I do not own Harry Potter. Charlotte Potter is my OC.
Captain Chosen One
Harry's lesson was the following morning. At dawn he dragged himself out of bed and got dressed. He climbed out of the barrel that served as the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room and started down the corridor. His limbs were heavy with exhaustion and there was a fog in his mind.
Why do I get the early morning Occlumency appointment?
The closer Harry got to the dungeon the more his apprehension grew. It was rare he had any one-on-one time with Snape. He didn't usually have to worry if Snape's hatred for his father would have an impact on how he was treated. But now he would be alone with him, far away from people who knew him only as Harry Lupin and not Harry Potter.
When he reached the closed classroom door Harry braced himself and gave a firm knock. A slow drawl told him to enter and Harry stepped inside the room. "Sir."
"Mr. Lupin," returned Snape, looking far too alert for the early hour. He stood from his chair and swept around his desk, his dark eyes roaming over Harry critically. "To save us both from wasting time, I want you to explain to me what you know about Occlumency."
"Charlie said that Occlumency is the magical defense of the mind. Occlumens use this ability to suppress emotions and memories to keep Legilimens from detecting falsehoods. I have to keep my mind blank and calm. I have to be emotionless."
Snape gave a short nod. "At least you have the grasp of the purpose of Occlumency. You and Miss Potter are unique in that you are able to create intangible barriers with your minds. This is a phenomenon known only to those who are connected by a magical bond. It is rare. If you learn to utilize it as a defense against Legilimency, as Miss Potter has, then even you will be able to repel the Dark Lord."
"Won't he know?" asked Harry with a frown. "I mean, like you said, a mental block is rare. Won't You-Know-Who realize that?"
Snape raised a brow. "I am sure you discussed this with Miss Potter."
"Briefly."
"What were her thoughts on the matter?"
"She said that You-Know-Who wouldn't detect something is off, because a mental block is part of having a magical bond and a magical bond is born out of love. She said he wouldn't even be able to register it."
"She is correct."
"How can he not?" said Harry in bafflement. "How would he not be able to tell when someone is fully closing their mind to him and not just shutting down their emotions?"
"Because he does not believe love has any power," replied Snape, his expression looking rather bored. "As difficult as it is for you to understand you will simply have to accept it."
"All right," said Harry grudgingly.
"Miss Potter's mind is connected to two wizards. It's why the Dark Lord's false vision travelled to you when Miss Potter tried to close herself to it. Dumbledore has his predictions as to how this is possible. Since we have no research to consult, we can only assume them to be correct. Miss Potter is the middleman. When she closes her mind to the Dark Lord, the visions she was meant to experience go to you."
"But my thoughts won't ever reach You-Know-Who."
"Not unless he catches a glimpse of them in Miss Potter's mind."
"So You-Know-Who's visions can skip from Charlie to me when she blocks him out. But my thoughts won't go to him when she blocks me out. Why?"
"The connection they share is not a telepathic one. They cannot directly send thoughts to one another." When Harry opened his mouth to press further Snape said in annoyance, "That is enough. You need not worry about You-Know-Who infiltrating your mind from afar. These lessons are to help you refine your techniques and give you professional training in Occlumency so that on the chance such a situation happens again you will be well-equipped to block him out. Do you understand?"
Harry nodded.
"Relax your mind and body—we will begin in a minute. I do want to make something very clear—absolutely no Shield Charms."
"Yes, sir."
He watched as Snape went over to the Pensieve sitting on his desk. He deposited some memories into its depths before turning back to face Harry. "Ready?"
"Yes."
"Legilimens!"
The sensation was unlike any other. The room disappeared and Harry was watching his own life pass before his eyes in a whiz of colour.
He was five years old, running through the grass in his bare feet. He was chasing the frogs near the pond's edge, laughing with glee as Remus followed him closely…
He was eight and sniffling, pain burning in his knee as blood trickled down his leg. Remus pulled him into his lap and said soothing words as he cleaned and patched the wound…
He was six and alone in his room, huddled in his blankets. He could hear the nanny downstairs cleaning up the dinner dishes. He missed his uncle and silent tears trailed down his cheeks. Far off in the distance, a wolf howled, and fear spiked through him…
He was fourteen and walking across the Hogwarts grounds with his sister by his side. She was looking at him seriously. She told him that she had something to tell him but he couldn't tell anyone, not even Ron or Hermione…
Harry finally gathered his senses, gathered his wits, and constructed a mental block that forced Snape out of his mind. When the room came into focus, he was breathing hard and hunched over, his hands balanced against his knees.
