CHAPTER FIFTEEN:

Third Person P.O.V.:

"Mate," Charlie muttered softly to Harry, releasing Hermione from his grasp for the final time, "we were in the middle of something -"

"I'm sorry, but you have to listen," pleaded Harry, his voice shaking, "I dunno how, but he's got Sirius. I know exactly where they are. There's a room in the Department of Mysteries full of shelves covered in these little glass balls and they're at the end of row ninety-seven... he's trying to use Sirius to get whatever it is he wants from in there... he's torturing him... says he'll end by killing him!"

Harry collapsed to his knees due to their inability to hold his weight any longer. Charlie and Hermione, wiping the last of the tears from their faces, shared a look, subconsciously agreed to put their conversation on hold to help their friend.

"How are we going to get there?" Harry asked them, breaking the tension-filled silence. "We have to rescue Sirius! There must be a way into the Department of Mysteries."

"But Harry," said Charlie weakly, "that's the thing..."

"What? What is it?" asked Harry, growing irritated that his friends were doing nothing more than gaping at him.

"Well," Charlie began, being mindful of his friend's fragile state, "you see, you can't exactly get into the Department of Mysteries without being seen. Voldemort wouldn't have been able to walk around the Ministry without anyone realizing he was there..."

Charlie trailed off as realization came over him. Saying the words out loud triggered a gut-feeling deep within him. His father undoubtedly had a hand in this, and Charlie wouldn't be surprised if his father welcomed Voldemort into the Ministry with open arms. He didn't say anything, of course, and kept his thoughts to himself as Hermione continued the theory for him.

"Exactly! Not to mention, it's nearly six o'clock in the afternoon," she said warily, taking a step towards Harry, "The Ministry of Magic is undoubtedly filled with workers. Harry... they're probably the two most wanted wizards in the world... you honestly think they could get into a building full of Aurors undetected?"

"I dunno, maybe Voldemort used an Invisibility Cloak or something!" Harry shouted, sounding beyond reason. "Anyway, the Department of Mysteries has always been completely empty whenever I've been -"

"But you've never been there, Harry," said Hermione quietly. "You've just dreamed about the place, that's all."

"They're not normal dreams!" yelled Harry angrily, standing up and taking a step closer to her. "How d'you explain Ron's dad then, what was all that about? How come I knew what had happened to him?"

"Settle down, would you?" Charlie snapped at Harry, growing protective over Hermione like he always had before. "All she's saying is that what if Voldemort meant for you to see this? Huh? What if he's only hurting Sirius because he's trying to get to you?"

"So what if he is? I'm just supposed to let him die?" retaliated Harry, his eyes narrowing in Charlie's direction. "Charlie, he's the only family I've got left!"

There was a hesitant moment of no response in which Harry let out a roar of frustration. Hermione actually stepped back from him, looking alarmed. Charlie sighed heavily, raising his right hand up to rub his eyes exasperatedly.

"So," he muttered, giving in, "what are we supposed to do?"

"Listen," Hermione said urgently, seemingly going through with this crazed theory, "Harry, we need to establish whether Sirius really has left Headquarters."

"I've told you, I saw -"

"Harry, I'm begging you, please!" interrupted Hermione desperately. "Please let's just check that Sirius isn't at home before we go charging off to London. If we find out he's not there, then I swear I won't try to stop you. I'll come, I'll do whatever it takes to try and save him."

"Sirius is being tortured NOW!" shouted Harry, finding the idea preposterous. "We haven't got time to waste."

"I don't think any of us fancy waltzing into one of Voldemort's traps," shrugged Charlie, as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Better to be safe than sorry."

"How?" Harry demanded, looking at his friends sceptically. "How're we going to check?"

"We'll have to use Umbridge's fire and see if we can contact him," suggested Hermione, who looked positively terrified at the thought. "We'll have to draw Umbridge away again, but we'll need some help..."

"Okay," Harry muttered angrily, giving in. "Okay, if you can think of a way of doing this quickly, I'm with you, otherwise I'm going to the Department of Mysteries right now."

"Let's get moving then," said Charlie, gesturing towards the door.

Without having to be told twice, Harry bolted from the room, and Charlie could hear his loud, angry footsteps disappear down the staircase. In heavy contrast, neither Charlie or Hermione moved for the door, both of them still trying to process everything that seemed to fall apart within the last hour.

It was almost as if a fear had been instilled in each of them. They were haunted with the idea that once they stepped out that door, their breakup would no longer be a lapse in judgment, but instead a harsh reality. Undoubtedly, they both wished this was all a nightmare that they had yet to wake up from, and silently still hoped that everything wasn't lost.

Charlie hated himself more than he had ever hated anyone else... even his father. Hermione's saddened, tear-stained face was a gut-wrenching reminder of all the damage he had caused, and it felt like a knife to the chest every time a muffled sob fell from her lips. Blinking fast, his eyes wandered around the room, trying his damnedest not to fall victim to her auburn eyes that made him weak at the knees.

He made for the door. As he reached it, his hand rested against the oak. Suddenly a surge of rage cursed throughout his body, wanting so badly to put a hole through the wall in attempt to cope with his world crumbling down. But he froze and took a deep breath, pushing himself to keep his composure in front of her.

Meanwhile, Hermione watched him attentively, mapping his broad, tensed shoulders with her eyes. Two hours ago, she would've attempted to hold him in her arms, placing kisses along his back to ease his stress... but she didn't have the liberty to touch him like that anymore.

That mere thought left Hermione entangled in a mess of emotions. As much as she tried to think of Harry and the current situation, her mind wandered, wondering how her relationship went from blissful happiness to unbearable sadness so quickly. She felt blind sighted, heartbroken, and even a little angry... and yet, she still loved him. With every ounce of her being, she was in love with him, and letting him go seemed almost impossible.

"Charlie..." she whispered, but she couldn't help the involuntarily hiccup as the word broke against her lips.

He cocked his head back, his jaw evidently tightening as he tried to pull himself together. As Harry had said, they didn't have time to waste -

"I've said all I've needed to say," he responded, and anyone with an ounce of knowledge on Charlie Hawthorne would've known he was dying inside.

And without waiting for a response that was sure to make him collapse at her feet, Charlie flung himself into the corridor, setting off for the common room, which was still full of a large group of people celebrating the completion of their exams. Scanning the room, Charlie spotted Harry near the portrait hole with Ron, seemingly filling him in on all thats happened.

"The Department of Mysteries?" questioned Ron, looking mildly surprised as Charlie approached him and Harry. "But how the bloody hell are we supposed to get there?"

"That's something to worry about later," whispered Charlie, making his presence known. "We have to be sure Sirius isn't at Grimmauld Place before we storm off to the Ministry."

Harry scoffed, "And yet, we're here wasting valuable time with -"

He trailed off. The three boys whipped their heads around at the sound of footsteps approaching. Ginny joined the conversation, looking curious, closely followed by Hermione, who looked incredibly torn between dealing with the aftermath of her breakup and the danger at which Sirius could potentially be in.

"Hey," said Ginny uncertainly. "What's going on?"

"Never you mind," barked Harry roughly.

Ginny raised her eyebrows.

"There's no need to take that tone with me," she said coolly, making the obvious tension between the two of them well-known, "I was only wondering whether I could help."

"Well, you can't," said Harry shortly.

"Actually," began Hermione, twisting her hands together nervously, "we could definitely use Ginny as a lookout, Harry. We'll need to keep students away from Umbridge's office while we force entry, or some Slytherin's bound to go and tip her off."

Though clearly struggling to understand what was going on, Ginny said immediately, "Yeah, I'll do it! I'll get Luna and Elaina to help too. The three of us will cover the corridor, warning people people not to go down there because someone's let off a load of Garrotting Gas." Hermione looked surprised at the readiness with which Ginny had come up with this lie; Ginny shrugged and said, "Fred and George were planning to do it before they left."

The core four, including Harry, nodded slowly; the plan was coming together nicely.

"Right," gulped Hermione, her mind clearly not processing as well as she had hoped. "Right... well... one of us has to go and find Umbridge and send her off in the wrong direction, keep her away from her office. They could tell her - I don't know - that Peeves is up to something awful as usual..."

"I'll do it," said Ron at once. "I'll tell her Peeves is smashing up the Transfiguration department or something, it's miles away from her office. Come to think of it, I could probably persuade Peeves to do it if I met him on the way."

It was a mark of the seriousness of the situation that Hermione made no objection to the smashing up of the Transfiguration department.

"Alright," she nodded effortlessly, clearly not thinking twice. "Right then, Harry; you, Charlie and I will be under the Invisibility Cloak and we'll sneak into the office. Ginny, sing a loud chorus of 'Weasley is our King' if you see Umbridge coming. Now, bare in mind, even if we pull this off, I don't think we're going to be able to bank on more than five minutes."

Charlie agreed, "Not with Filch and the wretched Inquisitorial Squad floating around."

"Five minutes'll be enough," shrugged Harry eagerly, "C'mon, let's go!"

In the next moment, Harry began fighting his way back through the milling crowd in the common room towards the staircase. The other four scrambled their way out of the portrait hole, awaiting their friend's return. It took Harry only a few short moments before he was tearing his way back towards his friends, the Invisibility Cloak and Sirius's knife secure in his bag.

"Got it," he panted. "Ready to go, then?"

With a simultaneous nod, the group appeared seemingly ready to commence phase one of the plan. Ron strode away, his bright-red hair visible right to the end of the passage; meanwhile Ginny's equally vivid head bobbed between the jostling students surrounding them in the other direction, in obvious search of Luna and Elaina.

"Come here," muttered Hermione, and Charlie closed his eyes to the sensation of electricity as her hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling him back into a recess where the ugly stone head of a medieval wizard stood muttering to itself on a column.

Harry was too busy tugging the Invisibility Cloak from his bag to notice the tension between his two friends in front of him. Hermione's hand lingered on Charlie's for a moment, relishing in the fact that he had yet to pull away or flinch. Charlie stared at her, their eyes meeting in a hopeful gaze. Then, with a guilty conscience, he gently yanked his hand from her grasp, causing an immediate frown to appear on Hermione's face.

"Here," Harry said shortly, breaking the silence as he threw the Invisibility Cloak over the three of them; they stood listening carefully over the Latin mumblings of the bust in front of them, awaiting a signal.

Not long after, the voice of Elaina Dumont could be heard from a distant corridor.

"You can't come down here!" she was calling to the crowd. "No, sorry, you're going to have to go round by the swivelling staircase, someone's let off Garrotting Gas just along here -"

Charlie, Harry, and Hermione could hear people complaining as they moved through the corridor; one surly voice said, "I can't see any gas."

"That's because it's colourless," came Ginny's voice, sounding convincingly exasperated, "but if you want to walk through it, carry on, then we'll have your body as proof for the next idiot who doesn't believe us."

Slowly, the crowd thinned. The news about the Garrotting Gas seemed to have spread; people were not coming this way any more. When at last the surrounding area was quite clear, Hermione said quietly, "I think that's as good as we're going to get - come on, let's get this over with."

They moved forwards, covered by the Cloak. Luna was standing with her back to them at the far end of the corridor, while Elaina looked around corners for any lingering spectators. As they passed Ginny, Hermione whispered, "Good one... don't forget the signal."

It wasn't long before Charlie, Harry, and Hermione approached Umbridge's office door. Harry inserted the blade of Sirius's knife in the crack between door and wall. The lock clicked open and they entered the office.

The garish kittens were basking in the late-afternoon sunshine that was warming their plates, but otherwise the office was unoccupied. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.

"We did it."

They pulled off the Cloak; Hermione hurried over to the window and stood out of sight, peering down into the grounds with her wand out. Charlie stood by the door, his wand in his hands, and pressed his ear to the door, awaiting a signal. Harry dashed over to the fireplace, seized the pot of Floo powder and threw a pinch into the grate, causing emerald flames to burst into life there. He knelt down quickly, thrust his head into the dancing fire and cried, "Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!"

His head began to spin although his knees remained firmly planted on the cold office floor. Harry kept his eyes screwed up against the whirling ash and when the spinning stopped, he opened them to find himself looking out at the long, cold kitchen of Grimmauld Place.

There was nobody there. He had expected this, yet was not prepared for the molten wave of dread and panic that seemed to burst through his stomach at the sight of the deserted room.

At the sound of Harry's exasperated screams, Charlie cocked his head towards him. Appealing to his selfless nature, he moved towards Harry, leaving his post momentarily to check on his friend's well being.

Charlie leaned over the desk, raising a brow as Harry's head appeared deeply submerged in the flames.

The peculiar part, however, was that one could practically feel the intensity and fear radiating off of the Chosen One. Hermione and Charlie shared a worried look from across the room; Harry's reaction was implying nothing good whatsoever, and both of them dreaded the reality of storming the Ministry.

"Harry," Charlie called out in a whisper, desperately trying to bring his friend back from Grimmauld Place, "are you alright? What's happ-"

But before he could even finish his sentence, Charlie felt a great pain at the top of his head. With a rough tug at his hair, his head was slammed onto the desk in front of him; Hermione's frightened gasp was muffled and replaced with the scuffling sounds of a tussle. The cold, wooden desk was pressed against Charlie's cheek, and as if knowing that he would struggle, his attacker had pinned one of his arms to his back, holding him in place.

With a horrid abruptness, Charlie could see the brief outline of the wide, pallid face of Professor Umbridge, who had dragged Harry backwards out of the fire by the hair and was now bending his neck back as far as it would go, as though she were going to slit his throat.

"You honestly think," she whispered, bending Harry's neck back even further, so that he was looking up at the ceiling, "that I was going to let any of you foul, pathetic vermin enter my office without my knowledge? I had Stealth Sensoring Spells placed all around my doorway, you foolish children! Take their wands," she barked at someone Charlie could not see, and he instantly felt a hand rip his wand from his grasp. "Hers, too."

Charlie heard another scuffle over by the door and knew that Hermione had also just had her wand wrested from her.

"I want to know why you three are in my office," said Umbridge, shaking the fist clutching Harry's hair so that he staggered.

"We were - trying to get my Firebolt!" Harry croaked. "Charlie's Nimbus too!"

"Liar." Umbridge growled, as she shook Harry's head again. "Your brooms are under strict guard in the dungeons, as you very well know, Mr. Potter. You had your head in my fire. With whom have you been communicating?"

"No one -" said Harry, trying to pull away from her; he felt several hairs part company with his scalp.

"Liar!" shouted Umbridge. She threw him from her and he slammed into the desk next to Charlie.

Then, as if the separation of the two Gryffindor boys was sure to cause a great panic, Charlie was yanked backwards off of the desk. Now he could see Hermione pinioned against the wall by Millicent Bulstrode. Blaise Zabini was leaning on the windowsill, smirking as he juggled Charlie's wand in his hands.

With a clenched jaw, Charlie could see, through his peripheral vision, the cold grey eyes and sleek blonde hair of Draco Malfoy, who was sniggering lightly as Charlie struggled for release.

"Easy there, Hawthorne," sneered Malfoy, with an underlying hint of amusement. "Your temper is gonna get you in trouble."

Charlie clenched his hands so hard that his knuckles were turning white; the sight of Hermione being pinned by Millicent Bullstrode wasn't helping the matter either... blimey, if looks could kill -

"The second you let go of me," Charlie spat angrily towards Draco, "you're dead."

As expected, Malfoy was merely entertained with the whole situation, failing to acknowledge Charlie's threat as a viable outcome. The impending rage building within Charlie was astronomical.

There was a commotion outside and several large Slytherins entered, each gripping Ron, Ginny, Elaina, Luna and - to Charlie's bewilderment - Neville, who was trapped in a stranglehold by Crabbe and looked in imminent danger of suffocation. All five of them had been gagged.

"Got 'em all," said Cassius Warrington, a seventh- year Slytherin Chaser, who shoved Ron roughly forwards into the room. "That one," he poked a thick finger at Neville, "tried to stop me taking her," he pointed at Ginny, who was trying to kick the shins of the large Slytherin girl holding her, "so I brought him along too."

"Good, good," said Umbridge, watching Ginny's struggles. "Well, it looks as though Hogwarts will shortly be a Weasley-free zone, doesn't it?"

Malfoy laughed loudly and sycophantically. Umbridge gave her wide, complacent smile and settled herself into a chintz-covered armchair, blinking up at her captives like a toad in a flowerbed.

