Dumbledore raised a hand to silence them.

"Now Mr. Weasley," he said to Ron solemnly, on the verge of impatience, "will you please explain to me why you have returned to the school during summer holiday?" Ron stepped forward as Ginny gave a loud hiccupping sob.

"We-uh-went home, to the Burrow…and when we arrived, we found Mum and Dad…well…dead." Ginny gave another moan and sunk into a nearby armchair, followed by a pale McGonagall as she registered what was said.

"Oh dear" Dumbledore said quietly.

"Sir?" Harry asked in almost a whisper, "Where will we go?"

"You Harry, will go straight back to your Aunt and Uncle's. I will send Professor McGonagall to escort you. As for you," he said eyeing the Weasleys, he paused a moment to think then shook his head, "I'll have to find a place for you." All was quiet for a minute. Then Dumbledore drifted to the fireplace and reached for a polished mahogany box containing floo powder. Silently everyone followed and filed into the flames returning them home.

One by one, they stumbled out of the fireplace in a well-known kitchen. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were as they had left them. Ron heard more people arrive behind him and was nearly pleased to see both Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore coughing up ashes behind him. Ron peered out the nearest window to see everything exactly as they left it. Harry's owl, Hedwig, was sitting on a windowsill while his own owl, Pigwidgeon, was fluttering noisily around her head. Owl, Ron thought, I have to tell Bill and Charlie.

Ron rooted around the kitchen for parchment while the others filed out to collect school things. He began to scratch out a letter,

Bill-

Come quick, Mum and Dad are dead

Only then did it hit him, his eyes welled with tears. They splattered onto the parchment blurring the ink. No more crazy storied about Dad's raids, no more embarrassing sweaters at Christmas, no more howlers when he messed up in school, no more motherly hugs before bed at the Burrow…no more Burrow.

Ron crumpled up the tear-stained letter and heaved it at the wall.

"Ron?" Harry said quietly from the door. Ron did not look at him. "I'm really sorry. Your parents, they were the best one's I've ever met. I would have wanted my parents to be like them…real good friends they were, your parents and mine-"

"Save it!" Ron growled through clenched teeth. "Unlike you, I don't want to talk about my dead parents! You know, you never met your dead parents! Funny you can talk of them so casually when you know their dead! Funny you can talk of them so often when you know they'll never speak to you again! You probably think this is swell, us both having dead parents we can talk about! Well guess what! I knew my parents! I remember them! So I don't want to hear it!"

"You know Ron, you're right! I do think this is swell! Now we both have dead parents! All we need to do is kill Hermione's and we'll have one big dead family! No, Ron, I didn't know my parents, you're right about that, but that doesn't mean I don't miss them! Some nights I have almost cried to sleep because the closest thing I can get to my parents are stories! I never got to meet them myself, just hear about how 'wonderful' they were! I don't like this any more then you do, Ron, I am just trying to help!" Fred, George and Dumbledore appeared in the door, each waving a hovering trunk ahead of them. One glace at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Dumbledore urged the group into the living room. With a gesture of his wand, some extra chairs appeared and he motioned them to sit down. Dumbledore began,

"Fred. George. Ron. Ginny. My most sincere sympathy to you. Your parents were the most genuine…" Ron gave and angry shudder and Dumbledore continued, "As I said earlier, Harry will return to the Dursley's. Fred and George, you may continue to your business, but be on your highest guard. Ron and Ginny, as for you…" Dumbledore had nowhere to send them. George got to his feet.

"They'll be coming with us!" he challenged. But Dumbledore was not to argued with,

"You two barely make enough to support yourselves!"

Fred too stood, "Bill or Charlie then?" Dumbledore put his fingers to his temple, as though he had a bad headache. The twins seated themselves, scowling.

"Excuse me," Professor McGonagall spoke for the first time since her arrival, "couldn't they stay at Hogwarts until start of term? Then we can ask someone to take them in." Dumbledore nodded solemnly.

"Of course. Ron, Ginny, pack your things, and say good bye to the Burrow." Ginny began crying uncontrollably and flew up the stairs. Ron heard a door slam somewhere above them. Slowly he rose and climbed the stairs to his tiny attic room. He retrieved another trunk from under his bed and quietly removed the Chuddley Cannon posters from the dingy walls. When he had finished emptying the room of the room of his things, Ron descended to the next floor containing Ginny's room.

