Charlie Weasley left his meeting with Professor Figg yawning
enviously. She was probably going to sleep now, while he was going to be
working till the sun came up. First, however, had to get home and pretend
to just that, which meant he had to get far enough from Hogwarts to
apparate home. For that, he got to use his first love, his broom.
He had always been a great flier, he had known that since his dad had gotten him an old Shooting Star for his fifth birthday. In his second year at Hogwarts, he had been made the Gryffindors' seeker, and he helped them win many games during his six-year stint on the house quidditch team. Flying had been his first love, long before any girls had looked his way. Not that the girls mattered, Charlie had always found himself ignoring them anyway.
As he flew over the lake, Charlie found himself staring longingly into the black waters, rolling about much more violently than any lake should. He tutted softly and shook his head. He would have to do something about that. As tempting as the water was, however, he had to get back to the Burrow first.
Finally, he was outside of Hogwarts' anti-apparation field. He felt the edge of the magic cascade gently against his body, an electric tingle that put a smile on his face. He landed gently, then apparated into the den.
His mother sat on the couch waiting for him. There was a dangerous glint in her soft eyes, and her plump form was practically radiating anger. "Charles Weasley! I would think you would know better than to go traipsing off in the middle of the night, leaving me worried sick, and I-!"
She was cut off by Charlie's father, who was trying desperately to diffuse the situation. "Now, Molly, I told you that Charlie would be home late. We had a meeting and…" his voice trailed off at the look on his wife's face.
"And you and Bill have both been home for over four hours already!"
"Mum, it's barely been three hours for one thing, and for another I was meeting privately with Dumbledore!" A small white lie. He was actually meeting Ms. Figg at Dumbledore's behest, but he had heard more than once what his mother thought of the professor, and Charlie had no desire to broach the topic yet again.
"Nice try, Charlie! You're father told me that you left the room with that Figg woman!"
Oh shit. With a glare at his father, Charlie sighed and said, "Mum, I was meeting her at Dumbledore's request. Honestly!"
"Then why wasn't he with you two, instead of letting you have a PRIVATE meeting?"
Charlie's eyes bugged out a tad and he shook his head. "Honestly, Mum, do you think I fancy her or something? It was a professional meeting, about our shared field of expertise."
"I can't believe you! Associating with witches like that…" her voice trailed off bitterly.
Charlie rolled his eyes. "What is your problem with Ms. Figg, Mum? I don't believe you've met her, but you insist on having this opinion that's completely unfounded."
"Charlie, you're too young to understand," his father replied mildly, looking longingly at the stairs that led to his bedroom.
"Well, explain it to me," Charlie challenged, crossing his arms across his chest. "I've been a legal adult for how long now? I have a right to know."
His mother looked him in the eye coldly as she began to speak, "Arabella Figg was at Hogwarts around the same time I was. I graduated in her fourth year. Now, she was best friends with Harry's mother. I didn't get invited to the Potters' wedding. I didn't know them at all, really, but I know that Ms. Figg was a bridesmaid. She'd been dating Black for years by then, off and on. It was rumored that she had led him down the dark paths, but was too wily for the aurors to pin anything on her."
"Oh, Mum! Honestly, Black's been acquitted, you know that!"
"But she was friends with Pettigrew too!"
Charlie shook his head. "So were the Potters! So were Sirius Black and Remus Lupin! They were all friends!"
"Well, you know what else, Charles Weasley?" His mother's eyes flashed an intense and ugly color. "She was Harry's godmother."
Charlie looked puzzled. "Why didn't she adopt him then?"
"No one knows. She vanished immediately after Black's trial, at which she testified, only turned up again when she started teaching. It was like she vanished completely. She abandoned her responsibility to Harry, only to turn up again as soon as he's in the ground. Why do you think that is?"
Charlie just stared, dumbfounded, at a small burn mark (probably from Fred and George) in the carpet. How could that be? She abandoned Harry? To the DURSLEYS? Why? "I have to go to bed," he muttered softly, trudging up the stairs.
Oh well, he would ask Ms. Figg about all of that later. For now, he had a responsibility. He shut and locked his bedroom door, turned off the light, and waited with his ear against the door. Inevitably, he heard his parents going up the stairs and into bed.
He waited a full fifteen minutes for everything in the house to go silent. It took much less time than it normally would, as four of the seven Weasley children were at Hogwarts, and the other two besides Charlie were both morning people who went to sleep infernally early. Then, he patted the pouch on his belt, checking to make sure its contents were still there, and fastened his cloak more securely. With a faintly wicked smile, he clutched his broom close and apparated back to where he had just been.
Charlie stood back in the meadow on the very edges of the Hogwarts non-apparation field. He felt the warm tingle again as he stepped back in, then mounted his Nimbus 2000, his current broom, and flew off towards Hogwarts. No, not to Hogwarts, to the lake.
