Whenever you need me

by Blackphoenixfeather

Charlotte Black had a dark past, seeing the ones she loved slipping away from her life, though she never let that stop her from enjoying the family she still had. When she finally starts at Hogwarts, Charlotte will made new friends, discover things about her past and reencounter an old friend, while she deal with the feelings building inside of her for her very best friend.

10. Quidditch

Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry! I'm so sorry, guys. Four freaking months without updating! I bet most of you thought i wouldn't post anymore, but just to let you know, i'll NEVER abandon my fics. It might take a while, but I'll definitely update. Well, I had a few problems with college, problems at home, last week I had problems with my schedule and I've started working. So... Yeah. I just want to thank everyone who's still reading this kkkk I hope I'm doing a good job. Enjoy the chapter and leave comments. :)

Disclaimer: Don't own anything except Charlotte, Isabelle and eventual OCs.

oOo

Chapter 9 – Quidditch

.

As she laid on her bed in Halloween night – trying to avoid being killed by a stinking, vicious troll could make people really worn-out -, she wondered how her godfather was fairing. With all the rush that day brought, Charlotte almost forgot that Halloween wasn't merely a holiday full of fun and laugher.

The only thing that came to her mind was that Remus was hidden somewhere in their house, all alone, while feeling miserable with the memories of his deceased friends. The girl had half mind to turn back and run away from Hogwarts the next day, and go home, not wanting her guardian suffering for something he wasn't to blame for.

Nonetheless, apparently Charlotte was too predictable, at least to him, because in that morning, Maurice delivered a letter to her when she was having breakfast at the Great Hall. It was Remus'. It said that he was doing just fine so she had no reason to worry about. And he, at last, found a job—yet he never said where or doing what.

It did little to quell her anxiousness, though. What if something come to him and he just leave the cottage and end up hurt? She knew that Remus had a strange habit of running out of the door out of nowhere when he was feeling constricted, whether physically or emotionally.

When she received his letter, she suddenly recalled she had something to ask him. So she owled him back, saying that she was glad he was alright, but to contact the Tonks whenever he was feeling… well, down. It would be good for him to have some kind of company, and Charlie was sure Andromeda and Ted – and Dora -would welcome him with open arms if he ever needed anything.

She didn't mention much about his new job, only telling him how she was happy he finally found something to do. If Remus didn't tell her anything about it in his letter was because he really didn't want to or couldn't. Whatever the reason, it would be best for them to talk in person.

And finally, Charlotte requested Remus to search in the attic for their old box full of souvenirs. She recollected – even though she had no idea how, since she was just a little child at the time – her mother and Remus moving some stuff into a big strongbox as she only sat on her chubby legs by the window, watching them work.

One of the things they put in there was a navy blue family album with a leather strap at the middle—and that's what she wanted.

At first, she was kind of hesitant to ask for it, since it could spark some undesirable memories in Remus seeing all those old pictures of people who left his life too soon. Perhaps it wouldn't be nice to force her godfather to relive such bad things, she thought for a moment.

But no…

Every time Remus was in his gloomy mood, little Charlotte realized the subtle changes in his demeanor, his smile and the softening of his eyes, whenever someone accidentally talked about his years as a Marauder or all the troubles James or Sirius got themselves into.

It was like he went into a daze as his lips pulled up—the age lines on his face lessened and he seemed so much younger than his usual dejected self. It was a nice sight for everyone who spent enough time with the man and knew how much he hurt and kept bottled up within him.

That's what made her decide to ask him about the box. Charlotte wrote she needed the album as soon as possible, preferably with his answer, in hopes that he would take it all away from inside it and finally get over the guilt and suffering, and find some peace in his heart and mind.

She kept her fingers crossed.

oOo

At least something good came from Halloween. Hermione and the boys were getting along fairly well. Of course there still had the usual bicker between Ron and Hermione, but they weren't grimacing whenever they saw each other anymore—that was definitely a progress.

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaver skin boots.

The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing in his first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the House Championship.

Hardly anyone had seen Harry play because Wood had decided that, as their secret weapon, Harry should be kept, well, secret. But the news that he was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow – Charlotte was almost sure the twins were involved -, and Harry didn't know which was worse — people telling him he'd be brilliant or people telling him they'd be running around underneath him holding a mattress, although Charlie reassured him that Professor Dumbledore wouldn't let anything harm him—much.

…

Even if Ron would rather eat a pack full of cockroaches than admit it, it was obvious the boys were getting more cheerful ever since they befriended Hermione. They had gone as far as to include her in the conversation when they were talking about their beloved Quidditch—Harry and Ron knew the girl wasn't really a fan of the game, but she was obviously pleased for their effort.

As the weeks passed by, the teachers loaded them with assignments to last the whole month, and Hermione, being… well, Hermione, dragged Charlotte and the boys to the library to start as soon as possible, not listening or ignoring, most probably the latter, the whining she gained in return.

It was worth it, though.

They didn't know how they'd have gotten through all their homework without her help, especially Harry who was worrying over all the last-minute Quidditch practice Wood was making them do.

Charlotte helped them with Potions and Transfiguration, but she was an absolute failure in History of Magic. Who needed that, anyway? It was really hard to pay attention to the lecture when your teacher was an ancient ghost whose voice could make anyone fall asleep in two seconds short. She had spelled her quill to write down everything Professor Binns said, though it wasn't much of a help because, even with the notes, her brain just seemed to shut down every time she tried to understand it.

So Hermione was officially, at least at Charlie's terms, her new non-paid tutor at the insufferable class. The boys, of course, took total advantage of that fact.

The bushy haired girl was also being very supportive, and lent Harry Quidditch Through the Ages.

Harry and Charlotte sat together for hours discussing it, even though she already knew it by heart, as she explained more of the game, starting a full speech about it that made Harry understand why she was such great friends with Hermione. Her grey-hazel eyes glistened with excitement as she told him that there were seven hundred ways of committing a Quidditch foul and that all of them had happened during a World Cup match in 1473; that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest players, and that most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them; that although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert. Almost word by word from the book.

Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since Harry, Ron and Charlotte – even if said girl had denied and told her countless of this that she was just as helpless as her friend - had saved her from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer for it. The day before Harry's first Quidditch match the four of them were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and she had conjured them up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar. They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the yard. Harry noticed at once that Snape was limping. Charlotte, Harry, Ron, and Hermione moved closer together to block the fire from view; they were sure it wouldn't be allowed. Unfortunately, something about their guilty – and glaring, in Charlie's case - faces caught Snape's eye. He limped over. He hadn't seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell them off anyway.

"What's that you've got there, Potter?"

It was Quidditch Through the Ages. Harry showed him.

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," said Snape. "Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."

The Black girl in the group just stared openmouthed at him, not believing he was using such ridiculous excuse to get them into trouble, just because the greasy bat didn't like them. She propped her hands on her knees, getting ready to stand up from the grass and insult him to her heart's content, however, Hermione, who was sitting at her left side, pull her back, rather forcefully, might I add, and slowly shook her head.

"He just— "

"Be quiet."

"But he can't just—mm…" The boys watched as Hermione quickly brought her hand to the other girl's mouth to shut her up. It would be definitely amusing if Snape wasn't still regarding them coldly, before throwing one last look at Charlotte, a scornful one, turning back on his heel and leaving, Harry's book still clutched in his pale hand.

They waited until his figure had completely disappeared from sight, before exchanging sighs of relief and looking at each other. Hermione let her hand fall away from Charlie's face the same time the latter mumbled something about the man that most definitely wasn't a compliment.

"He's just made that rule up," Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped away. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"

"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," said Ron bitterly.

"Ditto,"

Charlotte tugged at the end of her dark locks in an irritated manner. What was about Snape that made her so snappy and angry with so much as a single glance from him? She could normally be a bad-tempered girl, but she never reacted that badly with anyone else—except, perhaps, Draco.

She didn't dwell in it further, though.