"Ginny?" Ron asked entering the room after a light knock on the door. His question was answered with a sniffle from under the quilted coverlet. Ron sat on the edge of his sister's bed. She raised her blotchy cheeks and swollen eyes to him then sank back into her pillow that was wet from crying. Ron stroked her hair, "Ginny, don't worry. Everything will work out. I'll take care of you; I won't let anything happen. We'll stick together. Come on, I'll help you pack." Silently Ginny turned her tear-stained face up toward her big brother and rested her head on his arm; he leaned down to hug her before raising her to a sitting position. Ron retrieved Ginny's trunk and began collecting her belongings.

Before they went their separate ways, a short funeral service was held. The four Weasley children agreed that the garden was the most suitable place. Among the colorful flowers blooming thick and tangled. Ron stood with his hand on Ginny's shoulder. Though she sniveled a lot, she never cried.

After exchanging awkward goodbyes, the group parted. Fred and George disapperated back to their joke shop in Diagon Alley. Harry and Professor McGonagall summoned the Knight Bus to return them to 4 Privet Drive. Finally, Ron, Ginny and Dumbledore reentered the house.

Ron gazed around the Burrow, his favorite place in the world, a place that was above all Quidditch pitches and candy shops, a place that, as far as he knew, he would never see again. As he tried to solidify the Burrow in his memory, he began noticing all the details that made it home: the steadiness of the ticking clock, the careful stitches of the quit draped across the sofa, the patterns made by the sunlight warming the kitchen, the worn spots on the stairs from use by nine pairs of feet. Ron inhaled and recognized the scents of cloves, ashes, wood and biscuits all mingling in the air. He closed his eyes and let the room surround him.

"BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG."

Ron and Ginny jumped and whirled to find Dumbledore with his wand outstretched. The windows suddenly boarded themselves over. A few more bangs echoed through the house, until the only light in the room wormed its way through cracks in the boards. Finally, Dumbledore turned to the door and a quiet click indicated that it was locked.

Returning to the fireplace for the third time that day, the three awkwardly navigated themselves and their trunks to Hogwarts. Upon reaching the Great Hall, the headmaster excused himself to his office. Ron and Ginny made their way to the familiar Gryffindor common room, dragging their trunks behind them. Ron stared around the boys' dormitory. He would have it all to himself for the next two months.

Ron didn't bother to unpack his things and immediately retreated to the Quidditch pitch for time alone. He spent the remainder of the afternoon writing owls to Bill, Charlie, Percy and, after much consideration, Hermione to explain what had happened. When night fell, Ron went to the owlery, sending four owls out with his messages. He returned to the common room to find Ginny waiting with dinner.

"They sent this up from the kitchen," she said. They ate in silence. After dinner, Ginny climbed the stairs to bed, leaving Ron alone in the common room. He moved to a chair in front of the fire and watched the dancing flames. He tried to comprehend the death of his parents but the understanding barely escaped his mind. He didn't even know who did it; he didn't know what he was running from. Everyone could be his enemy. Anyone could have said those forbidden words that stole the life from his parents.

My parents are dead. He thought. My parents are dead…they're dead…dead…He had to say is over and over in his mind, but the meaning was lost before he could grasp it. "My parents are dead," he whispered. "Dead, dead," he said a bit louder. Tears blurred his vision as he repeated it over and over. "Dead, dead, dead, dead," he repeated it until his voice caught in his throat, but he kept mouthing it over and over. "Dead, dead, dead." Tears were pouring down his face and he fell to his knees on the floor in front of the fire. He clenched his hair in his fingers and he crouched over, still mouthing the word. "Dead, dead, dead." He turned his face toward the ceiling and screamed it. "They're dead!" He fell back down rocking and shuddering with sobs until, exhausted of energy, he slipped into sleep.

Authoress' Note: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Remember that I am looking for title suggestions so drop by my forum. Anyone who suggests something will be credited after I choose. Reviews are appreciated! I hope you enjoyed!