CHAPTER THREE:

Third Person P.O.V.:

Charlie followed the distant voices to the bottom of the steps and through a door leading into the basement kitchen.

It was scarcely less gloomy than the hall above, a cavernous room with rough stone walls. Most of the light was coming from a large fire at the far end of the room. A haze of pipe smoke hung in the air like battle fumes, through which loomed the menacing shapes of heavy iron pots and pans hanging from the dark ceiling.

Many chairs had been crammed into the room for the meeting and a long wooden table stood in the middle of them, littered with rolls of parchment, goblets, and empty wine bottles. Everyone was gathered within the medium-sized room; some were helping Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen, while the others sat around the table.

"Charlie!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed as she acknowledged his presence in the room from the stove, "there you are, dear! What took you so long?"

The brown eyed boy had been forced to hide a playful smile as he looked to his girlfriend. Hermione looked at him from her spot at the table with a bashful smirk before lowering her head, her face turning pink. Ginny seemed to be the only one in the room to notice this interaction, and she instantly had a look of knowing plastered on her face.

(A/N: might just be my fav gif of all time...)

"I, uh," Charlie stuttered, forcing his gaze away from Hermione as he moved to sit across from her, next to Ron and Harry, "had to use the restroom — what'd I miss?"

He tried changing the subject as quickly as possible to refrain from people asking questions. Luckily for him, Fred and George had bewitched a large cauldron of stew, an iron flagon of Butterbeer and a heavy wooden breadboard, complete with knife, to hurtle through the air towards them in attempt to help their mother set the table.

The stew skidded the length of the table and came to a halt just before the end, leaving a long black burn on the wooden surface; the flagon of Butterbeer fell with a crash, spilling its contents everywhere; the bread knife slipped off the board and landed, point down and quivering ominously, exactly where Sirius's right hand had been seconds before.

"FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!" screamed Mrs Weasley. "THERE WAS NO NEED — JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC NOW, IT DOES NOT MEAN YOU HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERYTHING!"

"We were just trying to save a bit of time!" said Fred, hurrying forward to wrench the bread knife off of the table.

Sirius was laughing; Mad-Eye Moody, who had toppled backwards off his chair, was swearing as he got to his feet; Crookshanks had given an angry hiss and shot off under a cabinet as Ludo tried to lick up the food off of the floor.

"Boys," Mr. Weasley said, lifting the stew back into the middle of the table, "your mother's right, you're supposed to show a sense of responsibility now you've come of age —"

"None of your brothers caused this sort of trouble!" Mrs. Weasley raged at the twins as she slammed a fresh flagon of Butterbeer on to the table, almost spilling it all over again. "Bill didn't feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Jack didn't charm everything he met! And Percy —"

She stopped dead, catching her breath with a frightened look at her husband, whose expression was suddenly blank. The entire room went quiet, and everyone had shared at least one awkward glance with someone sitting across the room.

"Let's eat," said Ron quickly, wanting to hastily change the subject.

For a few minutes there was silence, except for the chink of plates and cutlery and the scraping of chairs as everyone settled down at the table. Harry, deciding it was best to interrupt the tension-filled silence, turned to Charlie who was sat beside him.

"Sirius was telling me that this used to be his childhood home," he said simply, but added on once he got the idea that his friend had no idea what he was talking about, "that's what you missed."

"Oh?" Charlie raised a brow, "And what provoked that conversation?"

"Harry had the pleasure of encountering my dear old mum," Sirius explained with a chuckle from the head of the table. "And she seemed to make quite the nasty impression as she normally tends to do."

Charlie stifled a laugh.

Walburga Black was a member of the traditionalist pure-blood House of Black, who looked down on any except other 'respectable' pure-blood wizards and believed in pure-blood supremacy. When she died in 1985, Walburga's portrait remained magically fixed to a wall in the hallway. The portrait showed an insane old woman, prone to screaming insults at anyone who disturbed the portrait, particularly that of non-pure-bloods.

"She's quite the charmer," Charlie said sarcastically to which Sirius smiled widely.

(A/N: Harry as James... Charlie as Sirius... Hermione as Remus... Ron as Peter — thoughts? 👀)

Three helpings of rhubarb crumble and custard later and the waistband on Charlie's jeans was feeling uncomfortably tight. The last hour or so as he, Harry, Hermione, Sirius, Tonks, Lupin, Moody, and the Weasleys engaged in a hearty meal, was a relief for Charlie — after such a toxic upbringing from his father, moments like these were precious to him.

As he laid down his spoon there was a lull in the general conversation: Mr. Weasley was leaning back in his chair, looking replete and relaxed; Tonks was yawning widely, after spending the last hour transforming her nose into different animals for entertainment; and Ginny who had lured Crookshanks out from under the cabinet, was sitting cross-legged on the floor, rolling Butterbeer corks for him and Ludo to chase.