"How many points do you think I would lose if I steal the book back and run for it?" Came her playful words, though she was seriously considering it.

"Don't even think about— "

"Twenty."

"Twenty and a detention." Ron grinned at her, adding to Harry's words. The young Potter, too, was smiling at her attempt to light up the mood.

That was one of the things the boys liked the most on her—no matter the situation, Charlotte would always try to make them feel better. Even if that meant to make a fool of herself or end up in trouble.

Harry knew she would do whatever she put her mind to in a heartbeat, and if she really wanted to run like a mad woman – well, girl – and take his book from their evil teacher's clutches, then she would, no matter how many times someone try to convince her otherwise.

"Harry! Ron! She'll do nothing of the sort!"

"Relax a bit, Hermione, we're just joking."

"Referring to our teachers like that isn't funny, Ronald! It could get us into trouble. Again." She retorted at him, however there wasn't a trace of malice in her words. She was just stating a fact. The muggleborn girl then whirled to the right, her full hair bouncing back and hitting the ginger boy right in the face to what he was fast to complain and sit farther from Hermione. "And you— "

Putting on an innocent face, Charlie stared back at her.

"You really should stop trying to anger him, Charlie. He's our teacher no matter how much you don't like him, and you're supposed to respect him. Perhaps if you tried enough and put some effort in his assignments," the other three rolled their eyes at that, but Hermione didn't notice, or pretended not to. "Then Professor Snape wouldn't be onto you as much—"

"'Mione," Charlotte interrupted her, giving the other the opportunity to catch her breath. "I appreciate the concern, really, I do. But nothing will make him like me. You saw what happen in our first class. He snapped at both Harry and I for no reason—you did see it. I just was defending myself."

She gave a brief pause.

"Besides, I don't think he would be any better with us, even if I hadn't said anything. Oh, whatever… it's not like I care if I'm his favorite student either, because he most definitely isn't my favorite teacher."

Harry mutely nodded in agreement and Ron followed suit. Hermione spared them a glance before sighing.

"Alright… maybe he isn't completely fair—" This time, Charlotte gave her a look as if to say 'Are you kidding me?' and Hermione quickly correct herself. "Okay. He's not fair at all with you,"

"Thank you!"

"However— "

The brown haired girl groaned in annoyance, bringing her knees to her chest and propped her elbows on them, resting her cheeks against her hands. This talk was getting on her nerves and she resisted the urge to snap at Hermione.

"As I was saying," the other continued, ignoring the brooding the girl beside her and the boys who were looking between the two girls like in a tennis match. "I think you should, at best, avoid any conflicts with him—if he says something, just ignore it and don't talk back. I don't want you getting expelled for disrespecting a superior.

Charlotte knew Professor Dumbledore would never expel anyone for that—the man believed in solving things peaceful and rationally. The most he would do was owl Remus – or Andromeda, in the worst scenario – and take away a few points or give her a detention. Expelling was too extreme.

Nonetheless, Hermione was right about one thing. She really had to stop her quarrels with Snape—as amusing as it was to make him angry, it was getting truly exhausting. Maybe if she ignored him, as Hermione said, Snape would back off and stop treating her like an unpleasant flobberworm.

So she just nodded at her friend to say she understood. The others started looking at her, surprised that she accepted it that easily, and Hermione studied her suspiciously.

"What? I can behave if I want to, you know." Charlotte gathered her things from the ground, seizing her bag and strapping it around her shoulder while she held two thick, hard-covered books in her left hand. "Might as well start right now, right? Don't we still have a last homework to finish?"

She directed the last question to Hermione, already knowing that the boys never paid too much attention in class, so it would be useless to ask them anything about it.

Hermione stood up in a jump, eyes wide and frantic expression, as she did the same as Charlie, grabbing her things as fast as she could. "I can't believe I forgot about it! Harry! Ron! Come on, we need to go."

The two shared looks before glancing at Charlotte, but the girl merely shrugged and mentioned for them to do as Hermione said.

"'Mione, calm down, the assignment isn't due till next week—"

"Not enough time then—we should have finished it ages ago. What would Professor Flitwick think?" She ranted. "That was your fault, you know? You three should be studying hard like I am, but instead, you are too occupied with anything related to Quidditch to worry about your education."

"You're not studying hard enough if you've forgotten about an assignment, aye' Hermione?"

Ron tried to make light of the situation, although it only served to add more fuel to the fire as the girl turned to him with a death-glare. Obviously, Hermione needed to tone her know-it-all streak down a bit.

The fuming girl stalked to the boys, Harry being smart and quick enough to scurry to Charlotte's side and out of reach, however the Weasley boy, not being so lucky, had his arm clenched by Hermione, and was dragged all the way to the other two that were watching the scene feeling sorry for the ginger.

"Bloody hell, woman! You're gonna tear my arm off!"

"Shush, Ronald."

Then she proceeded to walk to the castle, Ron whining and complaining behind her all the way. Charlotte chuckled to herself. She had such crazy friends—though she would never complain. Everyone had to put up with her craziness as well, so…

She intertwined her arm with Harry's, and he was gentle enough to carry her books for her (It seemed cavalry wasn't dead, yet) before they began walking a few steps behind the other two, all the while observing amusedly the bickering between their friends as they stepped inside the castle.

oOo

The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Charlotte, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat together next to a window. Hermione was checking Ron's Charms homework for him while Charlie did the same to Harry's. Hermione would never let them copy ("How will you learn?"), but by asking her to read it through, they got the right answers anyway.

The sound of scribbling reached her ears as their quills padded across the parchment making her groan low in annoyance in her place, though it went unnoticed with all of the voices speaking at once at the background. Someone to her left was clearly playing Exploding Snap, Charlotte observed, as she listened a card blowing up every now and then.

When she finally reached the last line of her two-feet essay about at least five standard spells and its effects she breathed in relief and began collecting her things and drawing them back to her bag. Charlie closed her ink bottle and rolled her parchment carefully as not to crumple the paper, then she cracked her knuckle to relieve some of the pain.

Just as she was about to stand up, Charlotte turned to her side and saw Harry fidgeting awkwardly in his seat—he looked impatient for some reason and ready to bolt out of the place at any instant.

"…what about the fire-making spell, Hermione?"

"I said I would help you with the essay, not do it for you—alright… Ron, there's no 'u' in incedio, for Godric's sake!"

Charlotte drowned out the two of them, and sent her dark haired friend a worried look, wondering what got him into such a mood all of a sudden.

"Harry? Everything alright?"

Getting up from the chair she was occupying only seconds before, the girl dropped next to him, resting a hand on his shoulder. Ron and Hermione stopped talking the moment Charlotte spoke, and they were also staring at Harry with worry and curiosity on their faces.

"The game is tomorrow and I really want the Quidditch book back—"

"And you want to go ask Snape for it." It was more of a statement than a question.

Harry gave her a sheepish look. "I know he won't give it to me, but if someone came along…"

Charlotte shook her head, chuckling softly to herself, bringing her sketchbook out and opening in a blank page. She leaned on the arm of the couch and tried to think of something to draw—a third-year girl petting a russet owl caught her attention and she started drawing the scene.

The others understood what he was implying, and Ron and Hermione shared a glance almost instantly.

"Better you than me," they said together making the boy sigh in defeat, before turning to his last hope. Noting the sudden silence that took over them, Charlie looked up from her sketchbook, only to see three sets of eyes staring back at her. She slowly put her pencil down.

"What?"

No one gave her a response, but they threw a meaningful look her way.

"Are you serious?" A whine left her lips and she was about to refuse, though one single glance at the kicked puppy expression on her friend's face were enough to make her do a double take. It became obvious to her that it was important to Harry, otherwise he would never ask. Only Merlin knows how nervous he was with his first game ever being only a few hours away—she would be a pile of nerves, no doubt.

Her sketch laid forgotten at the side as she stood up lazily and fixed her uniform—Charlie snapped her book shut and tucked inside her bag with the rest of her stuff. A strand of hair came out of her loose bun and fell in front of her eyes before she softly pushed it away.

