The moment the reports started coming in, Molly Weasley began to write letters to all of her children, frantic to know that they are all right. Her beloved clock wasn’t being any help at all, its hands staying stubbornly fixed upon Mortal Peril.

Arthur was at work, and busier than he had ever been, and her children were scattered everywhere… what was she supposed to do? What could she do, other than wait for word, or instructions from the Order?

She stares at her clock again, and sips her tea, praying that none of the hands moves over to Lost.