Finally, he reached the dark, rollicking waters. He set down gently on the shoreline, then shrunk his broom until he could put it in his pocket, which he did. He dug into his belt pouch, pulled out a little piece of what looked like seaweed. He waded about waist-deep into the water, rocking him much more violently than the normally still lake should have been able to, then put the gillyweed in his mouth. As he began to suck on it, he immediately ducked his head under the water, as it was rapidly becoming difficult to breathe air.
As soon as he was submerged, Charlie found it much easier to breathe the water, and he began to swim downward into the lake. The lake was fathoms deep, and he had to swim to the bottom. Fortunately, he was a strong swimmer, and made the whole trek in all of twenty minutes. Finally, there it was. A large magical force field, designed to keep water out but let people pass through. He finally got there, and fell through the barrier with a strange sounding pop. He quickly spit out the gillyweed and cast a drying spell on himself.
A tall, burly, blonde wizard in his early twenties walked up to him, grinning. "Top of the evening to ya, Charlie!"
" 'Lo, Max," Charlie replied. Maxfield Crinzel was a character, but the two of them together knew absolutely everything on their two favorite subjects: quidditch and dragons. "The water rocking is visible from half a mile up." Max just shook his head apologetically without replying, so Charlie added, "Which one is the most ready so far?"
Max put a hand to his chin, stroked his smooth chin absentmindedly. "Hmm, I think it'd be Giselle, which is a good thing since she's mighty taken with you."
Charlie nodded and grinned. Giselle was a Swedish shortsnout, a stubborn and strong little breed of bluish gray dragons. He had taken quite a liking to her, and the feeling seemed mutual. "Are we up to trying her paces?"
"Ready when you are. We've got the harness up, and it's rigged with invisibility to avoid sightings. Just be careful of lightning, because we can't cover that up!"
"Sure, Max, sounds jolly," Charlie nodded with a wry smile. "I'm not going to try for the breath weapon, not yet. I think the greater danger is keeping her from using it on ME!"
The two wizards walked towards the blurry shapes ahead. They kept the dragons a five minute walk from the entrance, mostly for secrecy and safety reasons. Charlie cooed a little at most of the dragons they past, and there were many types. The Pen, as Charlie affectionately termed their underwater headquarters, held Chinese Fireballs, Russian Reds, Norweigian Ridgebacks, African Stonewyrms, Hungarian Horntails, and even a few English Arrowheads, which were especially rare and had nearly been wiped out by a few of Merlin's muggle companions a long time ago.
Finally, they came to the Swedish Shortsnouts section, Charlie's personal favorite. Giselle was a shortsnout, cobablt blue, with a pug face and bright blue eyes. She was among the smallest of the six shortsnouts they had obtained for the project, a fiery-tempered female that had much more blue than grey, as opposed to the even mixture common among her breed.
At present, she was thrashing her tail and stamping her foot irritably at them, ferociously twitching her snout, which had been securely bound to avoid stray lightning bolts. "Hey, girl," Charlie whispered soothingly as he approached her pen. As soon as Giselle realized it was Charlie, she visibly calmed down, though her tail was still frustratedly wagging back and forth. Charlie smiled sweetly at her as he entered her cage, another magical device that let humans pass through but dragons couldn't get out of without magical aid.
Patting her snout softly, Charlie smiled at her, calming her as the other witches and wizards came in. They strapped her into her saddle, then Charlie hopped on. "Detecto Giselle," he said distinctly, and the dragon glowed softly with a blue light. "Transpiro Giselle," Charlie added, popping another piece of gillyweed in his mouth. Giselle didn't need one. All dragons could breathe water to a certain extent, which was how many of them had hid from muggles over the centuries. The two exited out the chamber quickly, with Charlie softly tugging on the reins as he spit out yet another piece of gillyweed into his hand to use on the way back down.
Within seconds, Giselle had swam up to the surface and out of the water. Charlie gasped, trying as hard as he could not to scream with exhilaration. This was great, this was wonderful! He had loved flying on a broom, but this was so much more! Giselle responded just as well as his Nimbus did, it was like she was trying to react before he could tug on the reins. There was no way to describe the feeling he got riding Giselle that night.
After half an hour of flight, Charlie remembered that he had to go back down, below the waves. Putting the gillyweed back into his mouth, he guided Giselle back into the water. The shortsnout responded with only a huff at having to go back under the water into the pen she disliked. Still, she agreed, she relented, she dove down into the turbulent waters.
"How was it?" Max asked eagerly as Charlie hopped off Giselle's back.
Charlie just threw back his head and laughed, an optimistic glint in his blue eyes. "Wonderful! Absolutely wonderful!"
***
Charlie finally apparated back into the den at the Burrow nearly two hours later, only to have his mother staring at him, pointing at the clock, which would give away his location at all times. "Oh shit," Charlie muttered under his breath.