"Alright—I'll go with you. Although I warn you beforehand that this won't work. Slimy Snape hates me, remember? Just saying…" She told Harry.

"Charlie! You promised you would stop insulting him!" Hermione chastised her, shaking her head.

The girl smirked at her.

"No, I promised to try and stop fighting with him. But I can't see him here right now, can you? This doesn't count, Hermione." She added before her muggleborn could retort, gaining an annoyed huff in return that Charlotte just shrugged off.

Then she walked to a waiting Harry and grabbed his forearm in her hand and all but dragged him to the portrait. "By the way, Harry, if he doesn't give you back I could always steal it from him."

And they were gone before they could hear the protests coming from Hermione and the amused snickers from Ron.

oOo

"Are you sure you okay, Harry?"

Charlotte regarded him closely— every once in a while he would tighten his hands into fists or run them nervously in his already messy hair, not to mention the fact that he seemed to be chewing the inside of his cheeks. It was getting unnerving actually.

"Yeah—I'm fine." He swallowed but couldn't quite meet her eyes.

"Come on, Harry. We're best friends, right? You can tell me what's wrong."

A noticeable flush appeared on his cheeks as he looked a bit embarrassed. It was in reality both entertaining and adorable at the same time, but the thought vanished from her mind as soon as it came when Charlie heard his confession.

"I'll be playing in front of the whole school tomorrow—what if I do something stupid? And the idea of falling off of my broom isn't very appealing either." The poor boy was panicking and Charlotte kind or agreed with his fearful thinking, though she wouldn't tell him, of course. Last thing she wanted was to be the reason he had a panic attack before his very first game. "I don't know why I even wanted to be on the team, I shouldn't be playing—maybe I could talk to Wood and say this was a big mistake— "

"Hey!" A hard poke on his side shut him up. "You're not giving up right now,"

"I can't do this, Charlie…"

She sighed. "Yes, you can. Look—when we came to Hogwarts you were afraid this was all a big mistake and that you shouldn't be here. You admitted to Ron and I that you thought you would be behind everyone else because you're new to all this 'magic' thing."

"I don't understand what that— "

"You were wrong because you were scared. Even with everything you thought it would happen… look at you now. You're our first-year seeker, Harry. There hasn't been one in centuries! Not Malfoy. Not Ron. Not even me. You! All of us grew up with magic, but you're the one who got the spot."

They had stopped walking by now and she came to stand in front of him.

"Tomorrow you'll play and you will be great at it, trust me. You're talented, Harry." She paused and gave him a bright smile, one he could not help but return. Surprisingly he was feeling better. "Besides, it's okay to be nervous. Everyone gets nervous sometimes—if it makes you feel better, I'll be cheering for you the whole time."

"Thanks, Charlie."

"No problem."

He shook his head, his glasses askew with the move and he brought his hand up to his face to fix it. "No, really—thank you." She didn't answer, but the smile on her face conveyed she was glad for helping him.

With that, they started walking again.

It was only five minutes after that they finally got at Snape's location. They made their way down to the staffroom and knocked. There was no answer. Charlotte knocked again. Nothing. She was getting impatient.

Perhaps Snape had left the book in there? It was worth a try, after all, she did tell Harry she would get his book back one way or another. She pushed the door ajar – even with Harry protesting beside her not to do it - and peered inside — and a horrible scene met their eyes.

Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages.

"Blasted thing," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?" Charlotte's eyes were fixed in the scene before her—her mouth fall open with shock. Three heads? Godric… Snape was trying to pass through that giant, vicious dog. Did he have a death wish?

The two kids held in a breath, fearing to do some noise to alert the adults of their presence, and carefully took a step back, exiting the place. Harry tried to shut the door quietly, but —

"POTTER! BLACK!"

"Oops. Busted."

The comment was not appreciated by the other occupants in the room as she let out a nervous chuckle. Harry was trembling beside her, and this time Charlie knew it had nothing to do with the Quidditch game—more to the fact that Snape was downright glaring at them with surprise and hatred. The first because he obviously was caught doing something he shouldn't.

Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Charlotte stood still as stone and Harry gulped.

"I just wondered if I could have my book back."

"GET OUT! OUT!"

"We just wanted— "

Harry all but dragged her away not giving her time to finish, before Snape could take any more points from Gryffindor. They could feel their heartbeats racing with adrenaline as they sprinted back upstairs.

The moment they reached the Gryffindor common room, Charlie managed to quickly say 'Pig Snout' to the Fat Lady, and the two rushed inside when the portrait opened.

"Did you get it?" Ron asked as soon as Charlotte and Harry joined them. "What's the matter?"

In a low whisper, Harry told them what he'd seen. Charlie dropped down on the couch beside Hermione and Harry followed suit, sitting on the chair by the fireplace.

"You know what this means?" he finished breathlessly. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Halloween! That's where he was going when we saw him — he's after whatever it's guarding! And I'd bet my broomstick he let that troll in, to make a diversion!" Hermione's eyes were wide.

"Or he told it could be fun to make some innocent students troll food—wouldn't put past him…"

Charlotte muttered.

"No — he wouldn't," she said. "I know he's not very nice, but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe."

"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something," snapped Ron.

"Hate to say it, but… I kind of agree with Hermione on this."

Three heads turned to her. Two in shock and the other in appreciation.

"What? Are you bloody mad, Charlie?"

"I'm just saying… I don't like Snape, that's true. And he's a biased, greasy snake—that's true too—"

"The point…" Hermione looked at her like she was mental.

"Right. The point is… even if Snape is my least favorite person right now, I know for a fact that he wouldn't betray Dumbledore. Though it looked a bit suspicious, I admit. Perhaps Professor Dumbledore asked him to do it?" I was meant to be a statement, but came out as a question no one replied.

"Exactly." Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Well—I'm with Harry. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. But what's he after? What's that dog guarding?"

oOo

The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.

"You've got to eat some breakfast."

"I don't want anything."

"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.

"I'm not hungry."

Harry looked terrible. In an hour's time he'd be walking onto the field and it seemed nerves were getting the best of him—he actually looked ready to throw up. Charlotte observed him in silence. He didn't notice. His plate was clean and she was beginning to feel bad about him. He really didn't like the spotlight, did he?

"Harry, you need your strength," said Seamus Finnigan. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team."

"Thanks, Seamus," said Harry, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his sausages.

"Nice going, Finnegan," a groan escaped her lips. "Don't listen to him, Harry. Toast?"

She waved a toast with blueberry jam on his face. He just shook his head.

"Come on, Harry. You have to eat something."

"I'm not hungry…" He propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his hand, a look of pure misery on his face.

Having enough, she set the toast on his place and slammed her hands on the table, catching his attention. Although he wasn't the only one. A few people around the Gryffindor table – and even some Hufflepuffs – jumped in their seats at the loud noise.

A few rows down, Fred and George had all but stopped talking to Lee and Wood, all of them watching at her like she was a madwoman.

"Fair Lady!"

"What are you—"

She lifted her hand to silence them and turned to her black-haired friend. "Harry Potter! I thought we were past this when we talked yesterday. I get that you're nervous but starving yourself won't help anything. What if you feel weak and pass out? You could fall from your broom. You don't want that, do you? So I suggest you stop the sulking and eat something."

She paused, and then a strangely too sweet smile adorned her face.

"Or I could just shove this toast down your throat. Your choice, really."

Charlie raised her hand in slow motion, going for the toast on his plate, as she stared at him ever so mockingly, as if to show him she wasn't kidding.

Not surprisingly at all, the toast disappeared from the plate. Harry was feeling better, to be honest. Though he would never tell her that—Charlie would make fun of him for all eternity. So he ate in silence, trying to ignore the triumphant grin on his friend's face—never mind the smile coming to his own lips.

oOo

Returning to the dormitory all by herself while everyone else was going to the Quidditch pitch wasn't nice at all—why she had to forget her scarf today? Not only that but her sweater wasn't doing a great job in warming her up. She had half mind to go without it, yet when she stepped outside the castle and the cold hit her skin through her clothing, goosebumps on her arms, Charlie knew she would have to go back.