"Nearly time for bed, I think," said Mrs. Weasley with a yawn.

"Not just yet, Molly," said Sirius, pushing away his empty plate and turning to look at Harry. "You know, I'm surprised at you. I thought the first thing you'd do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort."

The atmosphere in the room changed quickly. Charlie and Hermione shared a glance from across the table at one another as though they could each other's thoughts — the rapidity of the change of topic was instantaneous. Seconds before, everything had been sleepily relaxed, and now, it was alert. A frisson had gone around the table at the mention of Voldemort's name. Lupin, who had been about to take a sip of wine, lowered his goblet slowly, looking wary.

"I did!" said Harry indignantly. "I asked Charlie, Ron and Hermione but they said we're not allowed in the Order, so —"

"And they're quite right," Mrs. Weasley said sharply. "You're too young."

She was sitting bolt upright in her chair, her fists clenched on its arms, every trace of drowsiness gone. Charlie sank into his seat, already dreading this conversation. Even though it hadn't happened that long ago, the boy longed for a day like the one he had spent with Hermione — sometimes, it was nice to be normal...

"Since when did someone have to be in the Order to ask questions?" asked Sirius with a furrowed brow. "Harry's been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He's got the right to know what's been happen. They all do! Charlie almost died —"

"Can we stop mentioning that? I don't need the constant reminder," Hermione said in a quiet, saddened whisper as she lowered her head. Charlie, of course, seemed to notice this as he resisted the urge to comfort his girlfriend and risk exposing their relationship —

"Hang on!" interrupted George loudly, ignoring Hermione's remark.

"How come Harry gets his questions answered?" said Fred angrily.

"We've been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven't told us a single thing!" said George, clearly fuming. "That's not fair! Harry isn't even of age!"

"It's not my fault you haven't been told what the Order's doing," said Sirius calmly, "that's your parents' decision. Harry, on the other hand —"

"It's not up to you to decide what's good for Harry! Or any of these children for that matter!" said Mrs. Weasley sharply. The expression on her normally kind face looked dangerous. "You haven't forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?"

"Which bit?" Sirius asked politely, but with the aura of a man readying himself for a fight.

"The bit about not telling them more than they need to know," said Mrs. Weasley, placing a heavy emphasis on the last three words.

Charlie, Ron, Hermione, Fred and George's heads swivelled from Sirius to Mrs. Weasley as though they were following a tennis rally. Ginny was kneeling amid a pile of abandoned Butterbeer corks, watching the conversation with her mouth slightly open. Lupin's eyes were fixed on Sirius. Moody leaned on his cane in the corner. Tonks was startled. Mr. Weasley looked uneasy.

"I don't intend to tell them more than they need to know, Molly," said Sirius with a tightly closed smile. "But as Harry and Charlie were the ones to see Voldemort return," — again, there was a collective shudder around the table at the name — "they have more of a right to —"

"They are not members of the Order of the Phoenix!" shouted Mrs. Weasley, slamming her fists on the table causing everyone to jump. "Ron, Harry, Charlie, and Hermione are only fifteen and —"

"— and have dealt with just as much as most in the Order." Sirius said through gritted teeth.

"No one's denying what they've done!" said Mrs Weasley, her voice rising, her fists trembling on the surface of the table. "But they're still —"

"They're not children, Molly," said Sirius impatiently.

''They're not adults either!" said Mrs. Weasley, the colour rising in her cheeks.

"Personally," interjected Lupin quietly, looking away from Sirius at last, as Mrs. Weasley turned quickly to him, hopeful that finally she was about to get an ally, "I think it's best that the children get the facts — not all the facts, mind you, but the general picture."

"Well," said Mrs. Weasley, breathing deeply and looking around the table for support that did not come, "I can see I'm going to be overruled. I'll just say this... Dumbledore must have had his reasons for not wanting the children to know too much, or else he would have told them himself, especially his own grandson!"

"It's not up to you to decide what's good for Charlie." Sirius said flatly, using Molly's own words against her. "He's not your son."

"He might as well be," Mrs. Weasley said fiercely, "and if Julia were here, she would —"

"Okay! That's enough, please," Charlie pleaded sadly, and everyone's heads immediately turned towards him.

Mrs. Weasley's lower lip was trembling upon realization that she had gone too far, "Oh, Charlie dear, I'm so sorry —"

"It's fine," the boy said at once; he tried shrugging it off, but he had to admit, the mention of his mother did upset him. Regardless, he looked around the room, avoiding direct eye contact as he said, "We want to know what's going on."

"Very well," said Mrs. Weasley, her voice cracking slightly. "Ginny — Ron — Hermione — Fred — George — I want you out of this kitchen, now."

