August 1986
Charlie clutched the handle of his broom and plummeted beneath a layer of altocumulus clouds. The drop sent his stomach into his chest and he smiled from the rush. Griffins weren't supposed to be this fast. Especially not a young one crippled by what Charlie suspected was a broken basal phalanx.
Where the hell did it go?
Charlie emerged beneath the clouds and hit turbulence. The broom and his body shook as he surged upward, riding the uneven pockets of air. The wind whipped at his skin until his face went numb and his scarf tangled around his neck. It was hot on the ground, almost twenty-four degrees, but it was much colder at his current elevation. His gloves, sweater, and scarf kept off the cold, and his goggles kept his eyes from shutting against the sting of the wind.
Charlie had first spotted the griffin six days ago, while he was out flying. He had seen its erratic movements and had spent the last week wondering how to capture the cub without hurting it more. His worn copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them only documented how to capture flying creatures with the use of magic. Charlie hadn't expected it to include other methods and he wasn't let down.
Scamander wasn't underage when he did most of his work. He wasn't out here doing this without magic.
Charlie scanned the sky as he tore through the air. He heard a cry and turned fast, sliding down the handle of his broom until his feet came out of the stirrups. He pushed himself back into place, trying not to fall off. The sun was in his eyes now and he didn't see the griffin until it flew under him. It was so close Charlie felt the waves of air displaced by its wings.
At least he didn't have to chase it anymore. The griffin cub attacked him. It dove at his back and pecked his shoulder. Its tail hit Charlie in the face. Its talons ripped through his sweater and drew blood. Charlie winced, but didn't let go of his broom or close his eyes. He accelerated and pulled away from the griffin. It chased him.
I have to do this quick.
Charlie took one hand off his broom and released the net tied across his back. He pulled it into his lap and made sure the handline was secured to the broom handle. The griffin cub caught up to him with its talons outstretched. Charlie threw up his arms to protect his face. The griffin cried loud in his ear; in pain and agitated.
"Easy, easy," Charlie said, more to himself than the griffin. The cub couldn't hear him over the wind and its own shrieks.
The griffin's broken wing made it spin in erratic circles. Charlie held the net tight. He had to get the cub in the net without hurting it more than it already was. He wrapped the emergency release cord around his wrist. He had modified the net so that if he got tangled, or the griffin struggled too hard, he could pull the cord and the net would unravel.
This would be so much easier with magic.
The griffin circled back toward him. Charlie jumped up and stood on the broom. The griffin charged him and Charlie tossed the net over the cub. The net wrapped around the griffin. Charlie pulled the lead line and cinched the net closed.
Yes!
The griffin hated the net. It struggled. The weight of the griffin pulled on the broom and Charlie fell. He caught the handle and pulled himself back into the stirrups, but the broom couldn't take the force of the griffin's weight, not with it struggling. Charlie let the broom fall with the weight of the netted griffin. The cub cried but couldn't struggle as much as they fell at the speed of gravity. Charlie pulled the headline and brought the net into his lap, still plummeting toward the ground. He was gentle as he wrapped his arm around the net and pulled the cub against his chest. With its wings pressed against its sides and its talons beneath its body, the griffin looked small and young. It couldn't have been out of the nest long.
Charlie pulled out of the dive and slowed his broom. The griffin stopped fighting the net, though it still tried to peck his body, its beak protruding between the cords. Charlie maintained a low speed and flew just above the trees. He navigated to the forest outside Ottery St. Catchpole and headed for his camp.
Molly sat on a wooden chair in front of the entrance to his tent.
Charlie groaned. He circled twice, trying to decide what to tell her about the griffin. If she had already looked inside his tent, it didn't matter.
Charlie landed by the fire pit and got off his broom, cradling the entangled griffin against his chest.
He walked past Molly. Neither of them said anything.
Molly followed Charlie into the tent. Inside, three mokes watched them from a large cage, a flightless golden snidget sat perched on a lantern, and a blind knarl slept in a nest made of leaves, dirt, and tree roots.
Charlie knelt down and untied the net. The griffin chirped and pecked at his fingers. Charlie took a dead mouse out of a basket and fed it to the griffin. While the griffin ate, he pet its back and checked its injured right wing. The end of it turned down at a sharp angle. As bad as it was, he was surprised the cub had been able to fly at all.
Charlie used another dead mouse to lure the griffin into a large cage lined with straw and blankets. Once the griffin was inside, he closed the door. He filled a bowl with water from a jug and placed it inside.