"So, let me get this straight," she called, her face contorting to put the pieces together. "You stationed lookouts around my office and you sent this buffoon," she nodded at Ron - Malfoy laughed even louder - "to tell me the poltergeist was wreaking havoc in the Transfiguration department when I knew perfectly well that he was busy smearing ink on the eyepieces of all the school telescopes - Mr. Filch having just informed me so."

"Clearly, it was very important for you to talk to somebody. Was it Albus Dumbledore? Or the half-breed oaf, Rubeus Hagrid?"

Malfoy and a few of the other members of the Inquisitorial Squad laughed some more at that. Charlie found himself so full of rage and hatred that he was shaking.

"It's none of your business who we were talking to," he growled, and almost immediately Malfoy's grasp tightened around his Gryffindor robes, clinging the clothing aggressively around his neck.

Umbridge's slack face seemed to tighten. Her head whipped in Charlie's direction, and with the utmost satisfaction, she got up and approached him with an angry strut.

"Very well," she said in her most dangerous, yet falsely sweet, voice as she prodded his chest with her stubby index finger. "Very well, Mr. Hawthorne... I offered you the chance to tell me freely. You refused. I have no alternative but to force you once again. Blaise - fetch Professor Snape."

Zabini shoved Charlie's wand inside his robes and left the room smirking, but Charlie hardly noticed. He had just realized something; he could not believe he had been so stupid as to forget it. Snape was a member of the Order and hopefully, he could help them with the situation they currently found themselves in.

There was silence in the office except for the fidgetings and scufflings resulting from the Slytherins' efforts to keep everyone under control.

Harry was in the same position he had been moments ago, slammed against Umbridge's desk; Ron's lip was bleeding onto the carpet as he struggled against Warrington's half-nelson; Ginny was still trying to stamp on the heel of the sixth-year girl who had both her upper arms in a tight grip; Elaina was pinioned up against the door by a smug seventh-year student; Neville was turning steadily more purple in the face while lugging at Crabbe's arms; and Hermione was attempting, in vain, to throw Millicent Bulstrode off her. Luna, however, stood limply by the side of her captor, gazing vaguely out of the window as though rather bored by the proceedings.

Charlie looked back at Umbridge, who was standing in front of him, watching him closely. He kept his face deliberately smooth and blank as footsteps were heard in the corridor outside and Blaise Zabini re-entered the room, closely followed by Snape.

"You wanted to see me, Headmistress?" said Snape, looking around at all the pairs of struggling students with an expression of complete indifference.

"Ah, Professor Snape," breathed Umbridge, smiling widely and moving towards him. "Yes, I would like another bottle of Veritaserum, as quick as you can, please."

"You took my last bottle to interrogate Hawthorne," he said, surveying her coolly through his greasy curtains of black hair. "Surely you did not use it all? I told you that three drops would be sufficient."

Umbridge flushed.

"You can make some more, can't you?" she said, her voice becoming more sweetly girlish as it always did when she was furious.

"Certainly," sneered Snape, his lip curling. "It takes a full moon-cycle to mature, so I should have it ready for you in a month."

"A month?" squawked Umbndge, swelling toadishly. "A month! But I need it this evening, Snape! I have just found Potter using my fire to communicate with a person or persons unknown!"

"Really?" drawled Snape, showing his first, faint sign of interest as he looked round at Harry. "Well, it doesn't surprise me. Potter has never shown much inclination to follow school rules."

Snaps surveyed the room, blissfully paying no attention to Harry whatsoever. Instead, his cold, dark eyes were boring into Charlie's, who met his gaze unflinchingly, subconsciously thanking Snape for not divulging the truth of his Occlumency abilities in a subtle, yet believable, act of dishonesty. There was even a fraction of a second in which Charlie could've sworn that Snape nodded in his direction.

"I wish to interrogate Potter!" repeated Umbridge angrily, and Snape looked away from Charlie back into her furiously quivering lace. "I wish you to provide me with a potion that will force him to tell me the truth!"

"I have already told you," said Snape smoothly, "that I have no further stocks of Veritaserum. Unless you wish to poison Potter - and I assure you I would have the greatest sympathy with you if you did - I cannot help you. The only trouble is that most venoms act too fast to give the victim much time for truth-telling."

Despite Umbridge's frantic cries of action, Snape gave her an ironic bow and turned to leave. It occurred to Harry in that moment that this was his last chance of letting the Order know what was going on.

And so he shouted, "He's got Padfoot! He's got Padfoot at the place where it's hidden!"

Snape had stopped with his hand on Umbridge's door handle.

"Padfoot?" cried Professor Umbridge, looking eagerly from Harry to Snape. "What is Padfoot? Where what is hidden? What does he mean, Snape?"

Snape looked round at Harry. His face was inscrutable. No one could tell whether Snape had understood or not, but no one dared to speak more plainly in front of Umbridge.

"I have no idea," said Snape coldly. "Potter, when I want nonsense shouted at me I shall give you a Babbling Beverage."

He closed the door behind him with a snap, leaving the captives to share gazes of inner turmoil across the room; Snape had been their very last hope. Charlie looked at Umbridge, who seemed to be feeling the same way; her chest was heaving with rage and frustration.

"Very well," she whispered, and she pulled out her wand. "Very well... I am left with no alternative... this is more than a matter of school discipline... this is an issue of Ministry security... yes... yes..."

She seemed to be talking herself into something. She was shifting her weight nervously from foot to foot, staring at Harry, beating her wand against her empty palm and breathing heavily. As he watched her, Charlie felt horribly protective as a sense of dread overcame him.

"You are forcing me, Potter... I do not want to," said Umbridge, still moving restlessly on the spot, "but sometimes circumstances justify the use... I am sure the Minister will understand that I had no choice..."

Malfoy was watching her with a hungry expression on his face.

"The Cruciatus Curse ought to loosen your tongue," whispered Umbridge quietly, and Charlie's eyes immediately widened.

"No!" shrieked Hermione. "Professor Umbridge -that's illegal."

But Umbridge took no notice. There was a nasty eager, excited look on her face that Charlie had never seen before. She raised her wand.

"What Fenwick doesn't know won't hurt him," affirmed Umbridge, who was now panting slightly as she pointed her wand at different parts of Harry's body in turn, apparently trying to decide where it would hurt most. "Someone has to act, and I shall be the one to do so. No more wriggling out of consequence... I forbid it!" And taking a deep breath, she cried, "CRUC-"

"NO!" shouted Hermione in a cracked voice from behind Millicent Bulstrode. "Tell her, Harry! Please!"

"No way!" yelled Harry, staring at the little of Hermione he could see.

"She's going to force it out of you anyways!" retaliated Hermione, her lip trembling. "What's the point?"

And Hermione began to cry weakly into the back of Millicent Bulstrode's robes. Millicent stopped trying to squash her against the wall immediately and dodged out of her way looking disgusted.

"Well, well, well!" said Umbridge, looking triumphant. "Little Miss Question-All is going to give us some answers! Come on then, you silly girl, come on!"

"Er--my--nee--no!" shouted Ron through his gag.

Ginny was staring at Hermione as though she had never seen her before. Elaina let out an almost inaudible gasp of disbelief. Neville, still choking for breath, was gazing at Hermione, too. They all seemed utterly betrayed; everything they had done had been for nothing.

But Charlie had just noticed something. Though Hermione was sobbing desperately into her hands, there was no trace of a tear.

Brilliant, he thought, and he had to resist a smirk from forming on his face. She is absolutely brilliant.

"I'm sorry everyone," cried Hermione. "But - I can't stand it -"

"That's right, that's right, girl!" beamed Umbridge, seizing Hermione by the shoulders, thrusting her into the abandoned chintz chair and leaning over her. "Now then... with whom was Potter communicating just now?"

"Well," gulped Hermione into her hands, "well, he was trying to speak to Professor Dumbledore."

Harry furrowed his brows curiously; Ron froze, his eyes wide; Ginny stopped trying to stamp on her Slytherin captor's toes; and even Luna looked mildly surprised. Fortunately, the attention of Umbridge and her minions was focused too exclusively upon Hermione to notice these suspicious signs.

"Dumbledore?" said Umbridge eagerly. "You know where Dumbledore is, then?"

"Well... no," sobbed Hermione, and Umbridge's face faltered. "B-But we needed to tell him something important!"

Hermione wailed, with an utmost believable performance, as she held her hands tightly to her face. It was not, Charlie knew, out of anguish, but to disguise the continued absence of tears.

"Yes?" whispered Umbridge with a sudden resurgence of excitement. "What was it you wanted to tell him?"

"We... we wanted to tell him it's r-ready!" choked Hermione.

"What's ready?" demanded Umbridge, and now she grabbed Hermione's shoulders again and shook her slightly. "What's ready, girl?"

"T-The weapon."

"Weapon? Weapon?" repeated Umbridge, and her eyes seemed to pop with excitement. "You have been developing some method of resistance? A weapon you could use against the Ministry? On Professor Dumbledore's orders, of course? What kind of weapon is it?"

"Y-Y-Yes!" gasped Hermione, and Charlie stared in amazement at her performance. "But w-we don't really understand it, w-we just did what P-P-Professor Dumbledore told us t-t-to do."

Umbridge straightened up, looking exultant.

"Lead me to the weapon," she said.

"I'm not showing... them," said Hermione shrilly, looking around at the Slytherins through her fingers.

Umbridge glared down upon her, speaking harshly, "It is not for you to set conditions."

"Let them see it then," growled Charlie towards Umbridge, contributing to the lie, and he could've sworn he saw Hermione peer at him through her fingers thankfully. "Hell, I hope they use it on you! In fact, I wish you'd invite loads of people to come and see! It would serve you right, wouldn't it? Imagine if the whole school knew where it was, and how to use it! Whenever any of them are ever the slightest bit annoyed with you, they'll be able to sort you out. Merlin knows you deserve it!"

These words had a powerful impact on Umbridge: she glanced swiftly and suspiciously around at her Inquisitorial Squad, her bulging eyes resting for a moment on Malfoy, who was too slow to disguise the look of eagerness and greed that had appeared on his face.

Umbridge contemplated Hermione for another long moment, then spoke in what she clearly thought was a motherly voice.

"All right, dear, let's make it just you and me... and we'll take Potter, too, shall we? Get up, now." She paused, and turned towards Charlie once more, her jaw tightening in anger, "Actually, why don't you come along too, Mr. Hawthorne? Since you feel so inclined to share your opinion on the matter, I find it best if you join on us on our quest... you might even prove to be a nice reminder of what is at stake for your little girlfriend here," she paused to look at Hermione, who frowned at the emphasis of the word, "if she chooses to defy my trust."

Charlie and Hermione looked at each other for a brief moment. Amongst the chaos, they had forgotten what had happened between them, and their hearts ached at the reminder. Charlie took a deep breath as he nodded slowly, and Umbridge smiled in satisfaction.

"Professor," squeaked Malfoy eagerly, "Professor Umbridge, I think some of the Squad should come with you to look after -"

"I am a fully qualified Ministry official, Mr. Malfoy, do you really think I cannot manage three wandless teenagers alone?" asked Umbridge sharply. "In any case, it does not sound as though this weapon is something that children should see. You will remain here until I return, making sure none of these hooligans -" she gestured around at Elaina, Ron, Ginny, Neville and Luna, "- escape."

"Alright," said Malfoy, looking sulky and disappointed. He let go of Charlie at once.

"And you three can go ahead of me and show me the way," barked Umbridge, pointing at Charlie, Harry and Hermione with her wand. "Lead on."

-------------------

Neither Charlie or Harry knew what Hermione was planning, or even whether she had a plan. They simply walked half a pace behind her as they headed down the corridor outside Umbridge's office, knowing it would look very suspicious if they appeared not to know where they were going.

Charlie did not dare attempt to talk to Hermione, even though it killed him to do so; Umbridge was walking so closely behind them that he could hear her ragged breathing.

Hermione led the way down the stairs into the Entrance Hall. The din of loud voices and the clatter of cutlery on plates echoed from out of the double doors to the Great Hall. Ignoring this, the four of them walked out of the oak front doors and down the stone steps into the balmy evening air.

The sun was falling towards the tops of the trees in the Forbidden Forest now, and as Hermione marched purposefully across the grass - Umbridge jogging to keep up - their long dark shadows rippled over the grass behind them like cloaks.

"It's hidden in Hagrid's hut, is it?" asked Umbridge eagerly in Charlie's ear.

"Of course not," dismissed Hermione scathingly. "Hagrid might have set it off accidentally."

"Yes," agreed Umbridge, whose excitement seemed to be mounting. "Yes, he would have done, of course, the great half-breed oaf."

She laughed, and Charlie felt a strong urge to swing round and seize her by the throat, but resisted. Hearing someone talk about Hagrid in such a way irritated him through to his core.

"Then... where is it?" asked Umbridge, with a hint or uncertainty in her voice as Hermione continued to stride towards the Forest.

"In there, of course," said Hermione, pointing into the dark trees. "It had to be somewhere that students weren't going to find it accidentally."

"Of course," said Umbridge, though she sounded a little apprehensive now. "Of course... very well, then... you three stay ahead of me."

Harry scoffed, asking, "Can we have your wand, then, if we're going first?"

"No, I don't think so, Mr. Potter," whispered Umbridge sweetly, poking him in the back with it. "The Ministry places a rather higher value on my life than yours, I'm afraid."

As they reached the cool shade of the first trees, Charlie tried to catch Hermione's eye; walking into the Forest without wands seemed to him to be more foolish than anything they had done so far this evening. She, however, merely gave Umbridge a contemptuous glance and plunged straight into the trees, moving at such a pace that Umbridge, with her shorter legs, had difficulty in keeping up.

Almost immediately, Charlie's misgivings increased, and him and Harry shared a look. Hermione was not taking the path they had followed to visit Grawp, but instead the path the boys had followed three years ago to the lair of the monster Aragog. Hermione had not been with them on that occasion; Charlie doubted she had any idea what danger lay at the end of it.

"Hermione," he whispered so lowly that it was almost inaudible, and yet, Hermione had to resist the urge to stop immediately at the sound of his voice. "What are you doing?"

"Improvising," she replied with a tone of reassurance, crashing through the undergrowth with what he thought was a unnecessary amount of noise. Behind them, Umbridge tripped over a fallen sapling. Neither of them paused to help her up again; Hermione merely strode on, calling loudly over her shoulder, "It's a bit further in!"

"Hermione, keep your voice down," Harry muttered, hurrying to catch up with her and Charlie. "Anything could be listening in here -"

"I want us heard," she answered quietly, as Umbridge jogged noisily after them. "You'll see..."

They walked on for what seemed a long time, until they were once again so deep into the Forest that the dense tree canopy blocked out all light. Charlie had this odd feeling overcome him; they were being watched by unseen eyes.

"How much further?" demanded Umbridge angrily from behind him.

"Not far now!" shouted Hermione, as they emerged into a dim, dank clearing. "Just a little further -"

An arrow flew through the air and landed with a menacing thud in the tree just over her head. The air was suddenly full of the sound of hooves; Charlie could feel the Forest floor trembling; Umbridge gave a little scream and pushed him in front of her like a shield -

He wrenched himself free of her and turned. Around fifty centaurs were emerging on every side, their bows raised and loaded, pointing at Charlie, Harry, Hermione and Umbridge. They backed slowly into the centre of the clearing, Umbridge uttering odd little whimpers of terror. Charlie looked sideways at Hermione. She was wearing a triumphant smile, and he swooned at the sight.

"Who are you?" said a voice.

Charlie looked left. The chestnut-bodied centaur called, Magorian, was walking towards them out of the circle; his bow, like those of the others, was raised. On Charlie's right, Umbridge was still whimpering, her wand trembling violently as she pointed it at the advancing centaur.

"I asked you who are you, human," repeated Magorian roughly.

"I am Dolores Umbridge!" bellowed Umbridge in a high-pitched, terrified voice. "Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic and Headmistress and High Inquisitor of Hogwarts!"

"You are from the Ministry of Magic?" questioned Magorian, as many of the centaurs in the surrounding circle shifted restlessly.

"That's right!" yelled Umbridge, in an even higher voice, "so be very careful! By the laws laid down by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, any attack by half-breeds, such as yourselves, on a human -"

"What did you call us?" shouted a wild-looking black centaur. There was a great deal of angry muttering and tightening of bowstrings around them.