There was instant uproar.

"We're of age!" Fred and George bellowed together.

"If Harry and Charlie are allowed, why can't I?" shouted Ron.

"Mum, I want to hear!" wailed Ginny.

"NO!" shouted Mrs. Weasley, standing up, her eyes overbright. "I absolutely forbid —"

"Molly, you can't stop Fred and George," said Mr. Weasley wearily. "They are of age."

"They're still at school —"

"But they're legally adults now," said Mr. Weasley, in the same tired voice.

Mrs. Weasley was now scarlet in the face.

"I — oh, all right then, Fred and George can stay, but Ron —"

"Might as well let him stay too," Moody growled from the corner, shocking everyone upon hearing his voice for the first time. "Both Potter and Hawthorne are sure to tell him and Granger everything anyway."

"Fine!" shouted Mrs Weasley. "Fine! Ginny — BED!"

Ginny did not go quietly. They could hear her raging and storming at her mother all the way up the stairs, and when she reached the hall Mrs. Black's ear-splitting shrieks were added to the din. Lupin hurried off to the portrait to restore calm. It was only after he had returned, closing the kitchen door behind him and taking his seat at the table again, that Sirius spoke.

"What do you want to know?"

"Where's Voldemort?" Harry said at once, ignoring the renewed shudders and winces at the name. "What's he doing?"

"He's hiding," Sirius said flatly. "He doesn't want to draw attention to himself. It would be dangerous for him. His comeback didn't come off quite the way he wanted it to, you see. He messed it up."

"Or rather, you two messed it up for him," Lupin said towards Harry and Charlie with a satisfied smile.

"How?" Harry asked, perplexed.

"Well," Lupin began, but gave Charlie a mindful look before continuing. "You weren't supposed to survive. Nobody apart from his Death Eaters was supposed to know he'd come back, but you two survived to bear witness."

"Yeah, just barely," Charlie muttered, a shiver sending a chill down his spine as he recalled his time in the graveyard, but as he caught Hermione staring at him intently, he focused back on Sirius.

"You see," Sirius began, "the last person You-Know-Who wanted to alert was Dumbledore..."

Harry pressed on, "So, what's Voldemort's plan?"

"He's building up his army again," Sirius explained, "just like before."

Charlie raised a brow, "And you're stopping him from gaining more followers?"

"We're doing our best," Lupin sighed, "but it's proving to be quite difficult..."

Sirius nodded, "You see, the Ministry of Magic is insisting that You-Know-Who isn't back."

The brown eyed boy gulped — it all came back to his father, of course. It made sense as to why for Charlie, but the Order had no idea...

"But, why?" Harry asked in disbelief.

Lupin sighed again, raising his hands in a shrug, "The Minister thinks that Dumbledore is after his job."

"That's insane," said Harry incredulously, "no one in their right mind —"

"Exactly the point though, Harry," Charlie said with a clenched jaw, everyone's eyes finding him again. "My father isn't in his right mind — nor has he ever been. You see, my father likes being the Minister. His mind is corrupted by pride. He'll deny You-Know-Who's return if it means that he gets to keep his position in power. Hell, I'm sure he'll do anything to make sure people don't know the truth..."

He trailed off towards the end as the cruel reality of what he was saying set in. No one could ever know, but the truth Charlie was referring to had a double-meaning. His father wasn't just denying Voldemort's return because he liked being the Minister... he was denying it because he was the Dark Lord's most loyal follower...

"But you're telling people, aren't you?" said Harry, shifting his gaze back to Mr. Weasley, Sirius, Moody, Lupin and Tonks. "You're letting people know he's back?"

They all smiled humourlessly.

"Well," said Sirius restlessly, "as everyone thinks I'm a mad mass-murderer and the Ministry's put a ten thousand Galleon price on my head, I can't exactly stroll up the street and start handing out leaflets, can I?"

"And I'm not a very popular dinner guest with most of the community," said Lupin flatly. "It's an occupational hazard of being a werewolf."

Moody grunted, "And I'm mad as a hatter. No one's believing me, laddie."

"Not to mention, Tonks and Arthur would lose their jobs at the Ministry if they started shooting their mouths off," said Sirius, "and it's very important for us to have spies inside the Ministry, because you can bet Voldemort will have them."

Charlie gulped nervously. It was like Merlin himself was providing every opportunity for the brown eyed boy to reveal his father's evil intentions, but still, he remained silent. There were too many lives at stake for such a big reveal, and his selfless backbone wouldn't allow him to put anyone in danger...

"But Dumbledore is doing all he can," Lupin said, trying to ease the children's worries.

Mr. Weasley scoffed, "If he carries on defying the Ministry like this he'll end up in Azkaban, and the last thing we need is Dumbledore locked up. That'll just give You-Know-Who a clear field."