And there's where she was right now, just in front the Fat Lady's portrait. She hastily told her the password and entered the common room. Apparently, she wasn't the only one who would be late for the game. A group of four boys were hanging around talking to each other. Since there wasn't anyone else in the place, she could clearly hear what they were saying, though she paid them no mind—that is, until one of them, a boy with brown hair, blue eyes and freckles, informed them he was going to the owlery to retrieve some package and it couldn't wait until the end of the game.

It was then that she recalled she had her own package to get. Remus would have sent it by now, she reckoned. Maurice hadn't appeared at breakfast—one thing she learned about her owl, was that sometimes he could be really lazy. Like really lazy. Nonetheless, she had no time to get warm clothes and go to the owlery.

Hmm…

"Hey!"

Four heads snapped in her direction as she walked closer to them. Charlotte noticed how they tensed slightly as they recognized her—she mentally rolled her eyes. They still thought she was a devil's spawn. Merlin.

"You're going to the owlery, right?" She asked the brown-haired boy even knowing the answer.

"Y-yeah."

Well. From what she could see, he was the shy of the group.

"What is it to you?" Another questioned, straightening himself trying to scare her off.

And cue to another eye roll.

Charlotte ignored them and fixed her attention on the shy boy that was cowering away. They were acting as if she had Dragon Pox.

"I already should be at the game, but I have to get something in my dorm—I have a package on the owlery, too. Could you get it for me? I don't think I'll have time to do it myself."

"Ah, of co— "

"No, he won't!" The same boy from before protested, his hazel eyes narrowed at her. "Who do you think—"

"I'll pay you two galleons."

And like that, he shut up. Charlotte wished she had done it since the beginning. He was starting to get on her nerves. The brunet boy had his eyes wide open—the others were staring at her as if to say 'Are you kidding me?' and she sighed before fumbling in her bag strapped to her shoulder.

In less than a minute, two big, golden coins were resting on her hand as she offered to the boys. "Here."

She set the galleons on his hand and stepped back.

"So… Can you get it for me?" She hoped he would agree, otherwise she would have lost two galleons for nothing. Not that she needed it anyways, but…

"Sure."

The boy finally smiled at her, a sincere one, and almost hesitantly extended his empty hand. "Mason Bryant."

"Charlotte Black."

oOo

She run downstairs in a haste. The game was about to start at any minute and she wouldn't want to be late for her best friend's first game. Charlotte was wearing a dark red jacket and the Gryffindor scarf was wrapped around her neck locking the back of her hair to her shoulders because she decided to wear it loose for the meantime.

The cold air didn't bother her anymore with the layers of clothing she was using as she hurried across Hogwarts to the Quidditch pitch, where she was to meet Mason. She certainly hoped he would be there already.

Her legs were aching, though Charlotte did not stop running even if her body was telling her to. From where she was, she could listen to the yells and cheers coming from the field—everyone was probably already there while she fighting to get in there in time.

When Charlotte was ready to drop to the ground and take a breath, Mason entered in her line sight, waving at her. She breathed in relief, walking slightly slower towards him—and his friends, she noticed, that were just behind the boy.

The three boys – that she learned were called Luke, Henry and William – were silent the whole time, only nodding at her in acknowledgement, but other than that, nothing. Not that she cared.

"Hi." She offered Mason with a smile that he returned.

"Hey—ah…here."

A wrapped bundle with the size of a big book was gently pushed in her arms. There was a note attached to it and she quickly read it.

I would ask you why, but I have a hunch already. Hope he likes it.

Ps.: Thank you, darling.

Charlotte beamed. She knew he would connect the dots—that's Remus for you.

A feeling of happiness and relief washed over her as she read the last line. Charlie was glad she did right in asking him to search the box. It was time her godfather had some sort of closure and move on.

"Thanks, Mason." She clutched the package to her chest, then shoved it carefully inside her backpack. It would be weird to go to a game with it, however she didn't want anyone seeing the package—Hermione and Ron would, for sure, start asking questions, and she wanted to keep it a secret for Harry until later.

"That's alright." He waved it off, going a bit pink around the ears. "See you around, Charlotte."

She held her hand up for him to shake it and he didn't take too long to do it. "Just call me Charlie." Throwing the bag strap over her shoulder, she grinned one last time at him and turned around—she was about to search for Hermione and the boys when a voice caught her attention.

"You're not so bad, Black."

Charlotte faced him and had to stop for a moment to see who spoke. After a few seconds, she finally recognized him Luke. He had tanned complexion, what was strange for someone from London. Although, she realized, he didn't have British accent. His hair was a messy strawberry blond and he had hazelnut eyes.

He seemed to be nice—different to Henry, the blondie that was rude with her back at the common room. Nevertheless, the Luke spent this whole time quiet so he could analyze her and come to his own conclusion about her. Well—she didn't like to be studied like a curious experiment, but it was way better than having him glowering at her.

She let out a chuckled and wiggled her fingers at them as a goodbye, but gave him no response other than a 'See ya at the game'. Then she fixed her scarf on her neck and left.

…

Thankfully, she got there a few minutes before the game started—even though she had no idea how. By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.

Ron and Hermione had joined Neville, Seamus, and Dean the West Ham fan up in the top row. As a surprise for Harry, they had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Scabbers had ruined. It said Potter for President, and Dean, who was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor lion underneath. Then Hermione had performed a tricky little charm so that the paint flashed different colors.

"There you are, Charlie." Hermione patted the empty space on her right side.

"Where have you been?"

Ron asked her the moment she sat down—Hermione offered her a bottle of water, and Charlie eagerly snatched it from her friend and gulped down as if she hadn't drunk in months.

"…and why are you looking so exhausted?"

"Thanks 'Mione," Charlotte smiled at the girl in gratitude. "Came running all the way. I forgot I had something—long story."

Hugging the jacket close to her body, Charlie turned around from them and focused ahead, not wanting to give more anything away or Hermione would start questioning. To her luck, they didn't say a word, though they were giving her weird looks.

oOo

Meanwhile, in the locker room, Harry and the rest of the team were changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes (Slytherin would be playing in green).

Wood cleared his throat for silence.

"Okay, men," he said.

"And women," said Chaser Angelina Johnson. "And women," Wood agreed. "This is it." "The big one," said Fred Weasley.

"The one we've all been waiting for," said George.

"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred told Harry, "we were on the team last year."

"Shut up, you two," said Wood. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years. We're going to win. I know it."

He glared at them all as if to say, "Or else."

"Right. It's time. Good luck, all of you."

Harry followed Fred and George out of the locker room and, hoping his knees weren't going to give way, walked onto the field to loud cheers.

Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand.

"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," she said, once they were all gathered around her. Harry noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, a fifth year. Harry thought Flint looked as if he had some troll blood in him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the fluttering banner high above, flashing Potter for President over the crowd. His heart skipped. He felt braver.

From amidst the scarlet crowd of cheering students, Harry spotted his three friends waving and beaming at his direction—Ron and Charlotte were almost hanging from the edge of the stands trying to get a better look at him while Hermione was behind them, trying to get them to sit back down by pulling on their clothing.

Obviously, she wasn't having too much success.

It was amusing to watch and it brought a grin to his mouth—his nerves dissipating a bit. Madam Hooch's voice echoed through the field and snapped him out of his reverie.

It was game time.

oOo

The waiting lasted about five minutes before both of the Quidditch teams - Gryffindor and Slytherin – exited the locker room, emerging from the tunnel and going straight to the middle of the pitch.

"It's about to start!"

The redheaded Weasley elbowed her, bouncing on his seat enthusiastically. Charlotte grunted when his elbow made contact with her ribs, sending a spark of pain across her body. "Ouch, Ron!"