"Don't call them that!" Hermione said furiously, but Umbridge did not appear to have heard her.

Still pointing her shaking wand at Magorian, she continued, "Law Fifteen 'B' states clearly that 'any attack by a magical creature who is deemed to have near-human intelligence, and therefore considered responsible for its actions -'"

"'Near-human intelligence'?" repeated Magorian, as several other centaurs roared with rage and pawed the ground. "We consider that a great insult, human! Our intelligence, thankfully, far outstrips your own."

"What are you doing in our Forest?" bellowed the hard-faced grey centaur Charlie, Harry and Hermione had seen on their last trip into the Forest. "Why are you here?"

"Your Forest?" said Umbridge, shaking now not only with fright but also, it seemed, with indignation. "I would remind you that you live here only because the Ministry of Magic permits you certain areas of land -"

An arrow flew so close to her head that it caught at her mousy hair in passing: she let out an ear-splitting scream and threw her hands over her head, while some of the centaurs bellowed their approval and others laughed raucously. The sound of their wild, neighing laughter echoing around the dimly lit clearing and the sight of their pawing hooves was extremely unnerving.

"Whose Forest is it now, human?" bellowed one of the centaurs.

"Filthy half-breeds!" she screamed, her hands still tight over her head. "Beasts! Uncontrolled animals!"

"Be quiet!" shouted Hermione, but it was too late; Umbridge pointed her wand at Magorian and screamed, "Incarcerous!"

Ropes flew out of midair like thick snakes, wrapping themselves tightly around the centaur's torso and trapping his arms: he gave a cry of rage and reared on to his hind legs, attempting to free himself, while the other centaurs charged.

Charlie grabbed Hermione and pulled her to the ground; Harry following suit. Face down on the Forest floor, he knew a moment of terror as hooves thundered around him, but the centaurs leapt over and around them, bellowing and screaming with rage.

"Nooooo!" he heard Umbridge shriek. "Noooooo... I am Senior Undersecretary... you cannot - Unhand me, you animals... nooooo!"

Charlie saw a flash of red light and knew she had attempted to Stun one of them; then she screamed very loudly. Lifting his head a few inches, Charlie saw that Umbridge had been seized from behind by one of the centaurs and lifted high into the air, wriggling and yelling with fright. Her wand fell from her hand to the ground, and Charlie watched as Harry locked eyes with it.

But as he stretched out a hand towards it, a centaur's hoof descended upon the wand and it broke cleanly in half.

"Now!" roared a voice in Charlie's ear and a thick hairy arm descended from thin air and dragged him upright. Hermione and Harry, too, had been pulled to their feet.

Over the plunging, many-coloured backs and heads of the centaurs, Charlie saw Umbridge being borne away through the trees by the centaur. She was wriggling with fright.

"Hawthorne!" she shouted, her tone radiating immense fear. "Hawthorne, do something! Tell them I mean no harm!"

"I'm sorry, Professor," Charlie called back to her, and he could've swore he felt a stinging sensation on the back of his hand. "But I must not tell lies."

Screaming non-stop, Umbridge's voice grew fainter and fainter until they could no longer hear it over the trampling of hooves surrounding them.

"And these?" said the hard-faced, grey centaur holding Hermione.

"They are young," said a slow, doleful voice from behind Harry. "We do not attack foals."

"They brought her here, Ronan," replied the centaur who had such a firm grip on Charlie. "And they are not so young... he is nearing manhood, this one."

He shook Charlie by the neck of his robes.

"Please," pleaded Hermione breathlessly, her eyes widening in a panic, "please, don't attack us! We don't think like her, we aren't Ministry of Magic employees! We only came in here because we hoped you'd drive her off for us."

Charlie knew at once, from the look on the face of the grey centaur holding Hermione, that she had made a terrible mistake in saying this.

The grey centaur threw back his head, his back legs stamping furiously, and bellowed, "You see, Ronan? They already have the arrogance of their kind! So we were to do your dirty work, were we, human girl? We were to act as your servants, drive away your enemies like obedient hounds?"

"No!" said Hermione in a horrorstruck squeak. "Please - I didn't mean that! I just hoped you'd be able t-to help us -"

But she seemed to be going from bad to worse.

"We do not help humans!" snarled the centaur holding Harry, tightening his grip and rearing a little at the same time, so that Harry's feet left the ground momentarily. "We are a race apart and proud to be so. We will not permit you to walk from here, boasting that we did your bidding!"

"We're not going to say anything like that!" Harry shouted, trying to help. "We know you didn't do what you did because we wanted you to -"

But nobody seemed to be listening to him.

A bearded centaur towards the back of the crowd shouted, "They came here unasked, they must pay the consequences!"

A roar of approval met these words and a dun-coloured centaur shouted, "They can join the woman!"

"You can't hurt the innocent!" shouted Charlie, and his heart hammered at the sight of real tears sliding down Hermione's face. "Please! We haven't done anything wrong -"

But Charlie couldn't finish his sentence because at that moment, there came a crashing noise on the edge of the clearing so loud that all of them, Charlie, Harry, Hermione and the fifty or so centaurs filling the clearing, looked around. Charlie's centaur let him fall to the ground again as his hands flew to his bow and quiver of arrows. Hermione had been dropped, too, and Charlie hurried towards her as two thick tree trunks parted ominously and the monstrous form of Grawp the giant appeared in the gap.

The centaurs nearest him backed into those behind; the clearing was now a forest of bows and arrows waiting to be fired, all pointing upwards at the enormous greyish face now looming over them
just beneath the thick canopy of branches. Grawp's lopsided mouth was gaping stupidly; his dull sludge-coloured eyes narrowed as he squinted down at the creatures at his feet. Broken ropes trailed from both ankles.

He opened his mouth even wider.

"Hagger."

Harry ran over to his friends, joining them in a tight hug-like circle. Hermione gripped Charlie's arm tightly, and he immediately wrapped his other arm around her. The centaurs were quite silent, staring up at the giant, whose huge, round head moved from side to side as he continued to peer amongst them as though looking for something he had dropped.

"Hagger!" he said again, more insistently.

"Get away from here, giant!" called Magorian. "You are not welcome among us!"

These words seemed to make no impression whatsoever on Grawp. He stooped a little (the centaurs' arms tensed on their bows), then bellowed, "HAGGER!"

A few of the centaurs looked worried now. Hermione, however, gave a gasp.

"Oh Merlin..." she whispered into Charlie's chest. "I think he's trying to say 'Hagrid'!"

At this precise moment Grawp caught sight of them, the only three humans in a sea of centaurs. He lowered his head another foot or so, staring intently at them. Charlie could feel Hermione shaking as Grawp opened his mouth wide again and said, in a deep, rumbling voice, "Hermy."

"Goodness," gasped Hermione, gripping Charlie's arm so tightly it was growing numb. "H-He remembered!"

"HERMY!" roared Grawp. "WHERE HAGGER?"

"I don't know!" squealed Hermione, terrified. "I'm sorry, Grawp, I don't know!"

"GRAWP WANT HAGGER!"

In a fit of rage, the giant yelled and stamped his enormous feet. The centaurs instantly attempted to scatter out of the way; pebble-sized droplets of Grawp's blood showered Charlie as he pulled Hermione and Harry along, seeing an opportunity for an escape.

The three of them ran as fast as they could for the shelter of the trees. Once there, they looked back; Grawp was snatching blindly at the centaurs as blood ran down his face; they were retreating in disorder, galloping away through the trees on the other side of the clearing. Charlie, Harry and Hermione watched Grawp give another roar of fury and plunge after them, smashing more trees aside as he went.

"Oh no," said Hermione, shaking so badly that her knees gave way. "Oh, that was horrible... and he might kill them all."

"I'm not that fussed, to be honest," growled Harry bitterly as Charlie moved to help Hermione back to her feet; they shared a comforting smile.

The sounds of the galloping centaurs and the blundering giant grew fainter and fainter. This day just kept getting worse and worse; the three of them were now stranded in the middle of the Forbidden Forest with no means of transport whatsoever.

"Smart plan," Harry spat at Hermione, having to release some of his fury. "Really smart plan. Where do we go from here?"

Hermione shrugged, whispering faintly, "We need to get back up to the castle."

"By the time we've done that, Sirius'll probably be dead!" roared Harry, kicking a nearby tree in temper.

"Well, we can't exactly do much without our wands now, can we?" barked Charlie, his protective side growing angry as this had been the second time Harry had snapped at Hermione. "So, there's no need to get your knickers in a twist because, quite frankly, it isn't exactly helping the situation!"

"It's okay," whispered Hermione helplessly, trying to relieve the tension between the two boys; Charlie's face immediately softened. "We just need a new plan... any ideas on how we might get to London?"

"Yeah, we were just wondering that." said a familiar voice from behind her.

Charlie, Harry and Hermione moved together instinctively and peered through the trees.

Ron came into sight, closely followed by Elaina, Ginny, Neville and Luna. All of them looked a little distressed - there were several long scratches running the length of Ginny's cheek; Elaina's knuckles were beaten and bruised; a large purple lump was swelling above Neville's right eye; Ron's lip was bleeding worse than ever - but all were looking rather pleased with themselves.

"So," smiled Ron, pushing aside a low-hanging branch and holding out Harry's wand, "had any ideas?"

"How did you get away?" asked Harry in amazement, taking his wand from Ron.

"Couple of Stunners, a Disarming Charm, Neville preformed a really nice little Impediment Jinx," beamed Ron airily, now handing back Charlie and Hermione's wands, too.

"I took care of Malfoy with a Bat Bogey Hex," smirked Elaina proudly. "It was pretty superb, if I do say so myself - his whole face was covered in the great flapping things."

Ron laughed lightly before turning back to his three friends, "Yeah, anyways, we saw you out of the window heading into the Forest and followed. What've you done with Umbridge?"

"She got carried away," sniggered Charlie, unable to control himself. "By a herd of centaurs."

"And they left you behind?" asked Ginny, looking astonished.

Harry shook his head, "No, they got chased off by Grawp."

"Who's Grawp?" Luna asked interestedly.

"Hagrid's little brother," said Ron promptly. "But, never mind that now. Harry, what did you find out in the fire? Has You-Know-Who got Sirius or - ?"

"Yes," said Harry, as his scar gave another painful prickle, "and I'm sure Sirius is still alive, but I can't see how we're going to get there to help him."

They all fell silent, looking rather scared; the problem facing them seemed insurmountable.

"Well, we'll have to fly, won't we?" suggested Luna, in the closest thing to a matter-of-fact voice Charlie had ever heard her use.

"First of all," began Harry irritably, rounding on her, "'we' aren't doing anything if you're including yourself in that, and second of all, we only have Ron's broomstick that isn't being guarded by a security troll, so -"

Ginny squealed excitedly, "I've got a broom!"

"Yeah, but you're not coming," dismissed Ron angrily.

"Excuse me, but I care what happens to Sirius as much as you do!" retaliated Ginny, her jaw set so that her resemblance to Fred and George was suddenly striking.

Harry began, "You're too -"

But Ginny cut him off fiercely, "I'm three years older than you were when you fought You-Know-Who over the Philosophers Stone!"

"Well, I'm definitely coming," yawned Elaina, unbothered as if it wasn't even an option for her not to tag along. "I mean, not to brag or anything, but I'm kind of the reason Malfoy's stuck back in Umbridge's office with giant flying bogies attacking him -"

"Yeah, but -"

"We were all in the DA together," muttered Neville quietly. "It was all supposed to be about fighting You-Know-Who, wasn't it? And this is the first chance we've had to do something real - or was that all just a game or something?"

Harry's face faltered, taken aback, "No - of course it wasn't -"

"Then we should come too," shrugged Neville simply. "We want to help."

"That's right," said Luna, smiling happily.

Harry looked round to Charlie and Ron. There was an obvious doubt in the ability of this given team, especially when considering the probability of going up against the Dark Lord -

"Well, it doesn't matter, anyway," grunted Harry through a clenched jaw, "because we still don't know how to get there -"

"I thought we'd settled that," questioned Luna maddeningly. "We're flying!"

"Look," began Ron, barely containing his anger, "you might be able to fly without a broomstick but the rest of us can't sprout wings whenever we -"

Luna cut him off, speaking serenely, "There are ways of flying other than with broomsticks."

"I s'pose we're going to ride on the back of the Kacky Snorgle or whatever it is?" Ron demanded.

"The Crumple-Horned Snorkack can't fly," said Luna in a dignified voice, "but they can, and Hagrid says they're very good at finding places their riders are looking for."

Charlie whirled round. Standing between two trees, their white eyes gleaming eerily, were two Thestrals, watching the whispered conversation as though they understood every word.

"Good thinking, Luna," he whispered, moving towards them. They tossed their reptilian heads, throwing back long black manes, and Charlie stretched out his hand eagerly and patted the nearest one's shining neck.

"Is it those mad horse things?" whispered Ron uncertainly, staring at a point slightly to the left of the Thestral Charlie was patting. "Those ones you can't see unless you've watched someone snuff it?"

"Yeah," affirmed Harry, gaping at the two Thestrals as though he were relieved to see them for the first time ever.

"How many?"

"Just two."

"Well, we need four," sighed Hermione, who was still looking a little shaken, but determined just the same.

"Five, Hermione," said Ginny, scowling.

Elaina laughed, "Looks like we're sharing!"

"Wait," called Luna, and she looked round calmly, counting to be sure, "I think there are eight of us, actually."

"Don't be stupid, we can't all go!" snapped Harry angrily. "Look, you four -" he pointed at Elaina, Neville, Ginny and Luna, "you're not involved in this, you're not -"

They burst into more protests. Harry's scar gave another, more painful, twinge. Every moment they delayed was precious; he did not have time to argue.

"Okay, fine, it's your choice," he said curtly, "but unless we can find more Thestrals you're not going to be able -"

"Oh, more of them will come," said Ginny confidently, who like Ron was squinting in quite the wrong direction, apparently under the impression that she was looking at the horses.

"What makes you think that?"

"Because, in case you hadn't noticed, you, Charlie, and Hermione are covered in blood," she said coolly, "and we know Hagrid lures Thestrals with raw meat. That's probably why these two turned up in the first place."

As if on queue, Charlie felt a soft tug on his robes and looked down to see the closest Thestral licking his sleeve, which was damp with Grawp's blood.

"Okay, then," Harry said, a bright idea occurring, "Charlie and I will take these two and go ahead. Hermione can stay here with you five, and she'll attract more Thestrals -"

"I'm not staying behind!" shouted Hermione furiously.

"There's no need," said Luna, smiling. "Look, here come more now... you three must really smell..."

Charlie turned; no fewer than seven more Thestrals were picking their way through the trees, their great leathery wings folded tight to their bodies, their eyes gleaming through the darkness. Harry had no excuse now, and Charlie laughed.

"Alright," he said with a charming smile, "looks like we're good to go then."

-------------------

Charlie wound his hand tightly into the mane of the nearest Thestral, placed a foot on a stump nearby and scrambled clumsily on to the horse's silken back. It did not object, but twisted its head around, fangs bared, and attempted to continue its eager licking of his robes.

He found there was a way of lodging his knees behind the wing joints that made him feel more secure, then looked around at the others. Neville had heaved himself over the back of the next Thestral and was now attempting to swing one short leg over the creature's back. Luna was already in place, sitting side-saddle and adjusting her robes as though she did this every day. Ron, Hermione, Elaina and Ginny, however, were still standing motionless on the spot, open-mouthed and staring.

"How're we supposed to get on?" gulped Ron faintly. "We can't see the things!"

"Oh, it's easy," shrugged Luna, sliding obligingly from her Thestral and marching over to him, Elaina, Hermione and Ginny. "Come here..."

She pulled them over to the other Thestrals standing around, and one by one managed to help them on to the back of their mount. All four looked extremely nervous as she wound their hands into their horses mane and told them to grip tightly before she got back on to her own steed.

"This is mad," Ron murmured, moving his free hand gingerly up and down his horse's neck. "Absolutely mental... if I could just see it -"

"You'd better hope it stays invisible," muttered Harry darkly. "We all ready, then?"

All of his friends nodded, and Harry watched as each of their knees clung tightly to the bodies of their Thestrals; they were ready for take off.