For the first time, Hermione had piped up from across the table, "A clear field for what exactly?"

"You-Know-Who wants something," Sirius said ominously, peering at each of the kids. "Something he didn't have before."

"Like a weapon?" Ron inquired.

Charlie raised a brow, "Surely it can't be worse than an Unforgivable Curse —"

"That's enough!"

Mrs. Weasley spoke from the shadows beside the door causing everyone to jump slightly. Neither of them had noticed her return after taking Ginny upstairs. Her arms were crossed and she looked furious.

"Time for bed," she said sharply, "all of you!"

Fred laughed, "You can't boss us —"

Mrs. Weasley whipped her head towards her son with a frightening glare, "Watch me."

Molly was shaking with anger as she turned back around to look at Sirius, "You've given them plenty of information. Any more and you might just as well induct them into the Order straightaway."

"Fine by me," Harry said at once, "if Voldemort is raising an army then I want to fight."

"No," Lupin said flatly to which everyone was shocked. "There are dangers involved of which you can have no idea, any of you... I think Molly's right, Sirius. We've said enough."

Sirius shrugged but did not argue. Mrs. Weasley beckoned imperiously to her children, Hermione, Charlie, and Harry. One by one they stood up and headed for the door. However, just as the brown eyed boy was about to leave, he stopped upon hearing Mr. Weasley's voice.

"Uh, Charlie," he stuttered nervously, and Charlie turned back around; Harry, Hermione, and Ron all stopped to wait for him.

"Yes?" Charlie said, slightly confused.

"I almost forgot," Arthur said softly, avoiding the gaze of his wife who had been watching him with a glare, "you are to accompany me when I take Harry for his trial."

Charlie furrowed his brows, "What? Why?"

"Dunno," Arthur said at once, "but your father... he's requested for you to be there."

"Of course," Charlie spat angrily towards the floor.

Then, without saying another word, he turned on his heel, and pushed his way passed his friends in the doorway. Hermione was quick to follow after him, but to her surprise, her boyfriend had chosen to hurry off to bed without further questioning.

——————————————

The next morning, Charlie reported for his morning duties of cleaning 12 Grimmauld Place as he always did. However, as Fred, George, Ginny, Hermione, Ron, and Harry had been volunteered by Mrs. Weasley to help with the dead puffskein nest under the sofa, Charlie had opted for the alone time that he'd spend going upstairs to feed Buckbeak.

The hippogriff had been staying at Headquarters since Sirius had arrived, you see. The fantastic beast was residing in Sirius's late mother's bedroom for the time being, and Charlie, after spending countless summers assisting Hagrid with his magical creatures, had been taking good care of Buckbeak while he stayed with them.

Charlie swung a bloodstained bag of dead rats over his shoulder as he walked up to the top floor of the house, failing to acknowledge that his girlfriend watched him curiously as he did so — Hermione noticed that he had became significantly quieter since the previous evening.

Unaware of Hermione's worries, Charlie found himself in Mrs. Black's bedroom within a matter of moments. Buckbeak had stretched and stood as the boy walked into the room. The majestic beast fluttered its feathers towards him before lowering its head.

The brown eyed boy smiled softly before walking over and bowing before the hippogriff. After a moment or two, Charlie raised his hand to the top of Buckbeak's and caressed it, to which the hybrid beast nuzzled into his hand — Buckbeak did always like Charlie.

"Morning Beaky," Charlie in a low tone as he reached his hand into the bag, pulled out a dead rat, and fed it to the hippogriff.

Charlie spent a good amount of time in that room that morning. He took his time when it came to feeding Buckbeak, mainly because he felt as though he needed his time alone with his thoughts. The truth was, his father requesting him to go to Harry's trial had set him on edge. He hadn't seen his father since that night in the hospital wing, but Fenwick made sure to remain as aggressive and as menacing as ever before.

His father was nothing but a nightmare for the boy now. Charlie couldn't acknowledge him as anything but something that haunted his thoughts constantly. There were so many questions left unanswered, and yet, Charlie couldn't find the courage to search for answers. He had been keeping his father's secret as though it was a weight on his shoulders, and his biggest fear was not having the strength to hold it together.

One word from his mouth, and everything could come crashing down. As much as Charlie tried to repress the fact that his father was a monster, it consumed his thoughts, his dreams, and his memories. His mind was like a boggart, always projecting his greatest fears on a never-ending cycle in his head, and each time someone different died at the hands of his father...

The truth was, he was suffering from severe post-traumatic stress. Meaning that his nightmares weren't always exact replays of the events that he had gone through, but of the emotions he had felt; fear, helplessness, pain, and even sadness. His insides were crying out for help, but no one would ever notice. As far as anyone was concerned, from the outside, Charlie Hawthorne just seemed quieter and a little more tired, which at this point in his life, would just be assumed to be teenage hormones.