Snape's eyes narrowed. "What was so important that she did not want even your companions to know?"
Harry straightened. "It's a secret between siblings."
The stubborn tilt of his chin and the fierce protectiveness flashing in his brown eyes was so reminiscent of Lily. "I hope, for your sake, it is not a secret that will bring consequences upon either of you," said Snape warningly.
"It's not," said Harry evenly.
"Then let us continue. Do not linger in your memories. Do not give me even a glimpse."
"I haven't exactly had someone try to enter my mind before," said Harry in annoyance. "It caught me off guard."
"If you think you will get used to the sensation, you are mistaken," snapped Snape. "You have failed the moment you let yourself fall into it. Again. Legilimens!"
To Harry's irritation, Snape was correct. It was no easier the second time and he floundered in childhood memories before managing to thrust Snape out.
"Do not let me breach your mind!" hissed Snape.
"I'm trying! It's harder than I thought!"
"You are thinking too much! As your sister had to overcome her emotional response to my invasion, you will have to overcome your mental response. Don't think."
Snape gave Harry only a moment to catch his breath before he cast the Legilimency spell once more. Harry tried to conjure his mental block, the one that came so naturally when he did so with Charlie, but his thoughts got in the way. Thoughts about his memories, thoughts about what Snape was seeing and thoughts about how to craft his mental block in a quick, efficient manner.
Frustrated, Harry managed to hold out his wand. The flash of memories abruptly stopped and Harry stared at Snape, was had stumbled back against his desk due to Harry's Knockback Jinx. "Is that what you were meant to do?" he asked acidly.
"No, sir," said Harry moodily.
"I suppose if performing a mental block against my Legilimency is too difficult for you, we can begin with simple spells."
"With all due respect, sir, Charlie didn't master this in her first lesson."
"No, but she acknowledged what was holding her back."
Harry swallowed. His fear, which he had tried to suppress, twisted in his gut. "I'm scared," he said stiffly.
"We are all scared, Mr. Lupin. That does not mean we can surrender to our fear."
"No, you don't understand. I'm scared I'm going to fail Charlie. I'm not as skilled as she is. I'm not as clever or as powerful. Even if she doesn't think she's anything special, she is, and not because You-Know-Who chose her. I'm scared that I won't be strong enough to help her. To protect her."
Surprised by his honesty, Snape was quiet for a long moment. "I think," he said at last, "that is something you will need to discuss with her. If you want to protect your sister, Harry, you will need to confront your own fears and insecurities. They will only hinder you."
The use of his first name momentarily stunned Harry. "Yes, sir."
"We will continue with the use of spells to repel my Legilimency for now. Next week, I expect you to be less doubtful and more proficient."
"Okay," muttered Harry.
"Let us resume your training."
…
A few hours later the Golden Quartet stopped in the Great Hall long enough to grab some breakfast to take with them outside. They sat along the edge of the lake, nibbling on bacon and egg sandwiches while Charlie told Ron, Harry and Hermione about Salazar Slytherin's last descendants.
"If Merope Gaunt hadn't tricked Riddle with a love potion, You-Know-Who wouldn't even exist," said Ron bitterly. "This is all her fault."
"It's not!" The ferocity of Charlie's response caused Ron to recoil in surprise. Charlie flinched and said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout."
"What's with you?" asked Ron with a frown. "Don't you blame her at all?"
"Of course not," said Charlie quietly. "How could she ever have known what her deceit would cause?" She looked out over the lake, the water sparkling in the morning sunlight. "Her father and brother treated her as nothing more than a slave. An inconvenience. The expression on her face…how Merope carried herself…she was so defeated and lonely and resigned. I know what that's like. I know how that feels. To so believe that there's nothing better out there for you. That you're trapped. That you'll spend the rest of your life unloved and unwanted."
"Oh Charlie," whispered Hermione.
Ron reached out and grabbed Charlie's hand, squeezing tight. "We love you," he said gruffly, not quite making eye contact. "Mum and Dad have basically taken you in as their own. My siblings are crazy about you."