With a sweeping movement that nearly knocked Charlie off of the Thestral's back, wings on either side extended; the horse crouched slowly, then rocketed upwards so fast that Charlie had to clench his arms and legs tightly around the horse to avoid sliding backwards. He closed his eyes and pressed his face down into the horses silky mane as they burst through the topmost branches of the trees and soared out into a blood-red sunset.

The Thestral streaked over the castle, its wide wings hardly beating. The cooling air was slapping against Charlie's face. With his eyes screwed up against the rushing wind, he looked round and saw his seven fellows soaring alongside him, each of them bent as low as possible into the neck of their Thestrals.

They were over the Hogwarts grounds, they had passed Hogsmeade; Charlie could see mountains and gullies below them. As the daylight began to fail, Charlie saw small collections of lights as they passed over more villages, then a winding road on which a single car was beetling its way home through the hills -

Twilight fell; the sky was turning to a light, dusky purple littered with tiny silver stars, and soon only the lights of Muggle towns gave them any clue of how far from the ground they were, or how very fast they were travelling.

On they flew through the gathering darkness; Charlie's face felt stiff and cold, his legs numb from gripping the Thestral's sides so tightly, but he did not dare shift his position lest he slip.

Suddenly, Charlie's stomach gave a jolt; the Thestral's head was suddenly pointing towards the ground and he actually slid forwards a few inches along its neck. And now, bright orange lights were growing larger and rounder on all sides; they could see the tops of buildings, streams of headlights, and squares of pale yellow that were windows.

Quite suddenly, it seemed, they were hurtling towards the pavement; Charlie gripped the Thestral with every last ounce of his strength, braced for a sudden impact, but the horse touched the dark ground as lightly as humanely possible. Looking around at the street, Charlie spotted a vandalised telephone box, drained of colour in the flat orange glare of the streetlights.

Immediately after, his friends landed beside him; Harry touched down gracefully, while Ron landed a short way off and toppled immediately from his Thestral onto the pavement. Hermione and Ginny touched down on either side of him; both slid off their mounts a little more cautiously than Ron, though with similar expressions of relief at being back on firm ground. Neville jumped down, shaking; Elaina looked surprisingly invigorated as though she enjoyed the rush; and Luna dismounted smoothly.

"Where do we go from here, then?" she asked in a politely interested voice, as though this was all a rather interesting day-trip.

"This way," bellowed Charlie. He gave his Thestral a quick, grateful pat, then led the way quickly to the battered telephone box and opened the door.

The eight of them squashed in, one after the other, very obediently. As uncomfortably as it may have been, Charlie found himself pressed into a corner by Hermione, who had naturally placed a hand on his chest to steady herself. The two of them shuddered, heat was rising in their cheeks at the proximity of their bodies. It amazed them both how strange things were between them now -

"Whoever's nearest the receiver, dial six two four four two!" Harry called.

Ron did it, his arm bent bizarrely to reach the dial; as it whirred back into place the cool female voice sounded inside the box.

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

"Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Charlie Hawthorne," Harry said very quickly, and Charlie tensed at the slight gasp on the other line at the mention of his name. "Elaina Dumont, Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood... we're here to save someone, unless your Ministry can do it first!"

"Thank you," said the cool female voice. "Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes."

Eight badges slid out of the metal chute where returned coins normally appeared. Hermione scooped them up and handed them out; each of them pinning the badge to their clothes.

Suddenly, the floor of the telephone box shuddered and the pavement rose up past its glass windows; blackness closed over their heads and with a dull grinding noise they sank down into the depths of the Ministry of Magic.

Not long after, the woman's voice spoke up again, "The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening."

The door of the telephone box burst open; Harry toppled out of it, closely followed by Neville and Luna. The only sound in the Atrium was the steady rush of water from the golden fountain, where jets from the wands of the witch and wizard, the point of the centaur's arrow, the tip of the goblin's hat and the house-elf's ears continued to gush into the surrounding pool.

"I always did hate this place," muttered Charlie sadly as he looked around, but it appeared as though no one had heard him.

"Come on," said Harry quietly, and the eight of them sprinted off down the hall, Harry in the lead, past the fountain.

Charlie's feelings of foreboding increased as they passed through the golden gates to the lifts; their was a significant absence of security, which was an obvious ominous signs. Harry had pressed the nearest 'down' button and a lift clattered into sight almost immediately, the golden grilles slid apart with a great, echoing clanking and they dashed inside. Harry stabbed the number nine button; the grilles closed with a bang and the lift began to descend, jangling and rattling.

When the lift halted, the cool female voice said, "Department of Mysteries," and the grilles slid open. They stepped out into the corridor where nothing was moving but the nearest torches, flickering in the rush of air from the lift.

They marched over the threshold of the plain black door that Harry had been dreaming about for months, and found themselves standing in a large, circular room. Everything in here was black including the floor and ceiling; identical, unmarked, handleless black doors were set at intervals all around the black walls, interspersed with branches of candles whose flames burned blue.

The door closed by itself, and without the long chink of light from the torchlit corridor behind them, the place became so dark that for a moment the only things they could see were the bunches of shivering blue flames on the walls and their ghostly reflections in the marble floor floor.

An uncomfortable silence fell upon them as they stood in the darkness, awaiting for something to happen.

Ron shook nervously, asking, "Where do we go, then, Harry?"

"I dunno," Harry began, and he gulped loudly, proving his uncertainty. "In the dreams I went through the door at the end of the corridor from the lifts into a dark room - that's this one - and then I went through another door into a room that kind of... glitters. We should try a few doors," he said hastily, "I'll know the right way when I see it."

"Just going to put this out there," whispered Charlie sarcastically, "the last time we tried a door... we encountered a three-headed dog."

"That's not helping," muttered Elaina, stifling a giggle as the lot of them marched straight at the door they were facing.

Harry led the way inside when the door swung open, and his seven friends followed quickly behind. They were each on high alert, their wands raised in a readied position as they stepped over the threshold.

The room was dimly lit and rectangular, and the centre of it was sunken, forming a great stone pit some twenty feet deep. They were standing on the topmost tier of what seemed to be stone benches running all around the room and descending in steep steps like an amphitheatre.

There was a raised stone dais in the centre of the pit, on which stood a stone archway that looked so ancient, cracked and crumbling. Unsupported by any surrounding wall, the archway was hung with a tattered black veil which, despite the complete stillness of the cold surrounding air, was fluttering very slightly as though it had just been touched.

"Sirius?" whispered Harry, jumping down on to the bench below. There was no answering voice, but the veil continued to flutter and sway.

Charlie scrambled down the benches one by one after Harry until he reached the stone bottom of the sunken pit. His footsteps echoed loudly as he walked slowly towards the dais. The pointed archway looked much taller from where he stood now. Still, the veil swayed gently, as though somebody had just passed through it.

"Sirius?" Harry spoke again, but more quietly now that he was nearer.

There was this undeniable, yet strangest, feeling that there was someone standing right behind the veil on the other side of the archway. Gripping his wand very tightly, Charlie edged around the dais, but there was nobody there; all that could be seen was the other side of the tattered black veil.

"Let's go," called Hermione from halfway up the stone steps. "This isn't right, guys, come on, lets go."

She sounded scared, much more scared than she had been previously, and Charlie had instantly moved to retreat back up the stairs. Harry, however, was fascinated by the veil. The gently rippling intrigued him; he felt a very strong inclination to climb up on the dais and walk through it.

Charlie sighed, walking back over to Harry, and attempted to pull his friend forward.

"Harry, let's go, okay?" he said softly, "Sirius isn't here."

"Okay," Harry said, but did not move, and Charlie knew exactly why. They both had just heard something. There were faint whispering, murmuring noises coming from the other side of the veil.

"Someone's whispering behind there," Harry said, pulling himself out of Charlie's grasp and continuing to frown at the veil. "Is that you, Ron?"

"I'm here, mate," muttered Ron, appearing around the side of the archway.

"Can anyone else hear that?" Charlie asked, and his eyes were suddenly transfixed on the veil for the whispering and murmuring was becoming louder. Without really meaning to put it there, he found his foot was on the dais.

"I can hear them too," breathed Luna, joining them around the side of the archway; she gazed at the swaying veil. "There are people in there!"

"There's no one there," whispered Hermione, as she jumped down from the bottom step, walking over to Charlie worriedly. "It's just an archway, there's no room for anyone to be there." Hermione pulled at Charlie's sleeve, attempting to tear his gaze from the veil, "Charlie, please, we are supposed to be here for Sirius."

"Sirius," Harry repeated, still gazing, mesmerised, at the continuously swaying veil. "Right... let's go."

Hermione led the way back around the dais, pulling Charlie along with her, and the eight of them marched back to the lowest stone bench and clambered all the way back up to the door, despite the attraction to the swaying veil below.

"What d'you reckon that arch was?" Harry asked Hermione as they regained the dark circular room.

"I don't know, but whatever it was, it was dangerous," she said firmly, inscribing a fiery cross on the door to mark the places they had already been.

Once more, the lot of them approached another door. With a feeling of increasing desperation, Harry pushed open the door.

"This is it!"

There was a brilliant glare caused by beautiful, dancing, diamond-sparkling light. As Charlie's eyes became accustomed to the blinding light, he took in the sight of the room with his mouth slightly agape.

They were there, they had found the place; high as a church and full of nothing but towering shelves covered in small, dusty glass orbs. They glimmered dully in the light issuing from more candle-brackets set at intervals along the shelves. Like those in the circular room behind them, their flames were burning blue. The room was very cold.

Charlie edged forward and peered down one of the shadowy aisles between two rows of shelves. He could not hear anything or see the slightest sign of movement. Hermione's timid whisper was the only thing heard amongst the silence.

"Harry," she called to him, "you said it was row ninety-seven, didn't you?"

"Yeah," breathed Harry, looking up at the end of the closest row. Beneath the branch of blue-glowing candles protruding from it glimmered the silver figure fifty-three.

"We need to go right, I think," whispered Hermione, squinting to the next row. "Yes... that's fifty-four.."

"Keep your wands ready," Harry said softly.

They crept forward, glancing behind them as they went down the long alleys of shelves, the further ends of which were in near-total darkness. Tiny, yellowing labels had been stuck beneath each glass orb on the shelves. Some of them had a weird, liquid glow; others were as dull and dark within like blown light bulbs.

They passed row eighty-four... eighty-five... Charlie was listening hard for the slightest sound of movement as he walked alongside Harry at the front of the group.

I hope we aren't too late, he thought to himself, his heart now hammering against his Adam's apple. Please be here, Sirius. Please don't let this all be for nothing -

"Ninety-seven!" whispered Hermione.

They stood grouped around the end of the row, gazing down the alley beside it. There was nobody there.

"He's right down at the end," said Harry, whose mouth had become slightly dry. "You can't see properly from here."

And he led them between the towering rows of glass balls, some of which glowed softly as they passed -

"He should be near here," whispered Harry, convinced that every step was going to bring the ragged form of Sirius into view on the darkened floor. "Anywhere here... really close..."

"Harry?" whispered Hermione tentatively, but he did not want to respond. His mouth was very dry.

"Somewhere about... here..."

They had reached the end of the row and emerged into more dim candlelight, There was nobody there. All was echoing, dusty silence.

"He might be..." Harry whispered hoarsely, peering down the next alley. "Or maybe..." He hurried to look down the one beyond that.

Hermione called out again, "Harry?"

"What?" Harry snarled, his grasp tightening around his wand.

"I... I don't think Sirius is here."

Nobody spoke. Harry did not want to look at any of them. No one could understand why Sirius was not there.

Harry was visibly distressed... he didn't want to believe that he had been wrong. He ran up the space at the end of the rows, staring down them. Empty aisle after empty aisle flickered past. He ran the other way, back past his staring companions. There was no sign of Sirius anywhere, nor any hint of a struggle.

"Uh, Harry" Ron called out, his voice nervously anxious. "Have you seen this?"

"Seen what?" Harry spat towards Ron, coming to an angry halt. He strode back to where they were all standing, a little way down row ninety-seven, and found Ron staring at one of the dusty glass spheres on the shelf.

"It's... It's got your name on," gulped Ron, pointing in the direction of the tiny glass ball.

Charlie narrowed his eyes in the direction of which Ron had been pointing. Sure enough, there was one of the small glass spheres that glowed with a dull inner light, though it was very dusty and appeared not to have been touched for many years.

Harry blinked, "My name?"

He stepped forward, and Charlie watched curiously as he craned his neck for a closer look. There was a yellowish label affixed to the shelf right beneath the dusty glass ball. In spidery writing was a date written sixteen years earlier, and below that:

S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D.
Dark Lord and Harry Potter (?)

"What is it?" Elaina asked, sounding unnerved. "Why would your name be on something down here?"

"Harry, I don't think you should touch it," whispered Hermione sharply, as soon as Harry stretched out his hand.

"Why not?" Harry asked, perplexed. "It's something to do with me, isn't it?"

"Don't, Harry," pleaded Neville suddenly; his round face was shining slightly with sweat. He looked as though he could not take much more suspense.

"But," Harry began slowly, "it's got my name on."

And feeling slightly reckless, Harry closed his fingers around the dusty ball's surface. Expecting, even hoping, that something dramatic was going to happen, Harry lifted the glass ball down from its shelf and stared at it.

Nothing whatsoever happened. The others moved in closer around Harry, gazing at the orb as he brushed it free of the clogging dust. And then, from right behind them, a drawling voice spoke.

"Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me."

Suddenly, black shapes were emerging out of thin air all around them, blocking their way left and right; eyes glinted through slits in hoods, a dozen lit wand tips were pointing directly at their hearts; Ginny gave a gasp of horror.

"To me, Potter," repeated the drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy as he held out his hand, palm up.

Charlie's insides plummeted sickeningly. They were trapped, and outnumbered two to one. This feeling of foreboding that he had endured since entering the Ministry finally made sense. Protectively, he took step in front of Hermione, Ginny, and Elaina, shielding them from the Death Eaters.

Harry's grasp tightened around the glass ball, his chest puffing out, "Where's Sirius?"

Several of the Death Eaters laughed; a harsh female voice from the midst of the shadowy figures to Charlie's left said triumphantly, "The Dark Lord always knows!"

"Always," echoed Malfoy softly. "Now, give me the prophecy, Potter."

"I want to know where Sirius is!"

"I want to know where Sirius is!" mimicked the unidentified woman to Lucius's left.

She and her fellow Death Eaters had closed in so that they were mere feet away from the group of Hogwarts students, the light from their wands dazzling Charlie's eyes.

"You've got him," reiterated Harry, ignoring the rising panic in his chest. "He's here. I know he is."

"The little baby woke up fwightened and fort what it dweamed was twoo," said the woman in a horrible, mock baby voice. Charlie felt Ron stir beside him.

"Don't," he muttered, and Ron visibly let out a shaky breath. "Not yet -"

The woman who had mimicked Harry let out a raucous scream of laughter as though she thought Charlie's attempt at tranquility was ridiculous.

"It's time you learned the difference between life and dreams, Potter," growled Malfoy, and more of the Death Eaters laughed. "Now give me the prophecy, or we start using wands."

"Go on, then," taunted Harry, raising his own wand to chest height. As he did so, the seven wands of Charlie, Ron, Hermione, Elaina, Neville, Ginny and Luna rose on either side of him.

But the Death Eaters did not strike.

Malfoy tried to reason again, muttering coolly, "Hand over the prophecy and no one needs to get hurt."

"Yeah, right!" laughed Harry harshly. "I give you this - prophecy, is it? And you'll just let us skip off home, will you?"

The words were hardly out of his mouth when the female Death Eater shrieked: "Accio Proph-"

Thinking quickly, Charlie shouted, "Protego!" before she had finished her spell, and although the glass ball had slipped from Harry's fingers when he jumped from the sudden outburst, he managed to cling on to it.

"Oooo, he knows how to play!" the witch from beside Lucius Malfoy said, her mad eyes staring at Charlie through the slits in her hood. "Itty, bitty baby... I'm impressed, Hawthorne."

"As you should be," came a bone-chilling voice from amongst the shadows. "He is, after all... my son."

Charlie shuddered as the colony of Death Eaters parted, and none other than the pale, twisted face of Fenwick Hawthorne emerged from the depths of the darkness. He wore his infamous mortifying smirk, but the shrieks and gasps from Charlie's friends, made his sinister smile grow wider.