Without turning to look at Molly, he said, "I'll release all of them before school starts, I swear. They just need time to heal. I couldn't leave them out there on their own."
"It's alright, Charlie."
The griffin chirped and titled its head sideways. Charlie reached into the cage and stroked its head until he heard what sounded like purring.
"Is that a griffin?"
"Yes."
"What's wrong with it?" Molly asked.
"Broken wing," Charlie said. "I'll have to bandage it and stabilize the broken bone so it can heal."
At least the cub had calmed down and stopped assaulting him.
Molly took out her wand. "Ferula."
Bandages appeared and wrapped around the griffin's wing.
"Thanks," Charlie said.
"It will be a lot easier when you can use magic outside of school," Molly said.
Charlie went back to the basket and took out a handful of dead crickets. He fed them to the mokes.
"Charlie, I came here to talk to you about the train."
"Mum, no. I don't want to talk about the Merlin-forsaken train."
"Watch your language, Charles Weasley," Molly said. "This isn't about what you want. Look at me."
Charlie turned around. The snidget hopped from the lantern, across the table, and walked up Charlie's arm. He scooped up the bird and set it back on the lantern.
"Your father and I have given you time to stay in the woods and grieve, but you can only get so far on your own," Molly said.
"I'm fine, Mum."
Molly looked at the stack of unopened letters covering the end of the table. "No, you're isolating yourself. You haven't spent any time with your siblings and you won't even talk to your friends."
"I just want to be left alone."
"You've been alone for almost two months," Molly said.
"I like being alone. And I said I was fine."
"Charlie, you saw one of your friends die. You're not fine."
Charlie's lip shook. "I didn't see him die, Mum. He was already dead by the time I got to him. I should have kept digging after we pulled Jonathan out, but I stopped. I forgot about Peter, don't you get it? I forgot he was there and he died while I stopped digging."
"It wasn't your fault, Charlie. You did what you could. You saved your cousin's life."
"It is my fault," Charlie said. He wiped his running nose with his arm.
Molly stood, raised her wand, and reached for Charlie's shoulder, where blood mixed with torn wool.
"Episkey," Molly said.
Charlie's shoulder burned as the skin mended. Once the gashes closed, his skin turned cold.
"I'll fix your sweater tonight," Molly said. "Right now, I need to fix your perceptions of guilt and loss."
"I don't need you to-"
"You're shaking, Charlie. You do need to hear what I have to say, or you won't recover from what happened."
"I don't want to recover. I want to go back and make myself dig faster. Peter died because I didn't dig fast enough."
"Peter died because a bunch of, pardon my muggle, fucking terrorists attacked the train, Charlie. There wasn't anything more you could have done. Peter may have died before you and the others even got back to the compartment. It wasn't your fault."
"Yes, it was."
"You're thirteen, Charlie. Nothing that happened on that train was your fault."
Charlie didn't respond.
"I don't talk much about my brothers," Molly said. "You were too young when they died. I didn't want you growing up scared of Death Eaters, or the war."
"You're old enough now," Molly continued. "You remember your Uncle Gideon and your Uncle Fabian, Jonathan's father. Gideon never married. He was always at The Burrow, playing with you and Bill. He was there when Fred and George were born. My brothers loved all of you like you were their own. After they were killed, I wanted to remember how they looked when we were all together and how happy we all were, but all I could think about was what they must have looked like when they were tortured and killed by Death Eaters. I laid awake at night thinking about how much pain they had endured and how I hadn't been there to fight with them. I am still dealing with the pain of losing them and the guilt that I wasn't there to save them, even though I know I would have been tortured and killed, too."
Charlie put a hand on his mother's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Mum."
"Losing someone takes a part out of you, Charlie. Time helps, but the pain never goes away. Even after time dulls the wounds, the pain sits in your mind and reminds you it's there every time you think you're past it. I don't expect you to not feel pain from losing Peter, but I don't want you to carry the guilt, not if you have a method of getting rid of it. Because guilt spreads through you like poison," Molly said. "I want to tell you this is the last time you will see death or lose someone close to you, but you're a wizard and our lives are full of struggle and loss. If you let the guilt build inside of you, the weight of it will kill you, Charlie."
"I don't know how to stop it."
"You forgive yourself. I want you to mourn Peter as long as you need to. Mourn your friend and the innocence you lost on the train, but don't lose yourself in the process. Forgive yourself, Charlie. Because you won't survive in our world if you don't."
Charlie shook and Molly pulled him against her.