"And there's so many others who love you too," said Hermione, taking hold of Charlie's other hand.
"You're not alone anymore," said Harry, moving to hug his sister from behind. "Never again."
Charlie fought back her tears. "I know. Thanks, guys. Merope and I, we both had the chance to escape. But Merope had nowhere else to go and she'd already decided that she wanted a life with Tom Riddle. She loved him. She didn't want anything else. She loved him so much that she eventually gave up the lie. But Tom Riddle never wanted her. He left and Merope was right back where she started—alone and without love."
The four arranged themselves so they were huddling together. "Do you think if Voldemort's mother had lived, he wouldn't have turned out the way he did?" asked Hermione.
"I…I don't know," said Charlie, staring at the grass. "Maybe if she had loved him for him and not the fact he was part of his father would have been enough. But it doesn't really matter, does it? Voldemort was left to grow up without love, just like his mother." She gave her head a sharp shake, trying to clear her head of her depressing thoughts. "Enough bleakness for now. How did your first Occlumency lesson go, Harry?"
"Not great," said Harry, resting his chin against Charlie's shoulder. "I just couldn't block him out of my mind quick enough."
"You were scared at one point," said Charlie carefully. "Did something happen?"
"Did he act like a prat just because he hated your dad?" demanded Ron.
"No, nothing like that. I was just too worried and worked up to focus."
"Worried about what?" asked Charlie in concern.
"Worried that I'm going to fail you," said Harry softly. "I want to protect you, Charlie. But I don't think I'm skilled or strong enough to do so. Not like you."
"I'm not skilled," protested Charlie.
"Here we go again," sighed Ron.
"You are," said Hermione firmly. "Charlie, you're a talented witch."
"I'm not nearly as smart as you."
"And I'm not as strong as you," she countered.
"This is nonsense," said Charlie impatiently. "If I'm strong, it's because I have you. You give me strength. The Philosopher's Stone, the Chamber of Secrets, the Shrieking Shack, the Triwizard Tournament, the Ministry of Magic—I couldn't have gotten through any of that if it wasn't for you guys." She craned her neck so she was looking Harry dead in the eyes. "You could never fail me," she said passionately. "So please don't worry about that."
Harry swallowed past the lump in his throat. "You could never fail us either, Charlie."
"Never," said Ron fiercely.
"Never," echoed Hermione with a nod.
Charlie knew she was hypocrite for not quite believing them. But the stakes were different when she was the only one who could put a stop to Voldemort's reign of terror. She ignored the uncertainty that built in her gut and said, "Thank you."
"I guess I'm going to have to get it together by next week," said Harry with a sigh. "Snape isn't going to be happy if I keep overthinking things."
"I get where you're coming from, mate," said Ron sympathetically, setting his hand against Harry's back. "We're kinda rubbish compared to her, aren't we?"
"For sure."
"Honestly—"
"Never mind them, Charlie," interrupted Hermione with a smile.
Charlie rolled her eyes. "Come on, you lot. Let's get ready for class."
"Great," said Ron morosely, letting go of his friends and climbing to his feet. "Can't wait for the several hundred feet of parchment that's going to be assigned for homework."
It was an exaggeration but not by much. Charlie was beginning to understand why sixth and seventh-year students were given free periods. It was the only way to tackle the mountain of homework doled out by the teachers. Not only were they writing as if their lives depended on it, they were now expected to use non-verbal magic in Transfiguration, Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts.
For a few hours in the evenings, the Golden Quartet stationed themselves in an empty classroom. It was much quieter than their common rooms and allowed them to practice without distractions. Whenever Charlie succeeded in performing a spell non-verbally, she tried doing it with wandless magic. But her efforts were in vain, for nothing ever happened, at least until her frustration boiled over and books came flying off shelves and desks went skittering across the room.
"Well, you're doing it," Harry had said with a grin.
Charlie had not been amused. "Not much good if I can't actually control it."
To add to the stress they were under, Hagrid was now ignoring them completely. Their absence in his Care of Magical Creatures class had indeed been noticed. Charlie tried waving to him whenever she saw him on the grounds but he pretended not to see her. Charlie would have chased after him if she didn't have classes to attend, and missing even a minute could throw off her grasp of the lesson.
