With a final jolt, the Knight Bus slid to a painful halt and sixteen year-old Harry Potter lurched forward in his seat, barely managing to keep from falling to the ground.

"Arry Potter, the Burrow," he heard Stan Shupike call from belowdecks.

With a moan, Harry eased himself slowly out of his rickety wooden chair and stumbled to the front of the bus. For the past fifteen minutes, he'd endured a rather painful journey from the Dursley's to the Burrow, his favorite place in the world, (except maybe Hogwarts). His arms and legs protested angrily from their ill treatment; however Harry felt he had nothing to complain about. He was going to stay with the Weasleys, and would see his best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger very soon. Stan nodded to Harry as he stepped out onto a very overgrown yard surrounded by a weathered white fence, and caught sight of a large lopsided house that looked like it had been glued together by an unskilled preschooler. Harry wasn't bothered by the Burrow's untidy appearance though. In fact, he was grinning broadly and gazing about fondly. Behind him, he heard the Knight Bus take off with a loud bang, and his grin widened even more. He was back where he belonged.

Harry had received his wonderful letter that morning while scarfing down the meager remains of the Dursleys' breakfast. Dudley had sauntered casually past the kitchen window when his eyes widened in shock and his double chin quavered. (A feature that he still had despite relentless dieting; Harry supposed it was hereditary, something that greatly amused him.)

"What is it?" Harry had asked curiously.

Dudley couldn't answer, as he was still too shocked to speak. "Owls!" he spluttered. Upon leaning back on two of his chair legs, Harry had looked past Dudley's huge head, and seen a large barn owl staring pointedly at him, an envelope tied to its leg. Before Dudley could do anything (he was still frozen to the spot) Harry had launched himself across to the window, swept the letter off the owl, and sent it on its way, heading to the safety of his bedroom to read it. The letter had read as follows:

Dear Harry,
I am pleased to tell you that you have stayed long enough at the Dursleys' for your mother's protection to take hold. You are being sent to the Burrow to stay with the Weasleys for the rest of the summer. You should be relatively safe there. Have a good summer!
Cordially,
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

And so, here he was, in the Weasleys' front yard, his heart swollen with happiness, his grief over Sirius that had been hounding him (hee hee, like the pun?) all summer momentarily forgotten. All of a sudden, he was shaken out of his euphoric trance by a gleeful yell.

"Oy! Harry!" Ron called as Harry approached the front door, which he had heedlessly banged open at the sight of Harry. The two friends clapped eachother on the back heartily. "Good to see you, mate," Ron said, beaming.

"You too," agreed Harry happily. Much to his relief, Ron had finally stopped growing over the summer, as he was now a good foot taller than Harry. His flaming hair, long nose, gangly legs and arms, and freckles were also the the same as ever.

"So how was your summer? Bet Dudley was the usual perfect companion," Ron said sarcastically, as they entered the Weasleys' kitchen, with its marvelous clock. Ron's hand currently pointed to home, while Mr. Weasley's, Fred and George's, Bill, Charlie's, and Percy's pointed at work, and Ginny's pointed to "away."

" 'Course," nodded Harry in a seemingly serious manner. "Charming as ever." He and Ron both sniggered loudly, but were interrupted by the sound of Mrs. Weasley's voice.

"Harry! Oh, Harry!" Harry was somewhat alarmed as Mrs. Weasley pulled him into a suffocating hug. He grimaced at Ron, who said quickly:

"Er--mum, geroff...mum, you're squashing him!" He said finally. Mrs. Weasley pulled away reluctantly.

"Yes, Ronnie, I suppose you're right. I'm sorry, Harry dear," amended Mrs. Weasley absently.

"It's all right," Harry said hastily. Behind her, Ron gagged at the nickname.

"But it's so good to see you! I hate to think of you holed up with those--those--people all summer." Mrs. Weasley caught herself before she said something offensive about the Dursleys in front of Harry, who would have enjoyed it thoroughly. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Thanks mum. Anyway, Harry, let's go up to my room!" Ron said forcefully.

"Oh all right, boys. But make sure you're down here on time for supper, mind you!" She called after them as Harry nodded and followed Ron up the narrow crooked stairway.