"Oh shit is right," Mrs. Weasley replied furiously.
He had always been a great flier, he had known that since his dad had gotten him an old Shooting Star for his fifth birthday. In his second year at Hogwarts, he had been made the Gryffindors' seeker, and he helped them win many games during his six-year stint on the house quidditch team. Flying had been his first love, long before any girls had looked his way. Not that the girls mattered, Charlie had always found himself ignoring them anyway.
As he flew over the lake, Charlie found himself staring longingly into the black waters, rolling about much more violently than any lake should. He tutted softly and shook his head. He would have to do something about that. As tempting as the water was, however, he had to get back to the Burrow first.
Finally, he was outside of Hogwarts' anti-apparation field. He felt the edge of the magic cascade gently against his body, an electric tingle that put a smile on his face. He landed gently, then apparated into the den.
His mother sat on the couch waiting for him. There was a dangerous glint in her soft eyes, and her plump form was practically radiating anger. "Charles Weasley! I would think you would know better than to go traipsing off in the middle of the night, leaving me worried sick, and I-!"
She was cut off by Charlie's father, who was trying desperately to diffuse the situation. "Now, Molly, I told you that Charlie would be home late. We had a meeting and…" his voice trailed off at the look on his wife's face.
"And you and Bill have both been home for over four hours already!"
"Mum, it's barely been three hours for one thing, and for another I was meeting privately with Dumbledore!" A small white lie. He was actually meeting Ms. Figg at Dumbledore's behest, but he had heard more than once what his mother thought of the professor, and Charlie had no desire to broach the topic yet again.
"Nice try, Charlie! You're father told me that you left the room with that Figg woman!"
Oh shit. With a glare at his father, Charlie sighed and said, "Mum, I was meeting her at Dumbledore's request. Honestly!"
"Then why wasn't he with you two, instead of letting you have a PRIVATE meeting?"
Charlie's eyes bugged out a tad and he shook his head. "Honestly, Mum, do you think I fancy her or something? It was a professional meeting, about our shared field of expertise."
"I can't believe you! Associating with witches like that…" her voice trailed off bitterly.
Charlie rolled his eyes. "What is your problem with Ms. Figg, Mum? I don't believe you've met her, but you insist on having this opinion that's completely unfounded."
"Charlie, you're too young to understand," his father replied mildly, looking longingly at the stairs that led to his bedroom.
"Well, explain it to me," Charlie challenged, crossing his arms across his chest. "I've been a legal adult for how long now? I have a right to know."
His mother looked him in the eye coldly as she began to speak, "Arabella Figg was at Hogwarts around the same time I was. I graduated in her fourth year. Now, she was best friends with Harry's mother. I didn't get invited to the Potters' wedding. I didn't know them at all, really, but I know that Ms. Figg was a bridesmaid. She'd been dating Black for years by then, off and on. It was rumored that she had led him down the dark paths, but was too wily for the aurors to pin anything on her."
"Oh, Mum! Honestly, Black's been acquitted, you know that!"
"But she was friends with Pettigrew too!"
Charlie shook his head. "So were the Potters! So were Sirius Black and Remus Lupin! They were all friends!"
"Well, you know what else, Charles Weasley?" His mother's eyes flashed an intense and ugly color. "She was Harry's godmother."
Charlie looked puzzled. "Why didn't she adopt him then?"
"No one knows. She vanished immediately after Black's trial, at which she testified, only turned up again when she started teaching. It was like she vanished completely. She abandoned her responsibility to Harry, only to turn up again as soon as he's in the ground. Why do you think that is?"
Charlie just stared, dumbfounded, at a small burn mark (probably from Fred and George) in the carpet. How could that be? She abandoned Harry? To the DURSLEYS? Why? "I have to go to bed," he muttered softly, trudging up the stairs.
Oh well, he would ask Ms. Figg about all of that later. For now, he had a responsibility. He shut and locked his bedroom door, turned off the light, and waited with his ear against the door. Inevitably, he heard his parents going up the stairs and into bed.
He waited a full fifteen minutes for everything in the house to go silent. It took much less time than it normally would, as four of the seven Weasley children were at Hogwarts, and the other two besides Charlie were both morning people who went to sleep infernally early. Then, he patted the pouch on his belt, checking to make sure its contents were still there, and fastened his cloak more securely. With a faintly wicked smile, he clutched his broom close and apparated back to where he had just been.
Charlie stood back in the meadow on the very edges of the Hogwarts non-apparation field. He felt the warm tingle again as he stepped back in, then mounted his Nimbus 2000, his current broom, and flew off towards Hogwarts. No, not to Hogwarts, to the lake.