Charlie found her plans to see Hagrid further foiled when Flitwick handed her a thick roll of parchment Friday afternoon. She stared blankly at it. "Please tell me this is more homework and not the names of the Ravenclaws who want to attend the Quidditch tryouts."
"It's certainly not extra homework," said Flitwick in amusement.
Charlie took the scroll and unrolled it, flicking her eyes over the first column of names. "Wow. Okay. Guess I better start organizing. Thanks, Professor."
"You're welcome. Good luck, Miss Potter."
Charlie immediately went to book the Quidditch pitch for Saturday afternoon. When the date of the tryout was set, she created a notice and tacked it to the Ravenclaw common room's notice board. She told Brizon and a few others whose names she recognized on the list and told them to spread the word.
Saturday arrived and Charlie approached Ron at lunch. She lightly rested a hand against his shoulder and asked, "How did your tryouts go?"
"They went brilliantly," said Ron happily. "I'm still Keeper."
"I didn't expect anything less," replied Charlie.
Ron's confidence had been shaken last year thanks to the Slytherins. Charlie had a sneaking suspicion Draco and Pansy had been the driving forces behind the unflattering cheer and smug badges. But she was known to have a cunning idea or two of her own, and so with the help of Harry and Hermione they created a counter cheer and badges to shake Ron out of his funk. It had worked and Ron proudly wore his lion badge to every practice and match.
"Cormac McLaggen almost bumped me out of the position," muttered Ron. "We both caught all of the balls. Katie's got this belief that you shouldn't put friends on the team just because they're your friends, so I really thought she might pick him. But she didn't." Ron cast a glower towards the end of the table, where Cormac was stabbing at his sausages, his brow creased with anger. "He threw a fit. Shouted how it was unfair, 'cause Ginny was throwing me easy Quaffles and he got the tough ones so his saves weren't as smooth."
"Yikes. Sounds like a sore loser."
"The worst," said Ron feelingly.
"Ginny made the team too, then?"
"Yup!"
"That's great!" She scanned the table and spotted Ginny halfway down. The redhead caught her eye and Charlie gave her a thumbs-up and mouthed, 'Congratulations!' Ginny beamed at her.
"Are you ready for your tryouts?" asked Ron. "How many signed up, anyway?"
Charlie reached into her bookbag and removed the scroll. Ron gaped at it. "Merlin, I'm sorry I asked."
"What is that?" Harry asked, coming up behind Charlie.
"Her Quidditch prospects," said Ron.
Harry's eyes went wide. "There's no way all of those Ravenclaws are interested in playing Quidditch."
"They're not," said Hermione matter-of-factly, coming to stand on Charlie's other side. "It's not Quidditch they're coming for. It's Charlie."
"What?" asked Charlie in disbelief.
"Ever since the Ministry caught sight of Voldemort last year, they've had to confess that they've been wrong these past two years. Now everyone knows everything you've been saying is true and that the Ministry failed you. You're the Chosen One, Charlie. Of course people are going to flock to a tryout held by the Chosen One."
"I…I really don't know what to say to that," said Charlie, mystified.
The morning post arrived, causing Harry and the two girls to go to their respective tables. The number of owls swooping about the Great Hall had increased dramatically. Parents were anxious to hear from their children, to be reassured that they were safe, and children wanted to hear from home to make sure all was well.
Charlie's heart ached as she stared at the sea of cream-coloured envelopes. Sirius had sent her letters weekly over the past two years. It was difficult to grasp that she would no longer have the excitement of tearing open the envelope addressed to her in his loopy handwriting.
She blinked when a package landed in front of her, knocking into her goblet of pumpkin juice. She snagged her cup to steady it and her confusion evaporated when she tore off the wrapping. "I forgot about this."
Hermione let out a sigh of relief at the sight of the brand-new sixth-year Potions textbook. "Now you can get rid of the other one."
Charlie bit on her bottom lip, thinking intently. "Maybe not."
She checked to make sure none of the teachers at the High Table were looking in her direction. She took out her wand and used a couple of spells to switch the covers, so that the Half-Blood Prince's book appeared to be new and the fresh copy appeared to be tattered.
"Charlie!" said Hermione furiously.
"I'll return the book when the year is done," said Charlie soothingly. "It's not hurting anyone, Hermione. It's actually really helpful. I think the Half-Blood Prince could teach me more than Professor Slughorn could."