There was an undeniable gaze that fell upon the side of Charlie's face; all of his friends were looking to him for answers, but he couldn't bare to look back at them. His head was racing, and his heart was hammering loudly in his chest.

"I apologize for my late arrival," laughed Fenwick, his eyes fixated tauntingly upon Charlie's, clearly amused by his reaction. "But you know how much I love to make an entrance."

The woman stepped forward, away from her fellows, and pulled off her hood. Azkaban had hollowed Bellatrix Lestrange's face, making it gaunt and skull-like, but it was alive with a feverish, fanatical glow.

"You're just in time, Fenwick," she smiled, her rotten, yellow teeth on foul display. "We were just about to provide Potter and his friends, here, with some persuasion. Take the smallest one," she ordered the Death Eaters beside her. "Let them watch while we torture the little girl... I'll do it."

Charlie felt the others close in around Ginny; he stepped sideways so that he was right in front of her.

"Now, now, Bella..." scolded Fenwick in a soft, menacing voice, his jaw tightening. "If I may interject... I see no reason why they all shouldn't suffer the same punishment for defiance. However, we have strict orders not to put that prophecy at stake." He shifted his gaze back to Charlie, smiling triumphantly, "That being said, if such act of inefficiency continues, brute force might be our option..."

Charlie watched with a heavy heart as Fenwick's dangerously dark eyes shifted from him to Hermione, who trembled horrifically at the sudden attention.

"You lay a hand on any of us," spat Charlie angrily, his hand wrapped so tightly around his wand that his knuckles were turning white, "and I'll smash that bloody glass ball right in front of you. Now, I don't think your boss will be too pleased if you come back without it, will he?"

Fenwick did not move; he merely stared at his son, the tip of his tongue moistening his sadistic mouth.

"So," began Harry victoriously, his hands clasped firmly around the glass ball, "what kind of prophecy are we talking about, anyway?"

"What kind of prophecy?" repeated Bellatrix, the grin fading from her face. "You jest, Harry Potter."

"Nope, not jesting," dismissed Harry, his eyes flicking from Death Eater to Death Eater, looking for a weak link, a space through which they could escape. "How come Voldemort wants it?"

Several of the Death Eaters let out low hisses.

"You dare speak his name?" whispered Bellatrix, her tone in an angry disbelief. "You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your half-blood's tongue, you dare -"

"It's alright, Bella," smirked Fenwick, clearly amused, "He's just a curious lad, aren't you, Mr. Potter?"

"Did you know he's a half-blood too?" muttered Harry recklessly, ignoring Fenwick completely; Charlie heard Hermione gasp softly next to his ear. "Voldemort? Yeah, his mother was a witch but his dad was a Muggle - or has he been telling you lot he's pure-blood?"

"STUPE-"

"NO!"

A jet of red light had shot from the end of Bellatrix Lestrange's wand, but Malfoy had deflected it; his spell caused hers to hit the shelf a foot to the left of Charlie and several of the glass orbs there shattered.

"DO NOT ATTACK! WE NEED THE PROPHECY!"

"He dares!" shrieked Bellatrix incoherently, "He stands there - filthy half-blood -"

Malfoy bawled, "WAIT UNTIL WE'VE GOT THE PROPHECY!"

The dust from the shattered spheres had melted into thin air. Nothing remained of them but fragments of glass upon the floor. They had, however, given Harry an idea. The problem was going to be conveying it to the others.

"You haven't told me what's so special about this prophecy I'm supposed to be handing over," he said, playing for time. He moved his foot slowly sideways, feeling around for someone else's.

Fenwick sniggered, "Do not play games with us, Potter."

"I'm not playing games," shrugged Harry, half his mind on the conversation, half on his wandering foot, and then he found someone's toes and pressed down upon them; a sharp intake of breath behind him told him they were Hermione's.

She whispered, "What?"

"Can this be?" laughed Fenwick, sounding maliciously delighted; some of the Death Eaters were laughing again.

Undercover of their laughter, Harry hissed to Hermione, moving his lips as little as possible, "Smash shelves..."

"Dumbledore never told you?" Malfoy repeated, astonished. "Merlin, Potter, haven't you ever wondered what the reason was for the connection between you and the Dark Lord? Why he was unable to kill you when you were just an infant? With that prophecy, you too, can know the truth... just hand it over."

"Why did Voldemort need me to come get this?" asked Harry; behind him he felt Hermione passing his message to the others and he sought to keep talking, to distract the Death Eaters. "Why couldn't he just come get it himself?"

"Why?" Malfoy sounded incredulously delighted. "Because the only people who are permitted to retrieve a prophecy from the Department of Mysteries, Potter, are those about whom it was made."

"This is all very lucky for you," added Fenwick, trying to sound persuasive. "All the answers are there, Potter, in your hand. The secret about that scar on your forehead can finally be unraveled. All you have to do is give it to me, then I can show you everything."

"I've waited fourteen years," began Harry, and he hoped that his friends were ready for what he was about to do.

"I know, dear boy," said Fenwick, reaching out a hand in attempt to grab the prophecy. "I truly do."

"So, I guess I can wait a little longer," continued Harry, and he raised his wand sharply, yelling, "NOW!"

Eight different voices bellowed, "REDUCTO!"

The curses flew in eight different directions and the shelves opposite them exploded as they hit; the towering structure swayed as a hundred glass spheres burst apart, the torrent of crashing glass and splintered wood now raining down upon the floor -

"RUN!" Harry yelled, as the shelves swayed precariously and more glass spheres began to fall from above.

Charlie seized Hermione's hand and gently pulled her forwards, holding one arm over their heads as chunks of shelf and shards of glass thundered down upon them.

A Death Eater lunged forwards through the cloud of dust and Charlie elbowed him hard in the masked face; they were all yelling, there were cries of pain, and thunderous crashes as the shelves collapsed upon themselves, weirdly echoing fragments of glass being smashed on the floor -

Charlie found the way ahead clear and saw Ron, Ginny, Luna, and Elaina sprint past him, their arms over their heads. Something heavy struck Charlie on the side of the face, but he merely ducked his head and sprinted onwards. Suddenly, a hand caught him by the shoulder; he heard Hermione shout, "Stupefy!", and the hand released him at once -

They were at the end of row ninety-seven, Charlie turned right and began to sprint in earnest. He could hear footsteps right behind him and Harry's voice urging Neville on. Straight ahead, the door through which they had come was ajar and he pelted through the doorway, awaiting the others to hurtle over the threshold before slamming the door behind them -

"Colloportus!" gasped Hermione and the door sealed itself with an odd squelching noise.

"W-Where are the others?" gasped Harry, searching the room.

Charlie looked around, and his mouth fell agape. He had thought Elaina, Ron, Luna and Ginny were ahead of them, that they would be waiting in this room, but there was nobody there.

"They must have gone the wrong way!" whispered Hermione, terror in her face.

"Wait," Charlie hushed them; Neville clapped a hand over his mouth, "listen."

Footsteps and shouts echoed from behind the door they had just sealed; Charlie put his ear against the door and heard Lucius Malfoy roar, "Leave him, Nott - his injuries will be nothing to the Dark Lord compared to losing that prophecy. We'll split into pairs and search, and don't forget, be gentle with Potter until we've got the prophecy, you can kill the others if necessary. Now, let's go! Quickly!"

"What do we do?" Hermione asked Harry, trembling from head to foot.

"Well, we don't stand here waiting for them to find us, for a start," said Harry at once, the prophecy still clasped in his hands. "Let's get away from this door."

They ran as quietly as they could towards the exit into the circular hallway at the far end of the room. They were almost there when Charlie heard something large and heavy collide with the door Hermione had charmed shut.

"Stand aside!" said a rough voice. "Alohomora!"

As the door flew open, Charlie, Harry, Hermione and Neville dived under desks. They could see the bottom of the two Death Eaters' robes drawing nearer, their feet moving rapidly.

"They might've run straight through to the hall," said the rough voice.

"Check under the desks," said another.

Charlie saw the knees of the Death Eaters bend; poking his wand out from under the desk, he shouted, "STUPEFY!"

A jet of red light hit the nearest Death Eater; he fell backwards into a grandfather clock and knocked it over. The second Death Eater, however, had leapt aside to avoid Charlie's spell and was pointing his own wand at Hermione, who was crawling out from under the desk to get a better aim.

"AVADA-"

Charlie launched himself across the floor and grabbed the Death Eater around the knees, causing him to topple and his aim to go awry. Harry overturned a desk in attempt to help, and pointing his wand wildly at the struggling pair, he cried:

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

Charlie and the Death Eater's wands flew out of their hands and soared back towards the entrance to the Hall of Prophecy; both scrambled to their feet and charged after them, the Death Eater in front, Charlie hot on his heels, and Neville bringing up the rear.

"Get out of the way, Charlie!" yelled Neville, clearly determined to help.

Charlie flung himself sideways as Neville took aim again and shouted:

"STUPEFY!"

The jet of red light flew right over the Death Eaters shoulder and hit a glass-fronted cabinet on the wall; the cabinet fell to the floor and burst apart, glass flying everywhere, shattering into a million pieces -

The Death Eater had snatched up his wand, which lay on the floor. Charlie ducked down behind another desk as the man turned; his mask had slipped so that he couldn't see.

He ripped it off with his free hand and shouted, "STUPE-"

"STUPEFY!" screamed Hermione, who had just caught up with them alongside Harry. The jet of red light hit the Death Eater in the middle of his chest; he froze, his arm still raised, and he collapsed backwards towards the floor.

"Accio Wand!" cried Hermione. Charlie's wand flew from a dark corner into her hand, and she ran over to him, kneeling down before handing it over to him. "Charlie! Oh God, are you alright?"

"I'm okay, thanks to you," he smiled, and Hermione blushed. Charlie scrambled to his feet before taking his wand back in his hands. He looked around to Harry and Neville, nodding, "Right, let's get out of here."

As if on queue, there was a shout from a room nearby, then a crash and a scream.

"RON?" Harry yelled, whipping his head around instantly. "ELAINA? GINNY? LUNA?"

Charlie, Harry, Hermione, and Neville took off for the door that stood open at the other end of the room, leading back into the black hallway. They had run halfway towards it when Charlie saw, through the open door, two more Death Eaters running across the black room towards them. Veering left, he burst instead into a small, dark, cluttered office and slammed the door behind them.

"Collo-" began Hermione, but before she could complete the spell, the door had burst open and the two Death Eaters had come hurtling inside.

With a cry of triumph, both yelled:

"IMPEDIMENTA!"

Charlie, Harry, Hermione and Neville were all knocked backwards off their feet. Neville was thrown over the desk and disappeared from view; Hermione smashed into a bookcase and was promptly deluged in a cascade of heavy books; Harry thrashed amongst the chairs, crashing into all of them and knocking them over; the back of Charlie's head slammed into the stone wall behind him, tiny lights burst in front of his eyes and for a moment he was too dizzy and bewildered to react.

"WE'VE GOT HIM!" yelled the Death Eater nearest Harry. "IN AN OFFICE OFF -"

"Silencio!" cried Hermione and the man's voice was extinguished. He continued to mouth through the hole in his mask, but no sound came out. He was thrust aside by his fellow Death Eater.

"Petrificus Totalus!" shouted Harry, as the second Death Eater raised his wand. His arms and legs snapped together and he fell forwards, face down on to the rug at Harry's feet, stiff as a board and unable to move.

"Well done, Ha-"

But the Death Eater Hermione had just struck down made a sudden slashing movement with his wand, and a streak of what looked like purple flame passed right across Hermione's chest. She gave a tiny "Oh!" as though of surprise and crumpled on to the floor, where she lay motionless.

"HERMIONE!"

Charlie scrambled to his feet and ran over to her unconscious body. He collapsed to his knees next to her as Neville crawled rapidly towards her from under the desk, his wand held up in front of him. The Death Eater kicked hard at Neville's head as he emerged - his foot broke Neville's wand in two and connected with his face. Neville gave a howl of pain and recoiled, clutching his mouth and nose.

Charlie twisted around, his own wand held high, and saw that the Death Eater had ripped off his mask and was pointing his wand in at him. Charlie recognized the long, pale, twisted face from the Daily Prophet... Antonin Dolohov.

Shaking with anger, Charlie caught sight of Harry creeping up behind Dolohov. With a little nod, Harry kicked over a desk, creating a crash that made Dolohov look over his shoulder. Charlie immediately seized his chance, yelling:

"PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!"

The spell hit Dolohov before he could block it and he toppled forwards across his comrade, both of them rigid as boards and unable to move an inch.

"Hermione," Charlie turned back around at once, shaking her as Harry tended to Neville. "C'mon, Hermione, wake up... please, baby..." he was overcome with emotion that the word simply slipped from his lips.

"Whaddid he do to her?" said Neville, crawling out from under the desk to kneel at her other side, blood streaming from his rapidly swelling nose; Harry stood overtop of them, watching in horror as a wave of guilt flushed over him.

"I dunno..."

Neville groped for Hermione's wrist.

"Dat's a pulse, Char, I'b sure id is."

Such a powerful wave of relief swept through Charlie that for a moment he felt as though he could cry.

"She's alive?"

"Yeah, I dink so," affirmed Neville, and Harry put a confronting hand on Charlie's shoulder.

"Char, we're not far from the exit," Harry suggested softly. "We're right next to that circular room... we can try to find the right door before any more Death Eaters come, I'll bet you can get Hermione up the corridor and into the lift... then you could find someone... raise the alarm... Neville can go with you..."

"And whad are you going do do?" asked Neville, mopping his bleeding nose with his sleeve and frowning at Harry.

Harry took a sharp intake of breath, "I've got to find the others."

"Yeah," Charlie muttered firmly, his eyes not moving from Hermione's unconscious body, "and we're going with you."

"But Hermione -"

"We're taking her with us," Charlie said firmly, "I'll carry her, as long as you and Neville make sure to cover me."

Not taking no for an answer, Charlie slipped his hands under Hermione's limp form and hoisted her into his arms, securing her firmly in his grasp as he followed Harry and Neville back out the door; Neville took Hermione's wand for the time being.

They crept out of the office and back towards the door into the black hallway, which now seemed completely deserted. The recent blow on the back of Charlie's head seemed to have unsteadied him; he narrowed his eyes, swaying slightly, but held Hermione tightly in his arms, making sure she was safe.

Just as Harry, Charlie, and Neville were contemplating on which door to try, a door to their right sprang open and four people fell forwards.

"Ron!" croaked Harry, dashing towards them. "Elaina - Ginny - Luna! Are you guys alright?"

"Harry," breathed Ron, relieved as he seized the front of Harry's robes, gazing at him with unfocused eyes, "there you are."

Ron's face was very white and something dark was trickling from the corner of his mouth. In the next moment, his knees had given way, but he still clutched the front of Harry's robes, so that Harry was pulled into a kind of bow.

"Ginny?" Harry said fearfully. "What happened?"

But Ginny shook her head and slid down the wall into a sitting position, panting and holding her ankle.

"I think her ankle's broken, I heard something crack," whispered Luna, who was bending over her and who alone seemed to be unhurt. "Four of them chased us into this really dark room... it was hard to see what was happening."

"But we made it out," Elaina sighed optimistically, although the gash on her cheek said otherwise. "We're okay..."

"Good," Harry smiled towards Elaina, his tone firm. "Now, let's get out of here. Luna, can you help Ginny?'

"Yes," said Luna, sticking her wand behind her ear for safekeeping, then putting an arm around Ginny's waist and pulling her up.

"It's only my ankle, I can do it myself!" yelled Ginny impatiently, but in the next moment, she had collapsed sideways and grabbed Luna for support. Harry pulled Ron over his shoulder, and Elaina helped Neville clean up his face.

They heaved towards a door; they were within a few feet of it when another door across the hall burst open and three Death Eaters sped in, led by Bellatrix Lestrange.

"There they are!" she shrieked.

Stunning Spells shot across the room: Harry smashed his way through the door ahead, flung Ron unceremoniously from him and ducked back to help Charlie in with Hermione. They were all over the threshold just in time to slam the door against Bellatrix.

"Colloportus!" shouted Harry, and he heard three bodies slam into the door on the other side.

"It doesn't matter!" said a man's voice. "There are other ways in - WE'VE GOT THEM, THEY'RE HERE!"

