I am very sorry that this chapter took so very long to write... Let me know if you find any mistakes and I will edit it...
Chapter 21
-Charles' Birthday-
"Blow out the candles! And don't forget the wish." Donea said rocking the baby bassinet with her foot. Luthy was fast asleep, unaware of anything save his own inner eyelids.
Taking a deep breath, Charles blew out the eight candles that adorned the top of the chocolate cake and smiled as the smoke curled up into the air to write "Happy Birthday Charles" amid the wispy curls. But his happiness was short lived as he heard gentle weeping from the usually silent bedroom. Donea patted him on the back as she passed by him to close the door.
"Don't you worry about it, love." she comforted, lifting Luthy's bed up into her chubby arms. "Your father and mama both wished you a Happy Birthday." He nodded sadly and then began to pull the candles from the cake. Normally he and his mother would lick the frosting off the bottom of the candles, but he didn't want to since she wasn't there to do it with him.
Tossing the candles into the sink, Charles made his way toward his mother's bedroom door and opened it slowly hoping Donea would be too busy with Luthy to notice. He slipped into the room and shut the door behind him.
The room was dark as the windows were closed and the electric light that would have illuminated the entire room hung dim above the bed. Two figures were in the bed; one of them laying down, a mere bump in the thick covers against the other who sat, leaning against the head of the bed.
"Come here, son." Charles heard his father say. Needing no extra prompting, he hurried to the bed and climbed onto it, being careful not to jostle his sleeping mother.
"Did you like the candles?" Albus Dumbledore asked. Charles nodded despite the lack of light.
"Thank you." He murmured. Everything had changed so quickly; he thought sadly. And it was all his fault. If he had stayed inside of the room and had stayed away from the windows, maybe none of this would have happened. Of course, good things had happened. But the bad seemed to out weigh them.
Learning how is father was... Finally leaving that boring room... His baby brother... He had learned to read under Donea's heavy glare... But then all the good things vanished from his mind and he began to cry as the bad events seemed so much bigger.
Leaving his home... His mama was bedridden... He had been forgotten... Of course the last one was not true, but being only eight years old, Charles could not see that. He felt his father place a warm hand on his head to try and comfort him. But instead of it helping, it helped Charles shift the blame.
"This is your fault." the boy muttered. He knew as soon as the words left his mouth that they were not true, but a flickering fire of anger that had been threatening to consume him over the past several months finally burst into flames and he glared up at his father.
"If you had stayed away from us, this never would have happened."
His father's face was hidden by the darkness of the room, but Charles knew that he was probably shocked and hurt.
A tangible silence hung like moldy curtains about the father and son until a groan from amid the covers forced them to turn their attention away from each other.
Minerva had heard her young son's accusation, but she was partly delirious and easily believed that it was just a fantasy her weak mind had created. Two pairs of hands patted the covered gently about her thin body and two voices so very much alike despite the age difference tried to soothe her. She smiled a small but nonetheless sincere smile.
"My darling boys." she whispered.
Beth ran as fast as her legs could carry her over the hard packed earth. She was breathing heavily as she had been running for two hours already. Finally she dropped to a crouch behind a large bush and panted heavily, trying to catch her breath.
She had not joined Lord Voldemort, despite the fact that she had graduated some time ago. One little boy had not allowed her to sell herself away. And now she was attempting to save that same child.
It was funny, she thought. She didn't even know what the child's real name was and here she was risking her life to deliver a message. Figuring that she had rested long enough, the woman dashed back out into the gathering darkness.