She shoved him back, although she didn't put any strength in it, and scowled at him, "I already noticed the game it's about to start." Then she searched in the midst of the players for one in particular. It was somewhat difficult—the other players were older and way taller than him, but somehow she managed to sight him behind Wood.

As if in synchrony, both her and Ron got out of their seats as if just caught on fire, and ran to the edge of the stands, propping themselves on the railing, yelling Harry's name at the top of their lungs over the hundreds of voices from the other Gryffindors.

"Go, Harry!"

"Stop doing that—you'll end up falling. Charlie! Ron!"

There was a pull at the back of their clothes, Hermione tried to drag them back to their seats, though it was in vain. In the end she just gave up, rolled her eyes and joined them, standing between Charlotte and Neville.

The crowd quietened for a split second, as soon as Madam Hooch's voice thundered across the grounds.

"Mount your brooms, please."

They watched as Harry clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand. Suddenly, Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.

Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor — what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too —"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall. Charlotte would have laughed if she wasn't so focused at the game—especially a blurry figure flying way above them.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve — back to Johnson and — no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes — Flint flying like an eagle up there — he's going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle — that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and — OUCH — that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger — Quaffle taken by the Slytherins — that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger — sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which — nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes — she's really flying — dodges a speeding Bludger — the goal posts are ahead — come on, now, Angelina — Keeper Bletchley dives — misses — GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins.

"Yeah!"

Ron and Charlotte high-fived each other.

"Budge up there, move along."

"Hagrid!"

Charlotte and Hermione squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to join them.

"Bin watchin' from me hut," said Hagrid, patting a large pair of binoculars around his neck, "But it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"

Charlie shook her head.

"Nope," said Ron. "Harry hasn't had much to do yet."

"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'," said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry.

oOo

Way up above them, Harry was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch. This was part of his and Wood's game plan.

"Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch," Wood had told him. "We don't want you attacked before you have to be." The last part wasn't really comforting to the poor boy.

When Angelina had scored, Harry had done a couple of loopthe-loops to let off his feelings. Now he was back to staring around for the Snitch. Once he caught sight of a flash of gold, but it was just a reflection from one of the Weasleys' wristwatches, and once a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannonball than anything, but Harry dodged it and Fred Weasley came chasing after it.

"All right there, Harry?" he had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger furiously toward Marcus Flint.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the — wait a moment — was that the Snitch?"

A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear.

Harry saw it. In a great rush of excitement, he dived downward after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch — all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch.

Harry was faster than Higgs — he could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead — he put on an extra spurt of speed —

oOo

WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below — Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry's broom spun off course, Harry holding on for dear life.

"Harry!"

"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors.

Charlotte's fingers were clutching the railing tightly, anger building up within her. She knew that Marcus Flint was a prat—his family was proof enough. But to deliberately attack her friends like that… on his first game, nonetheless. She would make sure he paid for it later.

Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goal posts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.

Down in the stands, Dean Thomas was yelling, "Send him off, ref! Red card!"

"What are you talking about, Dean?" said Ron.

"Red card!" said Dean furiously. "In soccer you get shown the red card and you're out of the game!"

"But this isn't soccer, Dean," Charlotte reminded him, sending him a funny look. Inwardly, though, she agreed with him.

Hagrid, however, was on Dean's side.

"They oughta change the rules. Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air."

Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides. "So — after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating —" "Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul —"

"Jordan, I'm warning you —"

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."

oOo

It was as Harry dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past his head, that it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He'd never felt anything like that.

It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goal posts — he had half a mind to ask Wood to call time-out — and then he realized that his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn't turn it. He couldn't direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.

Lee was still commentating.

"Slytherin in possession — Flint with the Quaffle — passes Spinnet — passes Bell — hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose — only joking, Professor — Slytherins score — oh no . . ."

The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that Harry's broom was behaving strangely It was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.

oOo

It all happened unexpectedly. One second Harry was still searching for the Snitch, and the other his broom was swerving from side to side. It didn't look like Harry had an idea of what was going on either.

"What…" Charlotte couldn't move her eyes from the sight.

"Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Hagrid mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. "If I didn' know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom . . . but he can't have..."

Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands.

His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.

"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" Seamus whispered.

"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking. "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic — no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand."

"Unless—" A gasp left her lips as she exchanged a glance with Hermine. It seemed they thought the same thing.

At these words, Hermione seized Hagrid's binoculars, but instead of looking up at Harry, she started looking frantically at the crowd.

"What are you doing?" moaned Ron, gray-faced.

"I knew it," Hermione gasped, "Snape — look."

Charlotte seized the binoculars and aimed at the place her bushy haired friend was pointing, "Is that—the slippery bastard!". Ron grabbed the binoculars. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering nonstop under his breath.

"He's doing something — jinxing the broom," said Hermione.

"What should we do?"

"Leave it to me."

Before they could say another word, Hermione had disappeared. Charlotte retrieved the binoculars from Ron and turned it back on Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard; it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good — every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell. Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron muttered desperately.

Returning the focus to the stand opposite to them, Charlotte watched with attention as Snape continued to mumble under his breath—the other teachers were oblivious to it all. All of a sudden, someone bumped into her and she broke her stare to look behind her, but only saw a boy running to the other side of the stands.

When she set the binoculars in front of her eyes once more, she had a different sight—something she hadn't realized before. Her DADA teacher- Professor Quirrell- was sitting a row behind Snape and, like the latter, he was too whispering something under his breath. Charlotte frowned.

"What is he doing?"

She spoke quietly. No one heard her.

Just as she was about to turn to Ron, Hermione entered her vision and kept quiet. Her friend was fighting her way across to the stand where Snape stood, and was now racing along the row behind him; she didn't stop as she knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front.

As she reached Snape, Charlotte almost lost her from sight when she crouched down, and just a few seconds after, blue flames appeared on the hem of Snape's robes.

It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realize that he was on fire.

It was enough. Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back on to his broom.

"Neville, you can look!" Ron said. Neville had been sobbing into Hagrid's jacket for the last five minutes.

"Nice job, 'Mione." Charlotte told her the moment she came back and started watching the game alongside her.

Harry was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick — he hit the field on all fours — coughed — and something gold fell into his hand.

"Look! He got it—we won!"

Bumping her shoulders with Hermione, Charlie jumped up and down, clapping her hands cheerfully.

"I've got the Snitch!" Harry shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion. Somewhere to her left, Dean and Seamus began screeching animatedly. As if in chain reaction, the whole school -minus the Slytherins- followed suit and exploded with screams as the students stood up, celebrating Gryffindor's victory.

At the ground, the Slytherin Quidditch captain was trying for a rematch.

"He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it," Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference — Harry hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results — Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty. Harry heard none of this, though. He was being made a cup of strong tea back in Hagrid's hut, with Charlotte, Ron and Hermione.

"It was Snape," Ron was explaining, "The three of us saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."

Charlie cleared her throat making the others turn to her questioningly. "Actually, he wasn't the only one…"

Hermione furrowed her brows.

"What do you mean?"

"Well…I was watching Snape but I noticed someone behind him—it was professor Quirrell." She said much to their confusion and surprise. "I don't know what to think, though I'm pretty sure I saw him doing the same thing Snape did. Don't you think that's odd?"

"Professor Quirrell?" Hagrid frowned, seeming deep in thought.

Harry and Hermione were still staring at her. They didn't know what to make of it either. However, Ron made his thoughts pretty clear.

"Maybe he was trying a counter course or something—or he was just talking to himself. I think he is a bit out of his mind, if you ask me." There was no denying that was true. Quirrell sometimes acted, indeed, like a crazy person. "Besides—Who, in all Hogwarts, would want to hurt Harry? Snape. He hates Harry, that's obvious."