Charlie spun around; they were back in the sunken pit where the stone archway stood on its dais. He could hear footsteps in the hall behind them as more Death Eaters came running to join the first.

"Ron - Elaina - Luna - Neville - help me!"

Harry's voice ricocheted frantically off the walls. The five of them tore around the room, trying to seal the door to protect themselves and the prophecy.

"Colloportus!"

There were footsteps running along behind the door, and every few seconds another heavy body would launch itself against it, so it creaked and shuddered; Luna and Neville were trying to bewitch the door, but a surge of panic fell over the Hogwarts students as Elaina cried:

"Collo-aaaaaaaaargh."

Charlie turned in time to see her flying through the air. Five Death Eaters were surging into the room through the door she had not reached in time; Elaina hit a stone bench, slid over its surface and onto the floor on the other side where she lay sprawled, as still as Hermione.

"Get Potter!" shrieked Bellatrix, and she ran at him; Harry dodged them, to the best of his ability, while trying to maintain a firm grasp on the prophecy.

"STUBEFY!" shouted Neville, wheeling around and waving Hermione's wand at the oncoming Death Eaters, "STUBEFY, STUBEFY!"

But nothing happened.

One of the Death Eaters shot their own Stunning Spell at Neville; it missed him by inches. Ron had been hit was a Stunning Spell and flew backwards; Ginny was already immobilized with her broken ankle; Luna was hit squarely in the face with a streak of red light from a Death Eater's wand. The only ones left were Neville, Harry, and Charlie -

As much as it killed him to do so, Charlie acted quickly, laying Hermione's unconscious body next to Elaina's before ducking for cover. Harry had ran to meet him, and the two of them sent off streams of silver light like arrows, which missed, but left craters in the wall behind them.

Charlie and Harry made a break for it as Bellatrix Lestrange raced right after them; their only hope to protect their friends was to draw the Death Eaters away. Not watching where he was going, Charlie stumbled down the steep steps, bouncing on every tier until at last, with a crash that knocked all the breath out of his body, he landed flat on his back at the foot of the archway.

The whole room was ringing with the Death Eater's laughter as Harry was quick to follow suit, crashing down onto the stone next to Charlie. Many more Death Eaters emerged through other doorways and began leaping from bench to bench towards the two boys in the centre.

Harry and Charlie scrambled to their feet. The prophecy was still miraculously unbroken in Harry's left hand, his wand clutched tightly in his right; Charlie and him stood back to back, both of their wands raised. They looked around fearfully, trying to keep all the Death Eaters within sight.

"Tell me," drawled Fenwick Hawthorne, pulling off his mask as he approached the two boys upon the dais, "did you honestly believe that you children stood a chance against us?" He laughed harshly, adding, "Or were you seriously that naive?"

"I'll make this simple for you, Potter," came Lucius Malfoy's cold voice as he made his presence known. "You either hand over the prophecy or -"

"Or watch your friends die," finished Fenwick, his gaze hauntingly focused on Charlie as though everything had come full circle.

Charlie shook his head, his breathing heavy, but his wand hoisted firmly in the air, "Don't give it to them, Harry."

But Harry did not take Charlie's words as a viable option; there was no choice. The prophecy was hot with the heat of his clutching hand as he held it out. Malfoy jumped forwards to take it.

Then, high above them, two more doors burst open and five more people sprinted into the room; Sirius, Lupin, Moody, Tonks and Kingsley.

"OI!" travelled Sirius's amused voice as it ricocheted off of the walls, "GET AWAY FROM MY GODSON!"

Malfoy turned, and raised his wand, but Tonks had already sent a Stunning Spell right at him. Charlie did not wait to see whether it had made contact, but dived off the dais out of the way.

The Death Eaters were completely distracted by the appearance of the members of the Order, who were now raining spells down upon them as they jumped from step to step towards the sunken floor. Through the darting bodies, the flashes of light, Charlie could see Harry crawling along. He dodged another jet of red light and flung himself flat on the ground to reach Harry.

"Are you okay?" he yelled, as another spell soared inches over their heads.

"Yeah, all good," nodded Harry, trying to pull himself up. "What about yo-"

The stone floor between them exploded as a spell hit it, leaving a crater right where Charlie's hand had been only seconds before; both scrambled away from the spot, then a thick arm came out of nowhere, seized Harry around the neck and pulled him upright, so that his toes were barely touching the floor.

"Give it to me," growled a man's in his ear, "give me the prophecy -"

The man was pressing so tightly on Harry's windpipe that he could not breathe. Through watering eyes, he saw Sirius duelling with a Death Eater some ten feet away; Kingsley was fighting two at once; Tonks, still halfway up the tiered seats, was firing spells down at Bellatrix - nobody seemed to realise that Harry was dying.

He turned his wand backwards towards the man's side, but had no breath to utter an incantation, and the unidentified Death Eater's free hand was groping towards the hand in which Harry was grasping the prophecy -

"AARGH!"

Charlie had come lunging out of nowhere; unable to articulate a spell, he had punched the Death Eater hard across the face. The man relinquished Harry at once with a howl of pain. Harry whirled around to face him and gasped:

"STUPEFY!"

The Death Eater fell over backwards and his mask slipped off; it was Macnair, Buckbeak's would've-been killer, one of his eyes swelling with a bright, purple bruise forming around it.

"Thanks!" Harry said to Charlie, pulling him aside as Sirius and his Death Eater lurched past, duelling so fiercely that their wands were blurs.

It was a quick moment of fleeting security, and a new attacker was bearing down upon Harry and Charlie in a record time; Dolohov, his long pale face twisted with glee.

He made the same slashing movement with his wand that he had used on Hermione just as Charlie yelled, "Protego!"

Charlie felt something streak across his face like a blunt knife; the force of it knocked him sideways and he toppled over Harry, but the Shield Charm had stopped the worst of the spell.

Dolohov raised his wand again. "Accio Proph-"

Sirius had hurtled out of nowhere, rammed Dolohov with his shoulder and sent him flying out of the way. The prophecy had again flown to the tips of Harry's fingers but he had managed to cling on to it. Now Sirius and Dolohov were duelling, their wands flashing like swords, sparks flying from their wand-tips -

Dolohov drew his wand back, but Harry sprung up, yelling, "Petrificus Totalus!" and once again, Dolohov's arms and legs snapped together and he keeled over backwards, landing with a crash on his back.

"Nice one, James!" shouted Sirius, forcing Harry's head down as a pair of Stunning Spells flew towards them. "Now, take the prophecy, grab Charlie and run! You've done beautifully, but let us take it from here."

Even though he hadn't wanted to leave Sirius, Harry nodded, and as though he seemed that to be good enough, Sirius took off after Bellatrix. Another jet of green light flew over Harry's head as he launched himself towards Charlie, who had been helping Professor Lupin battle a no longer masked Rookwood.

With a yank on his robes, Charlie whipped his head around. The look of relief was evident as he caught sight of Harry, and the two subconsciously agreed to seize the chance to escape.

Out of nowhere, however, a man lunged at them; both of them fell backwards, landing hard on the stone floor. Charlie's wand nearly slipped from his hands, and Harry had held his left arm in the air, trying to save the glass ball from being shattered.

"The prophecy, give me the prophecy, Potter!" snarled Lucus Malfoy's voice in his ear, and Harry felt the tip of Malfoy's wand pressing hard between his ribs.

"No! Get - off - me... Char - catch it!"

Harry flung the prophecy across the floor, Charlie turned himself around on his back and scooped the ball to his chest. Malfoy pointed the wand instead at Charlie, but Harry jabbed his own wand back over his shoulder and yelled, "Impedimenta!"

Malfoy was blasted off his back. As Charlie scrambled up again, he looked around and saw Malfoy smash into the dais on which Sirius and Bellatrix were now duelling. Malfoy aimed his wand at Harry and Charlie again, but before he could draw breath to strike, Lupin had jumped between them.

"You two! Round up the others and GO!"

Harry seized Charlie's arm and pulled him to the first tier of stone steps; Charlie gripped the prophecy tightly in his hands. A spell hit the stone bench at their heels; it crumbled away and Harry fell back to the step below. Charlie sank to the ground as another spell was sent in his direction, his legs jerking and thrashing, as an immense pain flooded his veins.

The spell was being performed by the recovered, Fenwick Hawthorne, who had risen to his feet just in time to attempt to stop his son from escaping. Charlie felt like the wind had been knocked out of him as he flew back, crashing back down the steps as though he were a rag doll being dragged.

"Come on!" yelled Harry desperately, hauling at Charlie's robes in attempt to pull him back up.

"Harry!" bellowed Charlie, holding out the prophecy, "Take this! Quickly!"

Harry reached for it, and forgot momentarily that he was helping Charlie keep his balance - Charlie slid backwards down the final step; the small spun-glass ball slipped from from his fingertips and, before either of them could catch it, it suspended themselves in midair for a fleeting moment before it smashed on the step between them.

The force pulling at Charlie had subsided, and he immediately gasped for air. Him and Harry stared at where the prophecy had broken, appalled at what had happened - everything... had been for nothing.

"H-Harry," panted Charlie, his face anguished as he moved to stand once again. "What the bloody hell do we do?! The prophecy -"

"It doesn't matter!" Harry shouted, "Let's just get out of here!"

Charlie gazed onwards, and as though a prayer had been answered, he felt this electric charge surge through every particle of his body - they were saved. To his utmost disbelief, Albus Dumbledore, was framed in the doorway just ahead of them, his wand aloft, and his face pale and furious.

"Dumbledore," whispered Charlie, his saddened face suddenly transported as he stared over Harry's shoulder.

"What?"

"Harry!" beamed Charlie, pointing to the doorway. "It's my grandfather!"

Harry whipped around, an immense feeling of relief flushing over him. There was no describing the awe in which one would feel at the sight. Dumbledore sped down the steps past Charlie and Harry, who no longer wanted to leave.

Dumbledore was already at the foot of the steps when the Death Eaters nearest realised he was there and yelled to the others; Fenwick had seemingly disappeared back into the shadows. One of the Death Eaters ran for it, scrabbling up the stone steps opposite. Dumbledore's spell pulled him back effortlessly as though he had hooked him with an invisible line -

Only one pair was still battling, apparently unaware of the new arrival. Charlie and Harry saw Sirius duck Bellatrix's jet of red light; he was laughing at her.

"Come on, you can do better than that!" he yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room.

The second jet of light, however, hit him squarely on the chest. The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock. Charlie and Harry ran back down the stone steps, wands in hand as they headed for the dais once again.

It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall; his body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backwards through the ragged veil hanging from the arch.

Harry saw the look of mingled fear and surprise on his godfather's face as he fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as though in a high wind, then fell back into place.

Charlie heard Bellatrix Lestrange's triumphant scream, but knew it meant nothing - Sirius had only just fallen through the archway, he would reappear from the other side any second...

But Sirius did not reappear.

"SIRIUS!" Harry yelled. "SIRIUS!"

The two boys had reached the floor, their breaths coming in searing gasps. Charlie froze, realizing something must've gone wrong. In contrast, Harry was determined that everything was going to be okay. Sirius must be just behind the curtain, he, Harry, would pull him back out...

But as Harry reached the ground and sprinted towards the dais, Lupin grabbed him around the chest, holding him back.

"There's nothing you can do, Harry -"

"Get him, save him, he's only just gone through!"

"- it's too late, Harry."

"We can still reach him -" Harry struggled hard and viciously, but Lupin would not let go.

"There's nothing you can do, Harry... nothing... he's gone."

(A/N: brb... crying.)

"He hasn't gone!" Harry yelled, but tears began streaming down his face.

Harry did not want to believe it. He would not believe it, and so he fought against Lupin's grasp wth every bit of strength he had.

"SIRIUS!" he bellowed. "SIRIUS!"

"He can't come back, Harry," whispered Lupin, his voice breaking as he struggled to contain Harry. "He can't come back, because he's d-"

"HE - IS - NOT- DEAD!" roared Harry. "SIRIUS!"

There was movement going on around them, pointless bustling, the flashes of more spells. To Harry it was meaningless noise, the deflected curses flying past them did not matter, nothing mattered except that Lupin should stop pretending that Sirius - who was standing feet from them behind that old curtain - was not going to emerge at any moment, shaking back his dark hair and eager to re-enter the battle.

Lupin dragged Harry away from the dais. Harry still staring at the archway, was angry at Sirius now for keeping him waiting -

But some part of him realised, even as he fought to break free from Lupin, that Sirius had never kept him waiting before. The only possible explanation was that he could not come back... that he really was -

Dumbledore had most of the remaining Death Eaters grouped in the middle of the room, seemingly immobilised by invisible ropes; Mad-Eye Moody had crawled across the room to where Tonks lay, and was attempting to revive her; behind the dais there were still flashes of light, grunts and cries - Kingsley had run forward to continue Sirius's duel with Bellatrix.

"Harry?"

Charlie had slid down the stone benches one by one to the place where Harry stood. Harry was no longer struggling against Lupin, who maintained a precautionary grip on his arm nevertheless.

"Harry... I'm sorry..." whispered Charlie softly, his heart wrenching in sorrow for his best friend. "I'm so sorr-"

The words didn't get to leave Charlie's mouth completely before Harry had whipped around, tearing away from Lupin's grasp, and collapsed tearfully upon Charlie's shoulder. Lupin's face was pale at the sight, and he looked as though he was fighting to hold back tears of his own.

(A/N: #Charry owns my heart...)

"L-Let's get you two out of here," said Lupin quietly, "Where are the others, Char?"

Lupin turned away from the archway as he spoke. It sounded as though every word was causing him pain.

"They're all up there," whispered Charlie softly, pointing to the top tier of stone stairs as Harry sobbed into his shoulder. "They're all in a right state though... Hermione's unconscious, but Neville said he found a pulse -"

There was a loud bang and a yell from behind the dais. Charlie saw Kingsley hit the ground yelling in pain; Bellatrix Lestrange turned tail and ran as Dumbledore whipped around. He aimed a spell at her but she deflected it; she was halfway up the steps now -

"Harry - no!" cried Lupin, but Harry had his eyes locked on his target, a willingness for revenge replacing his sadness.

"SHE KILLED SIRIUS!" bellowed Harry. "SHE KILLED HIM - AND NOW I'LL KILL HER!"

And he was off, scrambling up the stone benches; people were shouting behind him but he did not care, he was blinded by rage. Charlie set off after him, but was quickly caught on the arm by his grandfather.

"Please, let go," croaked Charlie, his eyes fixated on the spot where Harry had disappeared. "He's going to do something he'll regret! Let me help him!"

But Dumbledore shook his head.

"You've done your part, Charles," whispered Dumbledore softly, as he put a graceful hand on his grandson's shoulder. "Leave the rest up to me. Go tend to your friends, make sure they're okay. Nymphadora will accompany you to make sure we don't run into anymore problems."

With a reluctant sigh, Charlie let Tonks pull him up the stone steps away from the chaos. He ran up the benches, stuffing his wand back in his robes as he reached his friends. Luna and Elaina were groaning foggily on the floor; Ginny was clutching her ankle with a distressed look on her face; Neville was helping Ron to his feet; and Hermione remained unconscious.

He kneeled down next to her, and Charlie's heart filled with emotion. Change had occurred so quickly, making everything so hard to process. In that moment, however, the world fell silent as if everything in existence had fallen into mourning. Charlie looked round, the faces of his dearest friends were flushed with anguish, and he wondered how they'd ever recover from the turmoils of tonight's events.

In the far distance, Charlie could hear the clang and clattering of a duel coming from the Atrium of the Ministry, and he shuddered at the thought of Harry or his grandfather in danger. And so, he leaned down, placing a soft, lingering kiss on Hermione's forehead before scrambling to his feet once again, running in the direction of the commotion.

Despite Tonks's cries of disapproval, Charlie didn't stop running. He wasn't going to sit back and allow what had happened to Sirius happen with anyone else he loved, and if that meant sacrificing himself, then so be it.

"It was foolish of you to come here, Tom," Charlie heard his grandfather's calm voice as he approached; he kneeled down out of sight, "The Aurors are on their way -"

Sure enough; tall, thin and black-hooded, his terrible snakelike face white and gaunt, his scarlet, slit-pupilled eyes staring... Lord Voldemort stood in the middle of the hall, his wand raised triumphantly.