And quite frankly, Charlie didn't want anyone to know. If they ever found out what was truly going on inside of his head, they would ask questions, and questions would lead to answers he could never give. So instead, the brown eyed boy woke up every morning, prepared to fight the same demons that left him so tired the night before, and he would call himself brave when he knew that he was broken —

(A/N: why am I crying...? like this poor kid omfg...)

"Are you okay?"

Hermione's voice caused him to jump slightly. He had been so consumed in his thoughts, that he had lost all sense of everything going on around him — he hadn't even heard his girlfriend enter the room.

Upon noticing her boyfriend's startled state, Hermione's face had fallen. She quickly turned to look out at the empty corridor, making sure no one was nearby, before she closed the door behind her. Then, she walked over to Charlie and wrapped her arms around him, and he, dropping the bag in his hand, had melted into her arms, burying his head into the crook of her neck.

They stood there for a moment, and it was as if the silent hug was the only thing that needed to be said. It amazed Charlie, to say the least, that Hermione was so quick to know whenever something was wrong with him. It was if the slightest crack in his smile or a specific look in his eye would tell her everything she needed to know...

"What's going on?" Hermione whispered, pulling back to gaze into his eyes, her hands on either side of his face, "Talk to me — what is it?"

Charlie breathed out slowly, trying to avoid her gaze by glancing at Buckbeak who was curdled up on the floor, "Nothing. I'm fine. Just a little tired —"

"No, don't do that," Hermione dismissed, forcing him to look at her once again, "don't lie to me. Tell me the truth. Is this about your father? Or about You-Know-Who?"

"Yes," Charlie said shakily, but before Hermione could press on, he quickly saved himself by divulging in a half-truth, "I've been having these flashes... nightmares... of when Harry and I were in the graveyard. It's as if that night is haunting me..."

"But you're safe now, Charlie," Hermione soothed with a calm voice, "you know that, don't you? You can't let your fear corrupt your mind —"

"I don't know how to stop it," Charlie said sadly, and his head fell to the floor, but Hermione was quick to put her hand under his chin and raise his head to meet her gaze again.

"Yes, you do," Hermione said reassuringly, resting her head against his, "take back control, baby. You have to train your mind to be stronger than your emotions, or else you'll lose yourself every time; what consumes your mind, controls your life. So, whenever you feel that fear creeping in, think about something else; something that comforts you in your moment of vulnerability."

Charlie thought for a moment. Without knowing it, Hermione had solved all of the problems that corrupted his head. His girlfriend's words striking him deep within as though they were an answer to a question he had yet to ask — nothing has power over you, unless you give it that power...

"Think about Quidditch," Hermione suggested with a smile as she saw her boyfriend's eyes begin to sparkle like they always did. "Or about running around with Ludo on the school grounds. Think about meeting Harry and Ron for the first time. Or about your bond with your grandfather. Think about —"

"You," Charlie said softly to which Hermione smiled bashfully. "I'm going to think about you."

Hermione blushed, "That works too, I guess."

Charlie smiled widely for the first time since the previous evening before he captured Hermione's lips with his own. It was no secret that whenever the brown eyed boy pictured himself at his happiest, he would always be by Hermione's side. She was the reason his world had peace; she was his happiness.

He had completely fallen for this girl. Everything she says, everything she does, and everything that she is, had an indescribable effect on Charlie. To keep his sanity, Hermione Granger would be his first thought in the morning, his last thought before he fell asleep, and almost everything else in between. This is what love felt like, but Charlie didn't know how to put it into words —

"I like you a lot," he whispered against her lips as they pulled away from one another.

Hermione simply smiled to herself. Being with Charlie was everything she'd hoped it would be. Despite all of his flaws, she loved him in every way possible, and the day that she would discover that he loved her just the same, would be the happiest day of her life.

"I'm here for you, okay?" she said softly, "Always."

Charlie nodded, and for the first time in a long time, he was reminded that he wasn't in alone. His mind was clear, and his focus was entirely on the girl stood in front of him. However, as he went to relish in the moment alone with his girlfriend, a house-elf edged into the room, causing them to jump apart from one another.

Acting as though it could not see them, it shuffled hunchbacked, slowly and doggedly, towards the far end of the room, all the while muttering under its breath in a hoarse, deep voice, "...nasty old blood traitor with her brats messing up my mistress's house, oh, my poor mistress, if she knew, if she knew the scum they've let into her house, what would she say to old Kreacher, oh, the shame of it, Mudbloods and werewolves and traitors and thieves, poor old Kreacher, what can he do..."

"Hello, Kreacher," Charlie said loudly.

The house-elf froze in his tracks, stopped muttering, and gave a very pronounced and very unconvincing start of surprise.