Finally, he reached the dark, rollicking waters. He set down gently on the shoreline, then shrunk his broom until he could put it in his pocket, which he did. He dug into his belt pouch, pulled out a little piece of what looked like seaweed. He waded about waist-deep into the water, rocking him much more violently than the normally still lake should have been able to, then put the gillyweed in his mouth. As he began to suck on it, he immediately ducked his head under the water, as it was rapidly becoming difficult to breathe air.
As soon as he was submerged, Charlie found it much easier to breathe the water, and he began to swim downward into the lake. The lake was fathoms deep, and he had to swim to the bottom. Fortunately, he was a strong swimmer, and made the whole trek in all of twenty minutes. Finally, there it was. A large magical force field, designed to keep water out but let people pass through. He finally got there, and fell through the barrier with a strange sounding pop. He quickly spit out the gillyweed and cast a drying spell on himself.
A tall, burly, blonde wizard in his early twenties walked up to him, grinning. "Top of the evening to ya, Charlie!"
" 'Lo, Max," Charlie replied. Maxfield Crinzel was a character, but the two of them together knew absolutely everything on their two favorite subjects: quidditch and dragons. "The water rocking is visible from half a mile up." Max just shook his head apologetically without replying, so Charlie added, "Which one is the most ready so far?"
Max put a hand to his chin, stroked his smooth chin absentmindedly. "Hmm, I think it'd be Giselle, which is a good thing since she's mighty taken with you."
Charlie nodded and grinned. Giselle was a Swedish shortsnout, a stubborn and strong little breed of bluish gray dragons. He had taken quite a liking to her, and the feeling seemed mutual. "Are we up to trying her paces?"
"Ready when you are. We've got the harness up, and it's rigged with invisibility to avoid sightings. Just be careful of lightning, because we can't cover that up!"
"Sure, Max, sounds jolly," Charlie nodded with a wry smile. "I'm not going to try for the breath weapon, not yet. I think the greater danger is keeping her from using it on ME!"
The two wizards walked towards the blurry shapes ahead. They kept the dragons a five minute walk from the entrance, mostly for secrecy and safety reasons. Charlie cooed a little at most of the dragons they past, and there were many types. The Pen, as Charlie affectionately termed their underwater headquarters, held Chinese Fireballs, Russian Reds, Norweigian Ridgebacks, African Stonewyrms, Hungarian Horntails, and even a few English Arrowheads, which were especially rare and had nearly been wiped out by a few of Merlin's muggle companions a long time ago.
Finally, they came to the Swedish Shortsnouts section, Charlie's personal favorite. Giselle was a shortsnout, cobablt blue, with a pug face and bright blue eyes. She was among the smallest of the six shortsnouts they had obtained for the project, a fiery-tempered female that had much more blue than grey, as opposed to the even mixture common among her breed.
At present, she was thrashing her tail and stamping her foot irritably at them, ferociously twitching her snout, which had been securely bound to avoid stray lightning bolts. "Hey, girl," Charlie whispered soothingly as he approached her pen. As soon as Giselle realized it was Charlie, she visibly calmed down, though her tail was still frustratedly wagging back and forth. Charlie smiled sweetly at her as he entered her cage, another magical device that let humans pass through but dragons couldn't get out of without magical aid.
Patting her snout softly, Charlie smiled at her, calming her as the other witches and wizards came in. They strapped her into her saddle, then Charlie hopped on. "Detecto Giselle," he said distinctly, and the dragon glowed softly with a blue light. "Transpiro Giselle," Charlie added, popping another piece of gillyweed in his mouth. Giselle didn't need one. All dragons could breathe water to a certain extent, which was how many of them had hid from muggles over the centuries. The two exited out the chamber quickly, with Charlie softly tugging on the reins as he spit out yet another piece of gillyweed into his hand to use on the way back down.
Within seconds, Giselle had swam up to the surface and out of the water. Charlie gasped, trying as hard as he could not to scream with exhilaration. This was great, this was wonderful! He had loved flying on a broom, but this was so much more! Giselle responded just as well as his Nimbus did, it was like she was trying to react before he could tug on the reins. There was no way to describe the feeling he got riding Giselle that night.
After half an hour of flight, Charlie remembered that he had to go back down, below the waves. Putting the gillyweed back into his mouth, he guided Giselle back into the water. The shortsnout responded with only a huff at having to go back under the water into the pen she disliked. Still, she agreed, she relented, she dove down into the turbulent waters.
"How was it?" Max asked eagerly as Charlie hopped off Giselle's back.
Charlie just threw back his head and laughed, an optimistic glint in his blue eyes. "Wonderful! Absolutely wonderful!"
***
Charlie finally apparated back into the den at the Burrow nearly two hours later, only to have his mother staring at him, pointing at the clock, which would give away his location at all times. "Oh shit," Charlie muttered under his breath.
"Oh shit is right," Mrs. Weasley replied furiously.