To be honest, Malfoy would definitely want to see Harry hurt, but the dimwit could barely do a simple levitation charm properly—yeah, she noticed her fuming cousin at their first Charms class. While he was glaring at hers and Hermione's floating feather with jealous eyes, his kept still on his table, not moving even an inch.

"Rubbish," said Hagrid, who hadn't heard a word of what had gone on next to him in the stands. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"

Harry, Ron, Charlotte and Hermione looked at one another, wondering what to tell him. Harry decided on the truth.

"We found out something about him," he told Hagrid pointing to himself and Charlie. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding." Hagrid dropped the teapot.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" he said.

"Fluffy?"

"You named that thing Fluffy?" With eyes wide open in shock, Charlie asked the hairy man disbelievingly.

"Yeah — he's mine — bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year — I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the —" "Yes?" said Harry eagerly.

"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape's trying to steal it."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid again. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"Like he wouldn't be capable of worse…"

Charlotte murmured almost inaudibly, so nobody took notice.

"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" cried Hermione.

The afternoon's events certainly seemed to have changed her mind about Snape.

"What about Quirrell?"

Hermione continued, ignoring her completely. "I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!"

"And Quirrell!" No one answered. The girl was getting frustrated with everyone ignoring her and pretending the whole thing with their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher wasn't the least a bit suspicious. Why was she the only one concerned about this?

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all three of yeh — yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel —"

"Aha!" said Harry, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

"Who's that?" She questioned.

Hagrid looked furious with himself.

oOo

They returned to the castle before it got too dark, after trying to get some answers out of Hagrid—all failed attempts. The huge man was lenient in keeping his mouth shut, and send them off the moment he realized the four wouldn't stop till they knew something.

When they finally set their feet within the castle, the four walked to the common room to wait for Harry to freshen up, then they skipped together to the great hall in time for dinner. The place was already crowded, most of the students still wore scarlet and gold colors, showing their support to the Quidditch team.

The second they pushed the big oak doors and stepped into the room, the place exploded in cheers, though there was no other table clapping as harder as the own Gryffindor table. Amidst them, it was hard not to notice Wood and the twins. Fred and George because of their hair and Oliver—the fifth-year looked ready to burst into tears.

It was true that it has been a long time since the Gryffindors won a game—most likely due to the fact the Slytherins liked to play dirty, and tried to knock down the players off their brooms and count them out of the game before they even got a chance to fight back.

Speaking of, the Slytherin bunch didn't seem too happy, Charlotte thought with delight.

The snake's table was the only one brooding for their lost. Not that everyone else cared—many Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws joined Gryffindor's table, some even patted Wood on his back, congratulating him for the game.

Draco Malfoy and Marcus Flint were, by far, the most unpleased people with the result. In fact, Charlotte was sure she could feel her cousin's glare burning at the back of her head as she happily marched through the great hall, grinning to herself, going straight to where Fred and George stood.

Harry was also grinning, but if one looked closely enough they would see the slight flush on his cheeks as he ran his fingers through his disheveled dark hair. He obviously still wasn't used to the attention. Ron, however, soaked in it, sauntering in front of them with a huge beaming expression—Charlotte knew he always felt a bit left out at home with his other six siblings, yet she couldn't get why he desired to be in the spotlight so much.

She would gladly trade places with him, anytime.

"Potter!"

"Well done, Harry!"

"That's our seeker!"

"Potter, C'mere."

An agitated Oliver Wood waved them over, throwing his arm around Harry's shoulders the moment he came within his range.

"Oy, Fair Lady!"

George patted the spot next to him

Once all the ruckus dissipated, everyone settled down and began scarfing down their foods. Dinnertime passed quickly between many bites of chomp lamb and pumpkin juice—Charlie tumbled her fingertips on the table, while her other hand held her fork, hitting it softly on her plate, creating a tinkling sound.

She was impatiently waiting for dessert time. It was only a matter of time before the mountain of sweets and mouth-watering little pies magically – no pun intended – appeared at the table.

"Something wrong?"

The voice made her snap her head to the side, meeting George's curious eyes. Apparently, her drumming on the plate while staring unblinkingly at an undefined spot was sort of unnerving. Her fingers stilled and recoiled almost instantly to her lap. She was acting like a freaking weirdo.

Charlie shook her head, sending him a sincere smile.

"Do you have it already?" Hermione whispered in her ear. Charlotte only told her she asked Remus for something and that it was a surprise present. Luckily, the girl was not one to babble around – like Lavender and Parvati, for example-, and swore she wouldn't mention anything to Harry. Of course Hermione would connect the dots.

"Hmm-mm," she gave the muggleborn witch an affirmative nod. "It's in our dorm."

To be honest, she was kind of uneasy in leaving the parcel at the dormitory. It was no news that Charlotte didn't trust Lavender one bit, to don't try and take a peek at it. That's why she hid it in a special chest with a locking spell, so only she would be able to open—her ninth's birthday present from Andy.

There was once day, Charlie just came back to her dormitory after lunch and she had a peculiar sight the moment she limped through the door, that had her blood boiling inside her.

The loud blond girl was shamelessly rummaging through her things, and had the decency to look like a deer caught in the headlights when she heard Charlie clearing her throat, standing behind her with an unamused expression. Lavender's head hit the wooden bed when she stood with a jump from where she was crouched under her bed, and spluttered nervously.

Although, being her snotty, arrogant self, it merely took a few seconds for the witch to pretended as if she did nothing wrong and glower at Charlotte, with the awful excuse that she was just looking for a hairbrush—even though her hair looked fine and her own hairbrush was clearly visible only a few steps away on her nightstand, so… yeah.

Things were already tense between them since their first night at Hogwarts, and that 'little incident' did nothing more than add more fuel to the fire. It was like an unspoken thing—they would see each other at the hallways, classes, Great Hall, common room and dorm. Lavender glared. Charlotte pretended she didn't exist.

It worked for her.

No matter that nearly everyone at school had laid off the whole Black thing. Lavender Brown would always, for some unknown reason, hate her and treat her like a dangerous walking disease.

Whatever.

"Wotay awkin bau?" Ron managed across from them through a mouthful of smashed potatoes, choking a bit and making a few pieces fly across the table, gaining a disgusted 'Gross' from Hermione. The redhead tried to swallow, but ended up coughing again, before gulping down some glass of water that Harry pushed in front of him.

"What—Ron!"

"I think he meant 'what are you talking about.'"

Hermione looked flabbergasted. "How can you even understand that?"

Charlotte shrugged.

"With time, you get used to it." Neither Harry or Hermione had anything to say about that, though Fred and George nodded their heads in agreement, the former even bringing his own juice glass up in a 'cheers' motion. "And to answer your question, dear Ronniekins," There was a few snickers coming from the twins and Lee. "None of your business."

She finished, sending him a wink and a smirk.

"Ouch."

"So harsh, Fair Lady."

Before any of them could utter another word, a sweet aroma filled their nostrils and made their mouths water in anticipation. Bowls with whipped cream, mini cakes of all flavors, fruits and every high-sugared food one could imagine, were served all along the five tables in the great hall.

Everyone began digging in once more, a few were already too full from the dinner, but couldn't resist the sweet temptation, and Charlotte watched as her friends pilled food in their plates around her, inwardly jumping up and down in anxiousness, and doing a mental countdown.

…Two. One.

There was a few gasps from the Gryffindor table, mainly coming from the bushy haired girl beside her. A huge – and she meant huge- cake materialized out of nowhere and right in front of Harry, who had his eyes almost bulging out of its sockets as he gaped at it.

It was a perfect replica of the Quidditch pitch with small cheering folks on the stands – Charlotte wondered how Trix did—oh, Lookie there! She could see her mini self standing with the miniature of Ron and Hermione -, the Gryffindor Quidditch team were hovering a few feet above the ground, while a single boy flew higher than everyone else with a fluttering golden ball near him. Obviously it was Harry, they noticed. It was hard not to when they saw the familiar round glasses and the lighting scar on his face.