"By which time I shall be gone, and you will be dead!" spat Voldemort. He sent another killing curse at Dumbledore but missed, instead hitting the security guard's desk, which burst into flame.

Charlie watched in horror as the two engaged in a duel; jets of green light were soaring around the room, and Dumbledore had drawn back his wand and waved it as though brandishing a whip. A long thin flame flew from the tip; it wrapped itself around Voldemort, and for a few seconds, he was visible only as a dark, rippling, faceless figure -

Then he was gone, vanished in plain sight.

"Stay where you are, Harry!"

For the first time, Dumbledore sounded frightened. Harry, who had seemingly fallen to the ground at the base of the fountain, was shaking with immense force, pain bursting in his scar.

Voldemort may have been gone from the hall, but he was locked in the depths of the boy he despised. They were fused together, bound by pain, and there was no escape, and when the Dark Lord spoke, he used Harry's mouth, so that in the boy's agony, he felt his jaw move -

"Kill me now, Dumbledore..."

Blinded and dying, every part of him screaming for release, Harry felt the creature use him again -

"If death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy... the weak, vulnerable boy..."

Charlie seized the opportunity to step out of his hiding place, rushing over to Harry immediately, determined to help. Dumbledore, however, had once again caught his grandson around the wrist, holding him back.

"Not yet," he whispered urgently.

Charlie looked to Harry desperately, awaiting the outcome of what was bound to happen. Soon enough, he could see his friend's body jerk with resistance.

"You're the weak one," Harry muttered, seemingly talking to himself, but was, in reality, fighting against the Dark Lord's influence. "You'll never know love, or friendship... and I feel sorry for you."

Shortly after, the pain subsided from within Harry; he opened his eyes wide, coming to his senses. Charlie ran over to him, and this time Dumbledore had let him.

"Are you alright, mate?"

"Yes," said Harry, shaking so violently he could not hold his head up properly. "Wh-What happened? Where is V-Voldemort, where - who are all these - what's...?"

The Atrium was currently filling of people; the floor was reflecting the emerald green flames that had burst into fire in all the fireplaces along one wall; and streams of witches and wizards were emerging from them. Charlie pulled Harry to his feet, slinging an arm under his shoulder, just in time to hear Dumbledore address the forming crowd:

"If you proceed downstairs into the Department of Mysteries," he called, smiling with satisfaction that everyone was alright, "you will find several escaped Death Eaters contained in the Death Chamber, bound by an Anti-Disapparation Jinx and awaiting your decision as to what to do with them."

The crowd gasped; one man yelling, "Dumbledore!"

"I shall explain everything," began Dumbledore, raising a dismissive hand, "when I have returned my grandson and Harry Potter back to school."

Without hesitation, both Charlie and Harry's hands were seized, and a familiar sensation jerked within them. The polished wooden floor was gone from beneath Charlie's feet; the Atrium and the crowd had all disappeared, and he was flying forwards in a whirlwind of colour and sound.

-------------------

It had been a few days since the chaos at the Department of Mysteries, and everyone was in a recovery process.

Harry had been awfully quiet as he tried to process the death of Sirius Black; Ron, Elaina, and Luna hadn't suffered major damage and were back to normal soon enough; Ginny's ankle had been mended by Madame Pomfrey; Neville's nose had returned to its normal size and shape; and Hermione had finally awoken after Madame Pomfrey's efforts of healing.

The curse Dolohov had used on her, though less effective than it would have been had he been able to say the incantation aloud, had nevertheless caused, in Madame Pomfrey's words, "quite enough damage to be going on with". Hermione was having to take ten different types of potion every day, but was improving at a rapid pace.

Late in the evenings, Charlie would make a habit of sneaking down to the Hospital Wing to check on her. Hermione would always appear in a deep sleep, but Charlie remained stationed at her bedside nonetheless, watching her as she slept.

What Charlie had failed to realize, however, was that Hermione was always awake when he would visit. She couldn't muster up the courage to speak with him about what had happened, scared that the conversation would scare him off. And so, she laid still, relishing in the comfort and security at the sound of his racing heartbeat.

Charlie wanted to be there for her, in every way she had always been there for him. Not to mention, there was a huge part of him that longed to be close to her, loving her from a distance. It hadn't been a full week since their breakup, and yet, he couldn't find the strength within himself to stay away from her anymore.

And so, he took her hand in his, raising it to his lips, and kissing it gently as though he could mend all the damage he had caused. Hermione shuddered at the contact, her heart aching for him. At her movement, Charlie froze. He hadn't expected her to react in such a way; he peered over to her face, and saw her eyelids struggling to remain closed.

"I know you're awake."

Unable to keep up with the ruse, Hermione's eyes fluttered open, and almost immediately, they locked with Charlie's. There was an indescribable tension between the two of them for they had yet to talk with one another alone.

"Hi," Charlie breathed, his eyes fixated upon hers lovingly.

"H-Hi," Hermione stuttered, and she felt her chest begin to hammer in her chest.

There was a short moment of silence. Neither of them knew where to begin. With a deep, shaky breath, Charlie gathered all the courage he could.

"I'm sorry," he said, and he meant it wholeheartedly.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Hermione whispered, evident distress evident on her face. "About any of it?"

Charlie breathed heavily, his mind immediately on the reveal of his father, "I didn't know how to tell you."

Hermione seemed to struggle with herself for a moment, then said, "That's not an excuse."

"I know," Charlie muttered sadly, "but what was I supposed to say? My father is an undercover Death Eater planning to destroy us all? Honestly speaking, how do you think that revelation would've played out?"

"It wouldn't have mattered," dismissed Hermione, wincing slightly from the pain in her ribs. "I would've tried to help regardless, and you damn well know that! For Merlin's sake, I'm your girlfrien- was... was your girlfriend." she corrected, and Charlie's heart sunk into his stomach.

Charlie gulped, "It wouldn't have made much of a differenc-"

"It would've made all the difference in the world!" Hermione scolded, her eyes narrowing in his direction. "For one, it would've explained your solemn behaviour. Maybe then, I wouldn't of had to feel like a stranger intruding on your life."

Charlie's lips twitched, unable of what to say. He sat still in the echoing emptiness of the hospital wing, avoiding her eyes. He couldn't face her at the moment; Hermione with her great limpid auburn eyes that were so full of optimism, tears, and righteous indignation. Seeing himself in those eyes was seeing the Charlie he ought to be. Her enduring faith in him niggled his conscience, and he felt like he had let down the person he loved most in this world.

"It was supposed to be no one's burden but my own," he finally said, twiddling his thumbs out of nervousness. "It was meant to be that way. Please believe that had I been given the chance, I wouldn't have let that man walk around unscathed. Not after everything's he's done."

"That argument you told me about," Hermione began, her face scrunching as she raked her brain, "between you and your father last year, that's when you found out, wasn't it? My god, it all makes sense... the graveyard, your nightmares... it's been him all along, hasn't it?"

Charlie nodded slowly, frowning. Hermione's ability of putting pieces together didn't surprise him. In fact, it only made him dread what else she was determined to uncover.

"I hate feeling the way I do," he admitted through a barely audible whisper. "Feeling trapped... waiting for absolution as my body drains of life. My father's taken everything worth living for away from me. I'm hopeless... powerless... and there's nothing I can do to stop it." He gave a light, rueful chuckle, "And yet, I would rather spend the rest of my life struggling with the expectations of today than ever having to deal with the consequences of tomorrow."

Charlie buried his face into his hands, ashamed of his cryptic reveal. He noticed how Hermione's body stiffened as she listened, how her eyes flickered with a bit of apprehension. He couldn't expect her to understand, not after everything he had put her through.

"You aren't forced to struggle alone anymore, Charlie. You understand that, don't you?" she asked, reaching out for him, taking his hand in hers and caressing it gently. "I know now why you pushed me away. Things weren't easy, and sure, maybe they'll never be easy again, but let me at least be there for you. Nothing has to come between us anymore, we can work everything out together. I can do this. I want this... please."

A sodden, self-pitying little sniff rented the silence. Charlie sounded just like Moaning Myrtle, and the comparison did nothing for his self-esteem. He willed himself into a statue of total repose, his breaths torpid and facial features slack.

Then, in a breathless whisper, he said, "I can't."

Hermione's hopeful face had fallen. Charlie heard her sniffle. Those two little words echoed in her head hauntingly. This had been the finality in their break-up that Hermione dreaded would come. The silence that stretched between them added more distance, and Charlie faintly remembered a time when they could hardly be apart.

The truth was that Charlie couldn't give himself wholeheartedly to someone else when he knew, with the utmost certainty, that things were bound to get worse. Voldemort's appearance, his father's reveal, Harry's prophecy, were all indications of impending war.

As much as he loved Hermione, he had to let her go. Charlie knew that only fools in love were blind to the fact that with war comes death.

Everyone would soon be at war with different things, while Charlie would be fighting against his heart, clouded with undeniable emotions and behaving recklessly. Love and war are one in the same, you see, with only one distinct difference. In war, you either live or die, but in love, you neither live nor die. It's a never-ending cycle and Charlie wasn't emotionally prepared to fall victim to another trap.

"I'm sorry," Charlie whispered softly, closing his eyes as unnecessary tears decided to appear. He refused to cry over this, refused to be so emotionally scarred when he was the one making the choice to walk away.

"I love you," Hermione told him in a defeated tone and Charlie breathed heavily, guilt eating up at his heart. Hermione wrung her hands together, fresh tears forming on the edge of her eyelids.

Those words hung in the air for a moment, Charlie soaking it in. It amazed him how three words that used to have such a profound euphoric effect on him, had now transformed into something that crushed him deep within his core, shattering him to pieces. This was where they were now, and neither of them knew what to do with that.

Charlie stared at their interlocked hands for a long time, making Hermione terrified at the thought that he'd eventually let go and walk away. But Charlie surprised her. He released a slow, shaky breath before raising her hand to his lips, leaving a soft, lingering peck in his wake.

It would've been unfair of him to say the words back to her, completely and utterly unfair. For it would've given her a sense of hope for their future, hope that one day they'd find their way to each other and everything would fall back perfectly into place. Their future was uncertain and that was the cold, harsh reality of the situation.

And so, he responded shakily, through a throat clogged with emotion, whispering, "I know."

He pulled away, and for a fleeting moment, Hermione expected the words to leave his lips, for them to have this one last perfect moment together that no one dared to ruin.

But she never expected this.

"I should go," Charlie said, his voice broken and timid. "It's late."

And all Hermione could do was let him go, unable to say or do anything to keep Charlie in her life anymore.

------------------

Charlie was unsure where he was going. He simply let his feet carry him, his mind too foggy to comprehend anything other than what he had just done. His mind went blank, he wasn't thinking clearly. He was so far gone that he had yet to realize which room he had stumbled upon -

"Charles?" came a calm, familiar voice. "Is everything alright?"

The Headmaster's office had came it to view once Charlie was pulled back to reality. Everything seemed to have repaired itself during Dumbledore's absence. The portraits of the headmasters and headmistresses were snoozing in their frames, heads lolling back in armchairs or against the edge of the picture. Charlie looked through the window. There was a cool line of shadowy black along the horizon; twilight was approaching.

The silence and the stillness, broken only by the occasional grunt or snuffle of a sleeping portrait, was unbearable to him. Charlie couldn't manage to speak. To say everything aloud would be to make it final, absolute, irretrievable.

"Charles?" called the voice again, and Charlie's head snapped in its direction.

Albus Dumbledore came into view beside the perch in which Fawkes the Phoenix stood, swaying on the golden post.

"Is everything alright?" Dumbledore asked, his face crinkling with curiosity.

Charlie contented himself with nodding at the carpet, which was growing unreadable as the sky outside grew darker. Charlie turned his back on Dumbledore and stared determinedly out of the window. He could see the stadium in the distance, and it seemed strange to him how getting kicked off the Quidditch team felt like the end of the world once upon a time. It all felt so surreal, so distant as if it had happened years ago.

"There is no shame in what you are feeling," said Dumbledore's voice in a consoling tone. "On the contrary... the fact that you can feel pain like this is your greatest strength."

Charlie felt the white-hot anger toy with his insides, blazing in the terrible emptiness, filling him with the desire to ignore Dumbledore completely for his calmness and his empty words.

"My greatest strength, is it?" inquired Charlie, his voice shaking as he stared out at the Quidditch stadium, no longer seeing it. "You haven't got a clue... you don't know..."

"What don't I know?" asked Dumbledore calmly.

It was too much. Charlie turned around, shaking with a whirlwind of emotions.

"I don't want to talk about how I feel, alright?" He spoke with a defeated breath, "I've had enough. I don't care anymore."

"But you do care," countered Dumbledore. He had not made the slightest change in expression at Charlie's hostility. His expression was calm, almost detached. "You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it."

Charlie shuddered, whispering, "I'm fine."

But his tone wasn't capable of convincing anyone. His throat was clogged with emotion, causing him to speak through baited breath.

"I know you better than you think," smiled Dumbledore, trying to ease the situation. "And contrary to your belief, it is not a weakness to admit your struggle." Dumbledore let out a scornful sigh, "Please, my dear boy, take a seat."

Charlie hesitated, then walked slowly across the room now littered with moonlight peering in from the windows, and took the seat facing Dumbledore's desk.

"Charles, I owe you an explanation," said Dumbledore, sitting in his throne-like chair. "An explanation of an old man's mistakes. For I see now that what I have done, and not done, with regard to you, bears all the hallmarks of the failings of age. Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels. But old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young... and I seem to have forgotten, lately..."

The moon was rising properly now; there was a rim of dazzling black visible over the mountains and the sky above it had darkened. The moonlight fell upon Dumbledore, upon the silver of his eyebrows and beard, upon the lines gouged deeply into his face.

"I guessed many years ago," Dumbledore continued, his eyes staring off into the distance as though reminiscing. "Long before you were born, I guessed. The true loyalties of your father always did seem peculiar to me, and as time progressed, there was no denying the sign of connection between him and Voldemort."

Charlie blinked, "You knew?"

"Yes," whispered Dumbledore apologetically. "Yes, I knew. It became apparent, shortly after he became Minster, that I was correct. He was powerful, wealthy, and envious. He was the epitome of a man driven into madness. He grew angrier, lashing out when it was unnecessary. He was reckless with his decisions, not caring who he hurt in the process. But most of all, he was dangerous, willing to do anything for his master."

Charlie did not bother to nod. He knew all of this already.

"More recently," Dumbledore pressed on, "I became concerned for your part in all of this. Sure enough, there came a time where I was certain of your father's relentless attempt at making you in his image. I am speaking, of course, of the multiple occasions where your father tried to force inhumane ideologies upon you as a very young and impressionable child. Haven't you wondered why it is that you are so skilled in the art of Occlumency?"

Charlie shrugged, "Professor Snape told me that it was because you began teaching me at a young age."

"But the reason remains unclear," affirmed Dumbledore, and Charlie nodded shyly. "You see, I believed it would not be long before your father attempted to force his way into your mind, to manipulate and misdirect your thoughts in hopes that you may have received information that would've been beneficial to the Dark Lord. I feared the uses to which he would put you, the possibility that he might try and possess you. Charles, I believe I was right to think that your father would have made use of you in such a way. On rare occasions when we had close contact, I could've sworn I saw a shadow of him stir behind your eyes."

Charlie froze. He was letting all of this newfound information wash over him. He would have been so interested to know all of this a few months ago, but now it was meaningless compared to everything he had lost.

"Naturally," Dumbledore resumed, "it became my duty as your grandfather to force a greater urgency upon you to master the skill of Occlumency. You rose magnificently to the challenge and sooner - much sooner - than I had anticipated, you found yourself face to face with the real opposition. You survived. You did more. You forced your father's reveal much more than he had hoped, I'm sure. You fought a man's fight, and I am prouder of you than I can put into words."

Charlie stared into Dumbledore's blue eyes and said nothing, but his heart was racing again.

"And as horrendous as it may seem to say, especially after everything we've had to endure, a new challenge is on the horizon," Dumbledore said darkly. "This time, however, I'm afraid I have fallen into a trap that I should've foreseen."

"I don't underst-"

"I care about you far too much, Charles," admitted Dumbledore softly. "Just like your mother intended, I care more for your happiness than my own, more for your safety than anyone else's, more for your peace of mind than cruel reality, more for your life than the lives that might be lost if I had failed. In other words, I acted exactly as Voldemort expects we fools who love to act."