"Had to get you away from mum before she turned all emotional on us," Ron announced quietly once they were out of earshot. "She's been that way a lot lately...you know, what with the stress on Dad at the Ministry--it's a hectic time there, now that Fudge has finally worked out that (he lowered his voice) He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back," he scoffed. Harry rolled his eyes at his friend's unwillingness to say Voldemort's name. Ron ignored him. "And, well, Percy still isn't talking to us. The great git." He finished contemptuously.

"Percy still won't talk to you? After he finds out that he's wrong and you and the rest of your family are right?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Yup," answered Ron grimly.

"Wow," said Harry softly. The two passed into a gloomy silence as they continued to trudge up the stairs. Harry couldn't believe that Percy could be so stupid, or so lame. Why, he, Harry, and Fudge himself, had seen Voldemort in the Atrium that day, when--no, don't think about that, Harry told himself firmly. Hot tears rose unbidden to his eyes and threatened to leak out. Harry rubbed them away furiously. He would not let himself cry in front of Ron, who shot him a worried glance.

"You all right mate?"

"I'm--fine," said Harry tersely. As if he wanted to talk about Sirius! Ron said nothing more after that. Perhaps he thought it better if Harry were left alone for the time being, which was a wise choice. Harry was in such a state of grief that he was ready to lash out at anyone, anything, given the chance. The wound in his heart where Sirius had been had briefly healed when he saw Ron, but now it felt as though salt had been rubbed deep down into it, and he felt he would burst with pain. So he and Ron kept ascending in a silent, brooding way, until suddenly they reached an old oak door with a tarnished nameplate that read: RONALD'S ROOM. As they stepped inside, Harry suddenly remembered something. When Ron hadn't said Voldemort's name, Harry had been strongly reminded of how Hermione said Voldemort's name without any fear now, and how proud of her he was because of this. She wasn't here.

"Ron, where's Hermione?"

"Dunno," said Ron, frowning. "She was supposed to be here about 3 hours ago--Mum was in a right state a few minutes before you got here."

"Really?"

"Yeah, she went to Switzerland to go on that ski trip with her parents that she never got to finish...she must be really high up in those mountains to get some snow to ski on! I mean, skiing in the summer?" He laughed. "Muggles do weird things."

"Well, it is really cold there...I hope she's okay," said Harry thoughtfully.

"Yeah...said Ron. "I say no worries, though, Hermione's too clever to get herself into any kind of trouble. C'mon, Harry, how 'bout a good old game of wizard's chess?"

"Okay," sighed Harry, though he found himself still fretting over Hermione. She was usually very punctual, it wasn't like her to be late. Not to mention three hours late! He tried not to let the worry show on his face though, and seated himself opposite Ron, who already had the game board out.

1 hour later
"Castle to E-5!" Commanded Ron, who had a smug smile on his face.

"Don't look so pleased with yourself, mate," said Harry, smiling. "I've got a good m--"

"Harry! Ron!" called a harried-sounding Mrs. Weasley. "Come down here, you two. There's something I have to tell you!"

"Coming!" yelled Ron, giving Harry a perplexed look. Harry shrugged.

"I had a great move coming up, too," he said regretfully as they hurried downstairs and into the kitchen, where they found a very distraught Mrs. Weasley. Her eyes were red and her hands were shaking. Ron and Harry looked at eachother nervously. This news wasn't going to be pleasant at all.

"Mum, what--" began Ron puzzledly. Mrs. Weasley fiddled with her worn white apron and couldn't seem to bring herself to meet their eyes.

"It's--it's, oh...I'm so sorry...something's happened to Hermione."

"WHAT!" Harry and Ron shouted simultaneously. Harry's worst fear had come true. The well of despair opened up inside him again, and he felt as though he were drowning in its depths.

"Yes..." Mrs. Weasley was on the verge of tears. The Grangers just notified Dumbledore and me through Muggle mail. Apparently she took a very rough tumble while skiing on some high mountain in the Alps. And--" Harry interrupted.

"Hermione isn't...dead?" He asked weakly.

Well...what did you think? This is my first story. Please review this, I'm interested to hear what you readers have got to say.