The quartet finished lunch and left the Great Hall together. When they were in the Entrance Hall Hermione explained to the males what Charlie had done, but they did not share in her indigence. "Nice," said Ron in approval.
"It would be a shame to get rid of the all-knowing textbook," said Harry with a nod.
"Don't any of you see that this book might be a problem?" demanded Hermione.
Ron grinned. "You're just angry that Charlie's outclassing you in Potions."
"I am not. I just think it should be done by the book."
"But she is doing it by the book," said Harry. "She's following the book very well, in fact."
Hermione glared at him. "Shut up."
"Have you heard anything from Remus?" asked Charlie hopefully.
Harry shook his head. "No. He said he might not write much this year. Thinks it might be for the best, given the Order and all."
"Wish Mum would follow that logic," muttered Ron. "I get one every day. Keeps telling me to look out for Ginny. Don't know what she's on about. Ginny doesn't need my help in protecting herself—I'd just get in the way."
"I better head out there," said Charlie. She made a move to look at her watch before remembering that she had taken it off. It had been a gift from Sirius and she found it very hard to wear these days. She cleared her throat and let her wrist fall by her side. "My tryouts are going to start soon."
"Can we come?" asked Harry with interest.
"Sure. I could use the moral support."
"I wanted to come and see the chaos, but yeah, I guess I could provide some moral support."
Charlie scowled at him as Ron laughed. "You're just as bad as Scarlet. I wrote to her after Professor Flitwick gave me the list. She gave me no sympathy. She thought it was hilarious."
They traversed outside and to the Quidditch pitch, where the stands were already full of people. Charlie blinked. "Is there a game I don't know about?"
"Chosen One," sang Hermione.
Charlie winced. She, Hermione, Ron and Harry lingered at the edge of the pitch, watching as a flood of Ravenclaws spilled by them to stand on the field, brooms clutched in hands. Charlie was now acutely aware of the whispers and stares aimed in her direction.
"You'd think I'd be used to all the staring by now," she muttered.
When it came for the tryouts to officially start, the stands and field were practically full. Charlie rubbed a hand down her face, glanced down at the captain's badge glinting against her robes, and took a breath.
"Okay. I'm going to need some help. Harry, Ron, want to lend a hand? I'm going to need a Keeper and a Chaser that are skilled and impartial."
"Absolutely," said Harry with a grin. "We'll make them work for it, right Ron?"
Ron cackled. "This is going to be brilliant."
"Hermione, do you think you'll be able to stay on a broom and write at the same time?"
"I may not be as adept as you three when it comes to flying, but I think I can manage that," said Hermione with a sniff.
Harry and Ron used their wands to summon their broomsticks. Hermione mounted a school broom and took off into the air, her expression tight with nerves but determined. Charlie moved to stand in front of the group and she whistled sharply, catching their attention.
"Aurora, can you stand over there?" Charlie called, pointing off to her right. Aurora saluted her and went to take up the position. "Danny, please stand over here." She gestured off to her left. "Cho, please go wait by the goalposts." When her friends were where she wanted them to be, Charlie dug out her scroll. "When I call your name, I want you to go to Aurora if you want to try out to be a Beater, Danny if you want to be a Chaser, or Cho if you want to be a Keeper. If there's anyone still standing in the middle of the field when I'm done, you're clearly not on the list, and I'd like you to please watch from the stands or leave."
Having foiled their plot to crash the practice, a dozen Ravenclaws sprinted back to the castle. Charlie read through her list and when everyone had chosen a position, she pointedly directed the first-years to do a lap around the pitch. As she expected, none of them could stay in the air for very long, so she sent them on their way with kind words.
The group was smaller now, though not by much. Charlie straddled her Firebolt and said, "Keepers, form a straight line behind Cho. When it's your turn, you're going to save as many Quaffles from Harry as you can."
"He can't help with the Ravenclaw tryouts," a fifth-year protested. "He's a Hufflepuff!"
"There's nothing in the rules that says he can't assist with tryouts," chimed in Hermione. "It's perfectly legal. It's also very fair. Harry won't favour anyone because he's not from our House."
"Exactly," said Charlie with a nod. "Don't expect him to go easy on you. Cho, are you okay to go first?"
"Of course!" Cho said, gripping her broomstick. "Ready when you are."