"Kreacher did not see Young Master," he said, turning around and bowing to Charlie. Still lacing the carpet, he added, perfectly audibly, "Nasty and corrupted blood-traitor..."

"Sorry?" Charlie said through a jaw that was now clenched, "Want to repeat that? Didn't quite catch that last bit."

"Kreacher said nothing," said the elf, and Hermione had to step in front of Charlie to calm him down by caressing his arm gently.

"It's okay," she whispered reassuringly, and she turned to the house-elf who began to clean up the area around Buckbeak. "How are you, Kreacher?"

Kreacher's pale eyes widened and he muttered faster and more furiously than ever.

"The Mudblood is talking to Kreacher as though she is my friend, if Kreacher's mistress saw him in such company, oh, what would she say —"

"Don't you dare call her a Mudblood!" spat Charlie angrily, clenching his fists.

"Charlie, please," Hermione pleaded, facing him again. "He's not right in his head. He doesn't know what he's —"

"Don't kid yourself, 'Mione, he knows exactly what he's saying," Charlie said, finishing her sentence for her as he eyed Kreacher with great dislike.

Hermione sighed, recognizing that there was no point in arguing, before she linked one her hands with Charlie's and pulled him towards the door.

"...nasty little Mudblood and a filthy blood-traitor, Mistress would roll over in her grave at the sight. Oh, my poor mistress, what would she say if she saw the house now, scum living in it..."

"You're so damn lucky that we can't kick you out, Kreacher," shouted Charlie irritably as Hermione led him out into the hallway, closing the door behind them.

"It's okay," Hermione said with a soft smile.

Charlie huffed, "No, it's not. He can't call you things like that, especially not in front of —"

Hermione had silenced her boyfriend with another quick peck on the lips.

As she pulled back, she smiled up at him when she saw the angry expression instantly removed from his face.

"As much as I appreciate you defending me," she said softly against his lips, "we have bigger problems than supremacist house-elves."

Charlie nodded reluctantly, and leaned in for another kiss that would have to hold him off until the next time he got his girlfriend alone. Hermione giggled into the kiss as she wrapped her arms around his neck to deepen it further. Their kisses, as of late, had been incredibly more passionate and hungry, but neither of them were complaining.

In fact, Charlie was seconds away from whisking Hermione to an empty room for a snog session when suddenly, there were hurried footsteps coming up the steps. The two love-sick teenagers jumped away from each other once again, just in time for Ron to meet them in the hallway.

"There you guys are," he said exasperatedly, but he raised a brow as he noticed their flustered faces. "What were you two doing?"

"Hermione was helping me with Buckbeak," Charlie said at once, trying to avoid suspicion. "Kreacher came in, and him and I got into a bit of a row — why? What did you think we were doing?"

"Who bloody knows what you two are up to anymore," Ron muttered in a tone that Charlie couldn't decipher. "Always sneaking off, just the two of you, isn't that right?"

Charlie raised a confused brow, "What exactly are you implying?"

"Nothing," Ron said bitterly, but his face softened as he turned to Hermione. "Can I get your help downstairs? Mum found some spiders lurking in the dresser."

"Sure," Hermione said softly, trying to diffuse the obvious tension between the two boys. She turned to her boyfriend, "Come with us, won't you, Charlie?"

Charlie broke the intense eye contact with Ron as he turned to smile down to Hermione, "Of course."

With that, Hermione pulled Charlie down the stairs. Both of them unaware that Ron was sending glares at the back of their heads as he followed behind them...

——————————————

After about a week of nonstop cleaning, Charlie awoke at half-past five on a Thursday morning as abruptly as if somebody had yelled in his ear. For a few moments he lay immobile as the prospect of the disciplinary hearing that he and Harry were to attend today had filled every tiny particle of his brain, then, unable to bear it, he leapt out of bed.

Mrs. Weasley had laid out freshly laundered clothes for him and Harry on the edge of their beds. Charlie scrambled into a white dress shirt, black pants, boots, and paired it with a beige jumper.

Harry was already awake and down in the kitchen as his bed laid empty, but Ron was lying sprawled on his back with his mouth wide open, fast asleep. He did not stir as Charlie crossed the room, stepped out on to the landing and closed the door softly behind him. The brown eyed boy walked down the stairs, past the heads of Kreacher's ancestors, and down into the kitchen.

He pushed open the door and saw Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Harry, Sirius, Lupin, and Tonks sitting there almost as though they were waiting for him. All were fully dressed except Mrs. Weasley, who was wearing a quilted purple dressing gown. She leapt to her feet the moment Charlie entered.

"Breakfast," she said as she pushed a plate in front of the boy as he sat down. "What do you want, Charlie? Porridge? Muffins? Kippers? Bacon and eggs? Toast?"