A smile came to Charlie's lips as she observed every dumbfounded faces near her. All of a sudden, the little Harry Potter had the snitch clutched in his right hand and immediately, fireworks exploded above their heads in many colors, forming the words 'Congratulations to our greatest seeker ever! Go, Harry!'.

Said boy blushed deep red as a thunder of applause and whistles sounded all over the room, though Harry had a grin on his face—he was embarrassed from all the attention, but wasn't exactly uncomfortable about it, either.

At the staff table, Charlotte was pleasantly surprised to see that every teacher – except for Snape, what a surprise – were clapping just as enthusiastically, even though Professor McGonagall had on her strict gaze fixed on her figure.

Charlie sent her a wave, the woman throwing another look her way as if saying she knew she was the responsible for the commotion. And even though she acted like she was mad, Professor McGonagall was a bit amused, if the slight tilt of her lips was anything to go by. The transfiguration teacher would deny everything if asked, naturally.

Alongside the headmistress, was the headmaster himself. His twinkling blue eyes met hers, and he did nothing to conceal the fact that he was very much enjoying the scene. She knew she was in no trouble –yet, at least. Professor Dumbledore seemed to have a soft spot for her, and McGonagall too, despite all the stern glances and lectures she gave the girl.

"Did you do this?"

Oliver, who had watched the silent interaction between the young Black and the two elders, probed, not knowing whether to feel amused or stunned.

That made mostly everyone stare at her. Harry switched his gaze from the moving two tier cake to her and waited for her reply. Ron, Hermione, Neville, Oliver and Angelina did the same as the Weasley twins were too occupied gushing over how 'wicked' the cake was.

"The fireworks are mine. Moony taught me how to do it—don't tell your mother!" She spoke mostly to Ron. "She would strangle him. Hmm…well, about it, I asked a little friend of mine to do it."

She pointed at the Quidditch field imitation, shrugging her shoulders.

"Little friend?" The young Weasley pried again, wanting to know more.

"It's a secret."

The girl could literally feel the hundreds of stares burning at her back, yet she didn't turn around once. Charlotte choose to ignore them and focused on Harry, only to discover he was already staring at her.

'Thank you' he mouthed.

Beaming in response, she grabbed a shiny silver knife and offered it to young wizard.

"The first slice is yours, Mr. seeker."

The boy silently took it from her, mumbling another quick thankful comment, Ron basically pleading him to be done with it as Charlie thought drool would fall off his chin at any moment. If it was up to him, the witch knew, he would be already with a mouthful of cake, devouring it with bare hands. Who needed a fork, anyways?

The piece of the three layered cake dropped on the black haired boy's plate—Trix did an amazing job at baking it. The inside looked much more appealing. And delicious.

The rest followed suit, nearly tacking each other – Fred and George- to get a slice of it, even though there was more than enough for everyone. Charlotte munched slowly, savoring the taste of caramel, lemon and chocolate. She never thought the three flavors could taste so good together.

"Wait—that's why you made us take you to the kitchen, right?"

Mockingly, she whirled around to face Fred and said, "Duh" as if the most obvious thing in the world.

"Never thought it would take this long for you to realize. I'm disappointed, really." He faked offence and George, who was quiet – surprisingly – since he started eating again, copied his brother. As usual, their friends ignored both of them while Charlie rolled her eyes at their childish antics.

"You're so mean to us—"

"And we have done nothing, Fair Lady!" Fred whined dramatically and George throwing his arm over her shoulder and dragging her closer to his side, making her scowl at him.

"I spent too much time around you—I think that's enough."

"Not true—"

"Preposterous!"

"Ridiculous!"

"Whatever," she waved them off. "Although, I assumed you would be more than happy that you two had some influence over me. Huh…guess I was wrong then."

Their faces were comically bemused.

When everyone was fed, all of the dishware vanished into thin air, leaving the five tables clean as they were before dinner, and the mouth-watering smell of food was gone.

The headmaster's voice boomed across the walls of the hall, announcing it was time for them to go to their respective common rooms. A low chatter filled the place as the students stood up from their seats and lined up to leave the Great Hall—with the excitement from the game having worn off, mostly everybody was wishing for a good night of sleep.

Except for one person. For now, at least.

There was still something she had to do before she could finally flop down on her bed for a well-deserved rest.

oOo

"See you at breakfast!"

"Night."

A group of second-years pushed past her and sprinted upstairs as she strode into the warm room, Harry, Ron and Hermione just behind her. The redhead yawned loudly, making someone snicker beside Charlotte, before the Weasley glowered at his older brothers when they ruffled his flaming red mane playfully.

Ron kept on rumbling about it, even after they bid the twins goodnight and strolled to their bedroom. Then, the others were already gone and only the quartet remained there.

All of a sudden, Charlie felt a push on her side, and met Hermione's brown eyes. The girl was sending a subtle, meaningful glance at her, and tilted her head towards the stairs leading to their dorm. The dark haired witch nodded.

Rushing upstairs in a hurry before anyone could say anything, leaving two puzzled boys and a grinning girl behind.

The door slammed open, startling both Lavender and Parvati who were engrossed in a gossip session – as usual -, and all but raced to her side of the dorm, dropping down next to her bed just in front of her massive trunk, not oblivious to the looks the blond and the Indian girls were tossing at her kneeled figure, but too busy to even care.

For Merlin's sake—Remus was right.

Charlie grunted in frustration and annoyance as she searched through her things. Why couldn't she have packed like a normal person? And above all, like a girl? No…she had to, literally, throw everything carelessly inside the trunk. A trunk with an Extension Charm on it.

Great.

She would never find it amidst that mess. Maybe it was time for her to learn to be a little bit organized—oh, wait!

Her fingers grazed a smooth, wooden surface and she found a handle at the side, pulling it out, grinning in content. Never mind the fact that her roommates had stopped talking and still stared at her weirdly.

"Found it!"

Knowing that Hermione wouldn't keep the boys downstairs for much longer, Charlotte was quick to grab the chest and balance it with both hands, before holding her thumb to the lock, making sure her body was covering it from the prying eyes in the room—her back to them.

A slight 'click' reached her ears, then the lock glowed a light blue color, the lid falling open afterwards. It had recognized her signature magic. One of the best presents ever.

Wasting no more time, the girl got the wrapped package out, snapped the chest closed, the padlock sealing it once more, and shoved it inside her trunk and also shut it, propping herself on her left hand and lifting herself off the floor. She brushed the dirt from her hand at the front of her jeans and ran out the door without looking back.

"…at the library by the morning. Now the game is over, there's no excuse."

Of course.

Charlotte shook her head with a chuckle. She wasn't at all surprised that, out of everything she could talk to distract the boys with, Hermione would choose something like homework.

'Such a nerd.' She thought fondly with a smile.

Time to put Ron and Harry out of their misery.

"We just want to sleep, Hermione," She heard Ron's voice. The poor boy seemed almost pleading. "Why can't we talk about this tomorrow?"

"It would better to arrange everything early—Charlie!"

The three finally noticed her.

The muggleborn witch squealed with something akin to relief. She must have been running out of ideas to keep them from leaving.

"I think that's enough torture, 'Mione."

Charlotte was watching the three from the foot of the stairs with an entertained grin, her words teasing.

Her friends were so different form each other. It was surreal how it happened.

Ron was the funny, laidback boy. Hermione, ever the smart and responsible one. Harry was sweet and a bit shy, but had a fierce streak within him too, sometimes. Especially whenever Malfoy was involved.

Then there was her.

Charlotte Black was, by no means, an arrogant and mean girl, despite what everyone said about her heritage. There was no denying that she could be somewhat 'bipolar' at times. She could be totally relaxed on moment, and the other she was a ticking bomb ready to explode.

Though that only occurred when someone did or said something to insult her family—something that happened frequently, given her last name.

It was a wonder, how she got along so well with Ron, even if they butted heads with each other every once in a while. Both of them were hot-tempered, Charlie more so than Ron, despite the fact that the boy had inherited the Weasley temper.