Charlie and Hermione hovered just off to the side of the three goal hoops. Charlie watched each prospective Keeper attentively, muttering observations and critiques, which Hermione rapidly transcribed on parchment. When the Keepers were finished, Charlie and Hermione reviewed the meticulous notes next to each name.
"Cho saved all the Quaffles with little effort," Charlie said. "She was the quickest and the most perceptive by far."
"Yes, I agree." Hermione circled Cho's name. "Looks like you have your Keeper."
Charlie announced her decision and sent the disappointed and disgruntled Keeper hopefuls back to the castle. Cho grinned in delight and went to sit in the stands to watch the rest of the tryouts.
Charlie utilized the same technique with the Chasers, with Ron guarding the goals. Danny Carting, who'd been Chaser ever since Charlie joined the team in her first year, scored the most points. Coming in second was Brizon Jenkins and third-year Stewart Ackerley surprised everyone by coming in third out of the group.
Deeming Brizon, Stewart and Danny to be her Chasers, Charlie moved on to the Beaters, putting herself in the line of fire. It was Hermione's turn to watch intently and Charlie was grateful for her precise notes. She'd taken a few hits to the head and her vision was slightly hazy and her thoughts caught in a fog.
Aurora Bole, also an original team member, snapped up her old Beater position with ease. Joining her was Trevor Birch, a blonde fourth-year who had terrific aim.
Satisfied and delighted with her choices, Charlie tried to shoo the remainder of the crowd away. There was a lot of grumbling and complaining, but they all scattered when Ron shook his fist at them and swore.
"Awesome job, guys," said Charlie, her voice slightly raspy from all the shouting she'd been doing. She surveyed Cho, Aurora, Danny, Brizon, Stewart and Trevor with pride. "I can't wait to spend the season with you. I'll let you know the time and date of our first practice. Does anyone have any questions?"
"Yeah. Do I have to listen to you?" joked Danny.
Charlie grinned. "Yes."
"Still better than Scarlet."
"Old team humour," Brizon muttered to a bewildered Stewart and Trevor.
"Who're you calling old?" asked Aurora, moving to put Brizon in a headlock.
"No one," croaked Brizon, struggling against the hold.
Charlie laughed. "That's enough for today. Thanks again, guys!"
While her team trekked their way back to the castle, Charlie, Ron, Hermione and Harry trudged towards Hagrid's hut. "That was great," said Harry cheerfully.
"Tryouts are much more fun when it's not my position at stake," said Ron happily.
When they neared Hagrid's hut, it was to see Buckbeak tied to a fence post. Charlie approached the grey Hippogriff and dipped into a bow, which was immediately returned. She stroked his head, her fingers smoothing over soft feathers.
"Must be nice to be home, huh?" she whispered. "I know Hagrid's really happy to have you back."
The half-giant himself appeared around the corner, his lips parting to deliver a stern reprimand to those interacting with his creature. But he paused when he realized it was the Golden Quartet. For a moment they just stared at each other.
"Hagrid," ventured Hermione hesitantly.
Hagrid turned on his heel and stormed into his home a word. The door slammed shut behind him and the four flinched. "That went well," spoke Harry.
Charlie frowned and strode firmly up to the hut. She tried the door but it was locked. She let out a huff and pulled out her wand. "I'm going to count to five! If you don't open the door before I'm done, I'm doing it for you!"
She stumbled back when Hagrid thrust open the door. He glowered down at her. "Was that a threat?"
"No," replied Charlie. "It was a tactic to get you to open the door to us."
"Think yer clever, do yeh?" said Hagrid in annoyance. "Should o' bin in Slytherin with those kind o' tricks."
"I may have been told that once or twice," said Charlie. "May we come in? We really would like to talk."
Hagrid found himself hard-pressed to turn away the four pleading gazes turned upon him. He stood aside and they quickly filed into the hut before he could change his mind. They arranged themselves at the table, watching Hagrid as he stomped about the kitchen, making them cups of tea.
"Well?" he said impatiently as he handed over their tea. "What're yeh lot doin' here?"
"We missed you," said Charlie softly. "I'm sorry we couldn't take your class this year, Hagrid. We didn't mean to hurt your feelings."
"We just couldn't fit it into our timetable," said Hermione earnestly.
"Yeah, with all the homework the professors are putting on us, our free period is far from free," added Harry.