The moon had risen fully now; Dumbledore's office was bathed in its light. The glass case in which the sword of Godric Gryffindor resided gleamed white and opaque, and behind Charlie, Fawkes made soft chirping noises that provided a sense of comfort.

"There is no defence. I have tried my hardest to save you more pain than you had already suffered." Dumbledore breathed, watching Charlie with a soft smile. "And now, I admit my struggle for it is not a weakness, but a strength. I am unsure what the future holds, Charles, and I'm frightened." He took a great, shaky breath, "Frightened that I can no longer protect you from the demons that take the shape of your father."

There seemed to be very little air in Charlie's lungs; his breathing was quick and shallow. He looked up at his grandfather and saw a tear trickling down Dumbledore's face into his long silver beard.

"I owed you an explanation, but I apologize for burdening you with such responsibility," cried Dumbledore, his hands shaking. "I should have recognized the danger signs sooner. I should have known that there would come a time where I could no longer protect you. Do you see, Charles? Do you see the flaw in my brilliant plan now?"

"Granddad," Charlie began, his eyes searching Dumbledore's for more distinct answers, "what are you trying to say?"

Charlie waited, but Dumbledore did not speak.

"Please," the boy reiterated. "Help me to understand."

"Your father has resigned from his position as Minister for Magic," Dumbledore said finally, and he retracted a Daily Prophet article from the drawer of his desk and laid it on the table.

Charlie's eyes gazed over the headline and he darted down the page, reading quickly:

HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED RETURNS

"In a brief statement on Friday night, Minister for Magic, Fenwick Hawthorne confirmed that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned to this country and is once more active.

'It is with great regret that I must confirm that the Dark Lord is alive and among us again,' said Hawthorne, looking tired as he addressed reporters. 'It is with almost equal regret that we report the mass revolt of the dementors of Azkaban, who have shown themselves averse to continuing in the Ministry's employ. We believe the dementors are currently taking direction from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. At this time, we urge the wizarding population to remain vigilant.'

Details of the events that led to the Ministry turnaround are still hazy, though it is believed that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and a select band of followers (known as Death Eaters) gained entry to the Ministry of Magic itself on Thursday evening.

In the time of great peril, however, the Minister for Magic seems to be planning to step back, acknowledging his doubts of the Dark Lord's return.

'I must apologize to the entire wizarding community for how I have handled this situation,' Hawthorne continues in a heartfelt manner. 'However, the person I am most ashamed to have let down is my son, Charles. It was my own wrongdoing that allowed my pride to blind me from my son's truth, and for that I am truly sorry.'

The Minister pressed on, despite getting a little teary eyed, 'I have done my son an injustice, and recent events have opened my eyes to this fact. Naturally, this distrust has frayed our relationship. And so, I have come to a conclusion that will ensure the rehabilitation of the bond I once cherished. With a heavy heart, I will be stepping down from my position as Minister for Magic.'

There was an undeniable uproar of protest around the globe. As it appears, Fenwick Hawthorne will be taking a break in hopes of mending his broken relationship with his son.

'I have lost sight of what truly matters,' Hawthorne continued after silencing the crowd. 'I am a father first, and I will be using my resignation as a first step in reconciliation. In these difficult times, I find it in my best interest to take some much-needed time away. My focus will be entirely on my family. To Charles, my son, if you're reading this, I'll see you soon.'

The Minister concludes his speech in a dramatic fashion, leaving the entire wizarding community with an extreme emphasis on the important of family in such distressing times.

Thank you for you service, Fenwick Hawthorne. You will be greatly missed."

Charlie felt as though something was closing in on him. His breathing seemed difficult again as he finished reading. He looked up to Dumbledore, who was pinching the bridge of his nose in distress.

"That newspaper will be published tomorrow morning," whispered Dumbledore, peering at Charlie through his glasses. He scoffed, staring at the paper in disgust, "Never in my life have I seen such a perfected act of manipulation."

"How could this happen?" Charlie asked, his body going numb. "How come he wasn't captured like the rest of the Death Eaters?"

"He disappeared," muttered Dumbledore with a hint of anger. "Not surprising, is it? Your father is a master of charade. He's been doing it for years."

"But what does this mean?" Charlie asked in strangled voice. "You won't make me go with him, will you? You can't! You really mustn't -"

"I'll have no choice," mumbled Dumbledore sadly, "he is your legal guardian."

"Legal guardian?" Charlie questioned, absolutely perplexed. "He's been absent for the last eleven years of my life!"

"Nobody knows that, Charles," Dumbledore spoke softly, being mindful of upsetting the boy further. "To the world, he had been an ideal father fig-"

"The world has been lied to!" shouted Charlie, his eyes growing wide. "Please! You can't let him do this to me! Hogwarts is my home, I belong here! You can't just let him take me away!"

Dumbledore said nothing, but instead, got up from his chair, strode around his desk and engulfed his grandson in a tight hug. With that, the tears swelling in Charlie's eyes couldn't maintain balance on the rims of his eyelids any longer. And so, they fell, trickling down his boyish face as he sobbed heavily into his grandfather's robes. Charlie could not stand it anymore. There was a terrible hollow inside of him that he did not wish to feel any longer.

"I don't wanna go," the boy whimpered, and his words broke Dumbledore more than he thought possible. "Please don't let him take me."

The room fell into a bittersweet silence that masked muffled sobs and thick, saddened tension. There, in the moon-lit Headmaster's office, engaged in a hug, stood two souls; one that was already broken, and one that was about to be shattered -

(A/N: credit to TylerMatzuo for this part of the scene)

"You have to promise me," croaked Dumbledore, and Charlie could hear his heart hammering in his chest. "Promise me that, no matter what happens, you'll be safe. Let your heart save you. Just as it has done a million times before. Don't let him take your light away from you too." Dumbledore tried to muffled a sob, "Promise me."

Charlie closed his eyes. He could practically feel the tears staining on his face. There was a long moment of hesitation in which neither of them spoke; Fawkes's chirping had subsided. With a deep breath, Charlie dredged up the words from what felt like a deep well of despair inside him:

"I promise."

-------------------

Their last evening at school had arrived; most people had finished packing and were already heading down to the end-of-term leaving feast, but Charlie had not even started.

"Just do it tomorrow!" grunted Ron, who was waiting by the door of their dormitory next to Harry. "Come on, I'm starving."

"I won't be long... look, you two go on ahead..."

But when the dormitory door closed behind Harry and Ron, Charlie made no effort to speed up his packing. The very last thing he wanted to do was to attend the Leaving Feast. Anything that contributed to the idea of 'leaving' Hogwarts, left a bitter taste in Charlie's mouth.

He simply wanted to be alone. He had felt isolated from everybody since his talk with Dumbledore. An invisible barrier separated him from the rest of the world. And so, he remained in his dorm room for the remainder of the evening.

The sun had set before he had the chance to realize. He got into bed before his friends returned from the Feast because he didn't want to answer a million questions regarding his absence. Instead, he wiped his face with his sleeve so nobody knew that he had been crying, and tried to drift off to sleep.

Everyone had left the Hospital Wing three days before the end of term, seemingly mended from their injuries. Harry was still not sure whether or not he wanted to talk about his godfather yet; his wishes varied with his mood. Charlie never mentioned the topic, unwilling to deal with the grievances of other people whilst he tried to deal with his own.

Professor Umbridge had been found in the Forest, treated by Madame Pomfrey, and was gone the day before the term's end; Peeves seized the opportunity to chase her gleefully from the premises, whacking her alternately with a walking stick and a sock full of chalk. Dumbledore had been reinstated as Headmaster, and not long after, Hagrid had returned.

As expected, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were on a warpath of revenge after their fathers were sentenced to time in Azkaban for their loyalty to the Dark Lord. Much to Charlie's dismay, Fenwick wasn't in Azkaban, nor did he appear anywhere else. He had vanished after the news broke out of his resignation, and the world didn't seem to care for he was quickly replaced by Rufus Scrimgeour -

The following morning, Charlie walked slowly and miserably down through the castle, ready to bid farewell to his friends for the fifth summer in a row. The carriages were all lined up as Charlie made his way down to the grounds; the sun perfectly accented the leathery wings of the Thestrals that pulled the carriages.

Luna Lovegood was the first to approach him, and Charlie breathed slowly upon realization that he could hardly muster the energy to avoid anyone at the moment.

"Hello," said Luna vaguely, stepping forward to hand him a note.

"Hi Luna," Charlie said, forcing a smile as he took the note in his hands. "How are you?"

"Well, I've lost most of my possessions," said Luna serenely. "People take them and hide them, you know. But as it's the last day, I really do need them back, so I've been handing out signs."

Charlie looked down at the piece of paper in his hands. Sure enough, it was a list all her missing books and clothes, with a plea for their return.

An odd feeling arose in Charlie; an emotion quite different from the anger and sadness that had filled him since the Department of Mysteries. He was feeling sorry for Luna.

"How come people hide your stuff?" he asked her, frowning.

"Oh... well..." she shrugged. "I think they think I'm a bit odd, you know. Some people call me 'Loony' Lovegood, actually."

Charlie looked at her and the new feeling of pity intensified rather painfully.

"That's no reason for them to take your things," he said flatly. "D'you want help finding them?"

"Oh, no," she said, smiling at him. "They'll come back. Things we lose always have a way of coming back to us in the end."

They looked at each other. Luna was smiling slightly. Charlie did not know what to say, or to think; Luna believed so many extraordinary things -

"I'll just wait for it all to turn up," beamed Luna happily. "Keep an eye out though, will you?" Charlie nodded, and Luna smiled, "Thanks! Well, have a nice holiday, Charlie!"

"Yeah... you too."

Luna walked away from him and, as Charlie watched her go, he found that the terrible weight in his stomach seemed to have lessened slightly.

Charlie made his way over to the carriage in which Harry, Ron, Hermione, Elaina, Neville, and Ginny were loading their luggage. Immediately upon his arrival, they all turned to him and smiled.

"Hey, Char," called Ron, and Charlie was ultimately surprised that the ginger had been the first to acknowledge him.

Charlie could tell by Ron's sudden nervousness that he was trying to be apologetic. In all honesty, Ron's jealous actions were something swept under the rug by Charlie a long time ago, but the two had yet to address it. At the end of the day, they were like brothers, and life was way too short to hold a grudge.

As if Ron had read Charlie's mind, he stepped forward, throwing himself around his best friend, enclosing him in a tight hug. Charlie sniggered slightly, but hugged back nonetheless.

"I missed you too, mate," Charlie chuckled, as Ron released him from their brother-like hug; all was well. With that, Ron climbed on top of the carriage and took his seat.

Charlie looked to Elaina next, smiling, "Au revoir."

Elaina giggled at the boy's attempt at a French accent, reminiscing instantly on their earlier conversation.

"Au revoir, mon ami," she said with her famous smile, and like Ron, climbed into the carriage.

"Take care, Charlie," beamed Ginny, loading the last of her bags onto the carriage before taking her seat. "Keep in touch."

Charlie nodded, waving, "Tell your parents I said hello."

As the friend group thinned to two, Charlie thought he had never wanted to say goodbye less than right now. He was completely unaware of what was in store for him this summer -

"Alright, my turn," called Harry, and Charlie turned around to be met with a hug. This hug was drastically different than the one the two boys had shared in the Department of Mysteries, and Charlie was extremely grateful for that.

"I'll write," affirmed Charlie as the two brother-like friends pulled away. "I want to make sure Dursley isn't being a pain. Give me a shout if you need me to come get you."

Harry laughed, "You'll be hearing from me shortly then."

"I bet," sniggered Charlie as Harry stalked off towards the carriage. He joined the others, leaving Hermione and Charlie alone to say goodbye.

Charlie could feel her eyes, her usually soft brown eyes, gazing into the side of his face. He turned towards her, their eyes meeting, and his heart hammered. If he could've, Charlie would stare at her all day. He thinks that the sight of her scrunched face, untidy curls, and bitten lips could not get any better. Her eyes were gleaming, and Charlie could tell that she was at a loss for words.

Hermione sighed, and to her horror, tears sprung up and leaked over her eyelids before she could stop them.

"I don't how I'm supposed to say goodbye to you," she whispered, and Charlie felt a sense of mourning flood his veins. He truly had lost her.

"It's not a goodbye," Charlie said softly, trying to lighten the mood. "I'll see you next ter-"

"That's not what I meant," Hermione said at once, her voice breaking slightly.

Charlie said nothing. Instead, his arm ensnared around Hermiones shoulder. She clung to him, hugging him tightly as though she was never planning to let go. Tears glistened down her cheek as the final call for the carriages rang through the grounds.

A small sob left Hermione's lips, and Charlie dangerously placed a kiss on the top of her head - he just couldn't help himself.

"You've got to go, 'Mione," he whispered, but his grip around her didn't loosen. Charlie felt her shake her head against his chest, and it took every ounce of strength he had to be the first one to pull away.

He held her hand, helping her on to the carriage. She watched him with saddened eyes, mapping his face as though she was taking a mental image that she'd take with her forever.

Everything was Charlie. Her heart ached for him, her memories were drawn for him, and even the very air screamed his name. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as the carriage began to move, and everyone summed up her sadness as a reaction to saying goodbye to her boyfriend for the summer holiday... they had no idea -

Charlie raised a hand in farewell, turned around and let his feet carry him back through the sunlit grounds of Hogwarts. He could not finds words to describe the way he was feeling. The only thing he kept wondering was whether he would ever feel cheerful again. There was only so much pain a person can take.

In his somber state, Charlie had failed to watch where he was going. As he walked through the corridor back towards Gryffindor Tower, he collided rather harshly with someone and was nearly knocked off his feet.

"Charles, my dear boy," called a rough, cold voice that made Charlie's eyes widen in disbelief. "There you are! Are you ready to go?"

Sure enough, Fenwick Hawthorne was stood in the deserted corridor, wearing his signature grey suit and that stupid smirk that Charlie hated so much. The ache in Charlie's heart deepened, tinging with just a little worry.

His jaw tightened, his fists clenched, "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Oh, you see, that's where you're wrong," Fenwick smiled devilishly. "I've made sure your bags have been packed, they're being moved as we speak. We leave today. Right now, in fact."

"I'd rather die," Charlie spat furiously, and he moved to step around his father in attempt of escaping.

Fenwick Hawthorne was a cruel man. He tortured his son for enjoyment. And so, it came as no surprise when Fenwick lunged forward, grabbing the boy by his shirt and yanking him back.

"Death is most certainly an option," growled Fenwick, his grip tightening so much that Charlie winced. "But not for you, that's far too easy. How about that little girlfriend of yours...? Would you prefer if I take my anger out on her? Huh?"

"Leave her out of this," Charlie jerked away, panic evident in his voice."Haven't you tortured me enough?"

"Things can get a lot worse. So, you better start doing as I say, boy," Fenwick snarled, grabbing Charlie's chin roughly. "We have a very long summer ahead of is, and I refuse to tolerate your foolish behaviour any longer."

"Where ar-"

"Hush, child," Fenwick spat bitterly, wrapping an arm around Charlie's wrist. There was a sharp pain as Fenwick squeezed tightly, and Charlie hissed. "Where we're going holds no importance in comparison to whom we're going to meet."

"Who?" Charlie whimpered, trying to yank his arm free. "Who are we going to see?"

Fenwick's malicious grin grew wider, causing Charlie to panic. His heart was beating rapidly, his eyelids were puffy and red, but Fenwick didn't seem to care. In fact, his face was twisted with ultimate enjoyment.

"Oh, the Dark Lord, of course," Fenwick sneered effortlessly, his smiling face in complete contrast to Charlie's look of horror. "You have quite the journey ahead of you. He has big plans for you, my dear boy... you have no idea what's coming..."

-------------------

Author's Note:
*this chapter has not been proof read*

AHHHHHH! That's a wrap on Order of the Phoenix! I hope you enjoyed year five of the story.

I apologize for the SUPER long chapter, but I wanted to get OotP over with. Chapters moving forward will be significantly smaller (10,000 words).

Spam with comments! I wanna know what you guys think about what's happened 👀

HBP is going to be one hell of a ride, and I hope you're as excited as I am <3

[insert begging for comments, votes, and shares]

Much love to you all! Your support is INSANE!

xo, Selena