That's why Fred and George were the first ones from the Weasley clan that she befriended. The two redheads were so easygoing and entertaining to be around that was nearly impossible to be truly mad at them – except, of course, if your name was Molly Weasley -, no when they could put a smile on her face as easily as they could annoy her to no end with their antics.

Ronald was a different story altogether. He was a slight difficult child at the beginning, but once their prudish behavior, the two had stuck like glue.

So it came as a surprise that Charlotte, Ron, Hermione and Harry became such good friends. Charlie expected them to fight every ten minutes. Most of the times, the four shared such unalike views on things. It was astounding—but somehow, it worked.

"Bloody hell—thanks, Charlie." Ron sighed in relief, and though it was not as obvious as the ginger, she noticed Harry doing the same. Hermione rolled her eyes at the boys and huffed in response to her friend's comment.

"I'm just trying to help them," the girl retorted, straightening her posture and crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Those two need to learn how to be more responsible and do things on their own—copying every assignment from ours isn't right."

Now it was Ron's turn to roll his eyes, yet he didn't say a thing.

Patting Hermione's shoulder in a playful manner, Charlotte sent her a smirk, "I know, 'Mione. I know."

And cue to another eye roll.

"Never mind," the bushy-haired witch paused, letting her gaze fall to her friend, whose arm was hidden behind her back. "Well, time for bed. It's late."

And without waiting for an answer, she proceeded to push a complaining Weasley, who was sporting a baffled face that diminished to a tired one as sleepiness took over and he let a yawn escape again, allowing his friend to usher him towards the boys' staircase.

The boy-who-lived was about to follow his best friend, when a hand clasp his wrist and made him halt in his steps. "Wait."

Ron and Hermione finally disappeared from their range of vision. There was a muffled sound of doors closing upstairs and everything went silent once again, leaving the other two to face each other, one in confusion and the other toying with the end of her sleeves, timidly—that was odd, since she was no shy girl.

Still, she had the excuse in her mind as to why she was feeling so awkward.

This was Harry.

Not Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived and all that rubbish. That's not what she meant.

Right in front of her was the boy she had been friends with as children -not that she remembered it, understandably –, Prong's son, the one she wanted to meet ever since she saw the various pictures as a child. And here they were, after all these years, reunited again. Finding Harry after almost ten years later, and befriending him was so astonishing—Charlotte felt like a part of her childhood was restored. It was a good feeling.

So, yeah.

She had a pretty satisfactory reason to be acting so unlike herself while the boy right in front of her blinked sleepily, no doubt waiting for her to say something. After all, Charlie was the one who stopped him from going off to dreamland, tucked in a cocoon of warm and velvety covers—might as well get over it.

'You are Charlotte Black. You don't get all tongue-tied over something like this!'

Replaying the words in her head like a mantra, and unaware that her fingers were clutching the package way to tightly out of nerves, took a deep breath and prayed mentally that she didn't look as panicked as she felt.

"For you," came her feeble attempt, the now slightly crunched package being almost literally forced into his eyesight, as she basically shoved it under Harry's nose, only stopping a few inches from the boy. "Happy late birthday, Harry."

Fighting over the urge to sleep, the young wizard hesitantly moved his gaze from his friend's uncomfortable face and stared at his, apparently, present. Harry seized it from her small hands, noting the tinge of worry in her features, more so than before, and frowned in curiosity, not really understanding why Charlie was behaving so oddly.

As he looked down at the bundle in his hands, his exhaustion was pushed back of his mind, if only for a moment, and he, like any average boy – even if he was far from average -, became a bit eager to see what it was.

Tearing the brown wrapping apart a bit quicker than necessary, Harry found a big book-sized album of a dark blue color with a brown leather strap keeping it closed. Looking with attention, at its base there were some words written on it in a smoky grey color.

To our everlasting bond

May it proceed for the many generations to come

M.

He creased his eyebrows, but nonetheless Harry carefully undid the strap and opened album, only to widen his emerald green eyes in astonishment as he found two familiar faces gazing and happily waving back at him. Faces he dreamt of seeing in person for eleven years.

Lily and James Potter were not the only ones in the picture, though Harry had a hard time looking elsewhere.

His reaction had Charlotte biting her lower lip anxiously. What if he hadn't like it? Maybe it was a mistake and she was only making him feel bad seeing them—

"How—thank you."

She heard the low mutter coming from the black haired boy, and if she wasn't mistaken or too drowsy to see things clearly, Charlie swore she saw a teardrop running down his face. Her heart clenched at the sight.

"I had it for ages…sometimes I would sneak into the attic just to look at it. Moony found me once, well—it's a long story, but he always kept his distance from it," she told him, her voice nothing but a whisper, the fireplace crackling every once in a while in the background. "At first it was kind of hard, you know, stare at it wondering what would have been like if they weren't…"

Harry nodded sadly.

"But with time, that wasn't such a bad thing—the what ifs turned into a good memory. Even if they're not real." Charlotte gave him a weak smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, and then lowered her head, playing with her fingers. Letting out a sigh, she continued, "That's my parents and Moony right here," she looked up and pointed at the three people standing by the left side of Harry's parents. All of them were smiling widely, her father had an arm around her mother's waist and the other was on James' shoulder, while Remus had his hands intertwined at his waistline. He aged so much so much in the last few years. She guessed part because of the werewolf gene and the part because of the things he had seen and been through in the past. "And that's Peter. I actually don't know much about him, only they were friends."

She purposely left out the part where Peter was supposedly murdered by her own father. It wasn't true, after all. Not to her.

The chubby boy was the only one, awkwardly hanging behind the others, hiding between her father and James. Unlike the others, he had a rather uncomfortable face on. Actually, he wore that same face in every single picture she saw.

"These pictures are one of the things in my life that I treasure the most. It's the only thing keeping me from forgetting their faces," she bit the inside of her cheek nervously. "If it was anyone else I wouldn't, but… Take care of it, Harry."

Taking an almost hesitant step back, her fingers twitched ever so slight, itching to keep contact with the smooth surface of the album for a little longer.

The green eyed wizard flipped to the next page carefully, sneaking a peek at her while she was distractedly staring at the floor. His orbs filled with something akin to confusion as he looked between her and the folder in his hands. "If it matters so much to you, then why give it to me, Charlie?"

"Because even if both of us are basically on the same boat, I know I still have Moony as a connection to my parents—you have none. You deserve it, Harry. Besides, you're my best friend," she grinned softly. "I'm glad that I could, at least, let you know something about your family. You would do the same for me."

At that moment, they exchanged a meaningful glance.

Yeah.

He would do the same. In a heartbeat.

"Goodnight, Harry."

His fingers slowly traced the pictures, then flipping to the next page and giving it a brief look before snapping it close. The boy-who-lived swallowed, feeling his eyes moistening, however no tear escaped.

When Harry glanced up, ready to thank her for the present again, he was surprised when arms wrapped around him in a quick hug. Before he could even process or even hug back, she withdrew from him—with one last smile, she left the boy at the common room, watching silently as she went upstairs to her dorm.

"Night, Charlie." He whispered softy. His eyes went to the crackling fire behind him, then he brought the album to his chest and finally went to his own bedroom.

oOo

The wind softly blew into the room, making the curtains move around, letting the moonlight come in. Shadows danced on the walls. Staring at the ceiling, her dark hair spilled across her pillow, Charlotte willed herself to go sleep.

Like usual, her roommates were already fast asleep, even Hermione—in fact, when she got inside the room, she was pretty sure she saw her bushy haired friends with a bit of dribble on the corner of her mouth. She let out a chuckle. It was a funny sight, though she couldn't blame the girl. It was a long day.

As her eyes were finally starting to drop, millions of thoughts invaded her mind, but one stood out from the others.

So many what ifs.

"I'll miss you…"

And so she let her world become black, her dreams filled with people she could only hope to see once more.

oOo