Ron noticed something hanging overtop one of Hagrid's barrels and he went to investigate. He managed to fight back a gag at the sight of the large maggots twisting about. "Are these for your lessons?" he asked.
"No. They're fer Aragog."
He burst into sobs, large tears splashing into his beard and onto the wooden tabletop. Charlie and Hermione hurried to comfort him, patting his back. "Is something wrong with Aragog?" asked Charlie.
"He's ill," said Hagrid with a sniff. "He ain't really eatin' or movin'. I don' think he has much time left. An' we've bin together fer years, since I was a lad in school. I dunno what I'll do without him."
Hermione shifted a glance at her friends. Steeling herself, she asked, "What can we do, Hagrid?"
"Nothin'," said Hagrid shakily. "It ain't safe fer yeh teh go near the tribe. They're restless, yeh see. Know Aragog's ill. They know me, so I can get near 'em. Bu' thank yeh fer the offer."
Hagrid collected himself and began to ask them about their classes. Harry and Ron exchanged relieved glances when he wasn't looking, as delving into the Forbidden Forest to take care of Aragog was the absolute last thing they wanted to do.
"Suppose I always knew yeh couldn' take my class," spoke Hagrid. "Not enough time in a day. Not unless yeh had a Time-Turner."
"Well, that's impossible now," said Hermione. "The entire lot got destroyed during our mission at the Ministry of Magic."
"Probably for the best," muttered Charlie, who shivered at the thought of Voldemort in possession of one.
They talked until darkness fell over the grounds. Hagrid was in better spirits when they left, standing in the door of his hut and watching them walk back to the castle. Since it was dinnertime, they went straight to the Great Hall.
"You must really be excited to be captain. It's been a few hours since practice and you're still wearing your Quidditch robes," joked Aurora as Charlie and Hermione went by.
"I'm dedicated," said Charlie with a grin.
The evening mail arrived partway through dinner. There were only a few owls that delivered mail at the nightly hour—two of them carried copies of the evening edition of the Daily Prophet. They were deposited in front of the girls and they began to read through the scroll as they ate.
It had become routine for Harry and Ron to come over once the newspapers were delivered. They stooped over the girls' shoulders, their faces tense as they read over the daily list of disappearances, deaths and horrible happenings.
Complete shock coursed through Charlie as she read one particular name. "Stan Shunpike? Arrested for Death Eater activity?" she said incredulously.
"That's the Knight Bus bloke, right?" asked Ron.
Charlie nodded, quickly reading the article that detailed the circumstances of Stan's arrest. "He was overheard divulging Death Eaters' secret plans in a pub. Are they crazy? What Death Eater would go around bragging about their secret plans in public?"
Harry raised a brow. "What wizard would go around making up stories about Death Eater plans during the Second Wizarding War?"
"All right, so Stan should have known better, but they didn't have to arrest him," said Charlie with a scowl. "Any investigation would have told them he was just bluffing."
"They want to seem like they're doing something," reasoned Hermione. "They've got to, after all the time they wasted ignoring you and Professor Dumbledore."
"Throwing innocent people in Azkaban just to make the general public feel comfort that things are being done is disgusting," said Charlie frostily.
"Maybe they really think Stan is a Death Eater," spoke Ron.
"They're wrong."
"We know," said Hermione gently. "The Ministry is clearly grasping. They want to do something but they have no idea what to do. Voldemort is several steps ahead of them. I'm sure people have lost their trust in the Ministry and that doesn't help the state of things. Everyone is terrified. You heard Padma this morning—her parents want to take her and her sister out of school."
"Eloise Midgeon left last night," said Ron. "Her dad came and got her. She was really upset. I don't know what these parents are thinking, though. Hogwarts is the safest place right now. Everyone knows You-Know-Who wouldn't dare come near Dumbledore."
"Well, Professor Dumbledore isn't here all that much these days," muttered Charlie, shooting a glance at the High Table. She hadn't seen the Headmaster since their lesson. His chair had remained empty for all meals for the past few days. "I wonder what he's doing."
"Probably something to do with the Order," said Hermione. "It's…well, it's looking quite bad. A lot of damage is being done."
Charlie gripped her newspaper, a lump rising in her throat. "Harry, have you heard anything about Hannah?" she whispered.