"Just toast, thanks," Charlie muttered before looking over to Harry, "How are you feeling?"

Harry shrugged.

"It'll all be over soon," Mr. Weasley said bracingly. "In a few hours' time you'll be cleared."

"The hearing will probably be in Amelia Bones's office. She's Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Charlie explained.

"Amelia Bones is alright, Harry," Tonks comforted. "She's fair, she'll hear you out."

Harry nodded, still unable to think of anything to say.

"Don't lose your temper," said Sirius abruptly. "Be polite and stick to the facts."

Charlie watched as his friend nodded again, but deep down he knew that Harry always did have a hard time controlling his anger —

"The law's on your side," said Lupin quietly. "Even underage wizards are allowed to use magic in life-threatening situations."

Mr. Weasley checked his watch before looking up at the two young boys, "I think we better go now."

Charlie and Harry shared a uneasy look from across the table before the rose to their feet, said their goodbyes, and walked to the door behind Mr. Weasley, following him out into the cold, grey dawn.

They were forced to walk, given what Harry was being disciplined for. The run-down streets were almost deserted, but when they arrived at the miserable little underground station they found it already lull of early-morning commuters. Despite, Mr. Weasley's fascination with the Muggles passing by, Charlie and Harry managed to steer him in the right direction, and five minutes later they were boarding an underground train that rattled them off towards the centre of London.

After the train ride, they emerged on to a broad street lined with imposing-looking buildings and already full of traffic. The further they walked, the smaller and less imposing the buildings became, until finally they reached a street that contained several rather shabby-looking offices, a pub and an overflowing skip.

"There," Charlie said quietly, pointing at an old red telephone box, which was missing several panes of glass and stood before a heavily graffitied wall.

The three of them piled inside the small space, and Mr. Weasley closed the door behind them. It was a tight fit, but before Harry could protest either Charlie or Mr. Weasley about what was happening, his brown eyed friend had reached past him to grab the receiver.

Charlie said nothing as he set the numbers on the dial; six, two, four, four, two. As the dial whirred smoothly back into place, a cool female voice sounded inside the telephone box, not from the receiver in the boy's hand, but as loudly and plainly as though an invisible woman were standing right beside them.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Er..." said Mr. Weasley, clearly uneasy. "Arthur Weasley, Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, here to escort Charlie Hawthorne and Harry Potter, who has been asked to attend a disciplinary hearing..."

The floor of the telephone box shuddered. Soon enough, they were sinking slowly into the ground. Charlie watched through unbothered eyes as the pavement seemed to rise up past the glass windows until darkness closed over their heads. After about a minute, a chink of golden light illuminated Charlie's feet and rose up his body, until it hit him in the face and he had to blink to stop his eyes watering.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day."

"Let's go," Charlie muttered, leading the way through the Ministry workers before they got the chance to realize who it was. The three of them made their way through security, and hurried on their way through the Ministry, despite Harry's mouth that hung open the entire way.

Jostled slightly by the crowd, Harry followed Mr. Weasley and Charlie through a gate into a smaller hall beyond, where at least twenty lifts stood behind wrought golden grilles. They joined the crowd around one of them.

Charlie kept his head down as they waited for the lift, already dreading everything that was to become of this day. With a great jangling and clattering a lift descended in front of them; the golden grille slid back and Charlie, Harry and Mr. Weasley stepped into the lift with the rest of the crowd.

It wasn't long before the lift began to ascend and slowly, the crowd lessened as they stopped on each floor. At last, the doors opened and the voice made its announcement.

"Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services."

"This is us, boys," said Arthur, and the two fifteen year old boys followed him out of the lift into a corridor lined with doors.

As they walked, a stooped, timid-looking old wizard with fluffy white hair tan towards them, panting.

"Oh Arthur!" he said desperately, failing to acknowledge Harry and Charlie. "Thank goodness, I didn't know what to do, whether to wait here for you or not."

Arthur's ears had perked up, "What's the matter, Perkins?"

Perkins exhaled, "They've changed the time of Potter's hearing."

"Blast!" Arthur cursed, "Dumbledore thought they might do that!"

"It started at eight, Arthur," Perkins exclaimed, "in Courtroom Ten!"

Suddenly, Mr. Weasley's eyes had widened as he checked his watch, "Good lord, that was five minutes ago! Come on, boys!"

Perkins flattened himself against the front desk as Mr. Weasley took off with a run, Charlie and Harry close on his heels.

"Why have they changed the time?" Harry said breathlessly, as they hurtled past Auror cubicles; people poked out their heads and stared as they streaked past.

"Typical," Charlie muttered as he ran, "just like them to pull something like this out of the blue."

They reached a flight of stairs, made it to the bottom of the steps and ran along yet another corridor with rough stone walls and torches in brackets. The doors they passed here were heavy wooden ones with iron bolts and keyholes.