Pain filled Harry's brown eyes at the mention of his Housemate. "No. Sprout would only tell us that Hannah is with her family right now and to stop asking her questions. That the personal details aren't any of our business."
Charlie's fingers trembled. Hannah had been removed from Herbology a day ago to be informed that her mother had been found murdered. "All because Voldemort thinks Mrs. Abbott tainted the pure-blood Abbott lineage by making Hannah a half-blood."
"How do you know that?" asked Ron in a hushed voice. "Did you get—?"
"No. It's just a guess."
"You're probably right," said Hermione quietly.
Charlie tried focussing on the newspaper, tried to push back the swell of helpless thoughts. Her eyes went wide when she came across an article depicting a second raid on Malfoy Manor, led by Arthur Weasley. "Hey! Ron, your dad conducted a search at Malfoy Manor!"
"Says he was acting on a confidential tip-off," said Ron, scanning the article.
"Yeah. That was me. I told him my suspicions at King's Cross." Touched that he had taken her seriously enough to act on her concerns, she quickly grew disappointed when she read that nothing had been found during the search. "The raid did not uncover anything out of the ordinary."
"Does that put you at ease?" asked Hermione. "There's nothing at Malfoy Manor and Malfoy couldn't have brought anything here to Hogwarts. No Dark objects would have made it past the search process."
"You heard him talking to Mr. Borgin," said Charlie with a frown. "There's at least two things at that store he's really interested in."
"Maybe he changed his mind. Decided it wasn't worth getting caught."
"He didn't sound like he had any intention of changing his mind when he threatened Mr. Borgin," said Charlie flatly.
"At the very least, you know that whatever he wanted he can't bring into Hogwarts," said Hermione in exasperation. "It's impossible to smuggle anything in here."
"Charlotte, Miss Granger!"
The four teens jumped as Slughorn came up behind them. "Professor," said Charlie politely.
"I'm having a little get-together in my office. A luxurious dessert is being prepared especially for the members of my little party. McLaggen, Zabini, and Melinda Bobbins will be there and I would be honoured if you girls would join us as well."
"I'd love to, Professor, but I'm afraid I promised Ron I would review his Transfiguration essay," said Charlie smoothly. "It's due tomorrow."
Sensing an opportunity, Hermione opened her mouth, but Harry interjected with, "Good thing my essay is ready to be handed in."
There was a certain shine to Hermione's eyes that told Charlie she wanted to throttle Harry. Folding her hands in her lap, Charlie said innocently, "Did you know that Harry wants to find a cure for lycanthropy, Professor?"
Slughorn chuckled. "That's quite ambitious! I don't know if there is such a thing, my boy."
"Sure there is," said Harry, tilting his chin defiantly. "People thought Wolfsbane was impossible but that didn't stop Damocles Belby. A cure exists out there somewhere, but not enough people care enough to try and find it. But I will."
His voice was confident and determined and his eyes flashed with passion. Slughorn paused and regarded Harry closely, as if he were seeing him for the first time. "Your guardian is Remus Lupin, correct?"
"What's that got to do with anything?"
"Harry!" hissed Hermione.
But Slughorn was not angered by Harry's tone in the slightest. He grinned widely and clapped the boy on the back. "You're a fierce one, aren't you, m'boy? Do you think you have the talent to create a cure?"
"Not now," said Harry. "I haven't had much time to go off on my own and get creative. That's a big part of the process, right? Experimenting and doing things no one has done before. I still have a lot to learn, but I'll get there."
"Well, I'm sure Charlotte has mentioned it to you, but Damocles Belby is an old friend of mine," said Slughorn proudly. "I've plenty of stories to tell about his path in crafting Wolfsbane! Come along, I can tell you all about them during dessert. I expect to see you next time, Charlotte!"
Slughorn took a gobsmacked Harry and a helpless Hermione by the shoulders and cheerfully escorted them out of the Great Hall. Ron blinked after them, torn between offense at his dismissal and relief at not having to endure Slughorn's overbearing company.
"Merlin, Charlie, how do you think so fast on your feet?"
"A childhood spent with the Dursleys," she replied.
'How did this go so wrong for me?!' Harry demanded.
Charlie grinned. 'You showed him your drive and passion. It's not solely talent Professor Slughorn looks at—it's a person's character as well. Have fun, bro.'
'Charlie!'