"Courtroom... ten... I think... we're nearly... yes."

Mr. Weasley stumbled to a halt outside a grimy dark door with an immense iron lock and slumped against the wall, clutching at a stitch in his chest.

"Go on," he panted towards Harry, pointing his thumb at the door. "Get in there."

"Wait, what? Aren't you two coming with — ?"

"No, no," Charlie dismissed. "We're not allowed. Good luck, mate!"

Arthur said goodbye, "Keep calm, Harry!"

Harry swallowed hard, turned the heavy iron door handle and stepped inside the courtroom, leaving Charlie and Mr. Weasley outside.

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It felt like hours had gone by before Harry wrenched open the door and almost collided with Mr. Weasley, who was standing right outside, looking pale and apprehensive. Charlie stood upright from his spot where he had leaned up against the wall, and raised a brow at his friend.

"Cleared," Harry said, pulling the door closed behind him, "of all charges!"

Beaming, Charlie hugged his friend in celebration as Mr. Weasley was practically jumping on the spot.

"Harry! That's wonderful!" he said, "Well, of course, they couldn't have found you guilty, not on the evidence, but even so, I can't pretend I wasn't —"

But Mr. Weasley broke off, because the courtroom door had just opened again. The court members were filing out.

As if trying to make a grand appearance, the last two people out of the courtroom were a toad-like witch, and Fenwick Hawthorne with a briefcase in hand. Charlie's breath instantly hitched in his throat as his father looked at him, a devilish grin finding its way onto his face.

"Hello, son," he said tauntingly, and Charlie felt a cold chill run through his entire body. "So good to see you."

"So, this is the infamous son of yours, Fenwick," the toad-like woman said with the same wicked smile as she looked up at Charlie. "Well, it's great to know he's inherited your good looks."

"You're too kind," Fenwick laughed playfully at the witch before focusing in on Charlie as if Harry and Mr. Weasley weren't even there. "This is my Senior Undersecretary, Charles, and she's most delighted to get to know all about you during your upcoming year at Hogwarts — which reminds me! The reason I've requested to see you here today —"

Fenwick stopped as he opened his briefcase and pulled out signed documents, "I thought you'd be overjoyed to know that the impression you made last year left Monsieur Pierre Dumont so content that he has decided to go through with the partnership deal. The French and English Ministries will be joining forces in the upcoming year, starting by allowing transfer students to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"What does that have to do with me?" Charlie said bitterly, avoiding his father's intense gaze. "Why am I here?"

"What's with the tone, Charles?" Fenwick said, amused. "I thought you'd be thrilled! Elaina Dumont will be the first transfer student in attendance, and I know that you two developed quite the spark when she visited last year — unless I'm wrong, and perhaps, your heart has been captured by another? Oh, is that it?"

Fenwick turned back to the toad-like woman with a cocky smirk, "You'll have to keep a lookout, Madame Secretary! You see, Charles isn't one to divulge his secrets to his dear old dad. Perhaps you'll be the one to report to me about everything that my son gets up to in the new year."

"I'd be delighted, sir," the toad-like woman said at once, looking at Charlie with a weird gleam in her eye.

"Splendid," Fenwick beamed before he turned back to his son, seizing him by shoulder. "You be good now, Charles." he leaned in, adding on in a whisper that only Charlie could hear, "I told you I'd keep a close eye on you..."

Fenwick straightened up once more, sending a disapproving nod to Mr. Weasley as he snapped his briefcase closed, causing Charlie to jump slightly. The witch gave one last appraisingly gaze at both of the young Gryffindors before her and Fenwick marched after the rest of the court members.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Harry said as soon as Fenwick and his undersecretary had walked a fair enough distance away.

"Nothing," Charlie said sharply, looking down the hall with a glare as he caught sight of Lucius Malfoy speaking to his father. "Let's just go."

As Mr. Weasley, Harry, and Charlie walked back the way that they came, everything fell into place in the brown eyed boy's head.

His father hadn't requested his presence for the sake of the matter, but instead, to instil a sense of paranoia and fear within him —

Charlie was going to be watched, in what way he didn't know for sure, but the mere idea made him extremely uneasy...

...he was trapped.

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Author's Note:
*this chapter was not proof read*

Okay, so this chapter took longer than I intended.

The reason being is because I've gone through a sense of insecurity about this story, and I've started to second guess myself when it comes to everything.

ANYWAYS! Sappy shit aside —

This is a filler chapter that pretty much foreshadows what is to come in upcoming chapters.

I hope you guys enjoyed, if you did be sure to like, comment and share!

Much love to you all! Words will never be able to describe what you mean to me <3

xo, Selena

p.s. you already know — spam with comments :)