Here we go :)
Harry hadn't recognized his mother when she arrived to watch the remains of Number 4 Private Drive burn. She'd just look like one more face in the crowd, though he could tell her tears were more genuine than most. His father next to her had been equally unfamiliar, Harry hadn't seen either of them in years, not since he was a toddler. Milfa though, does know who they are and she carries Harry, who at 8 is almost her size, towards them in a hurry.
"Mr. Potter, Mrs. Potter..." The couple's eyes widen when they see them, the woman falling to her knees in front of him and basically ripping him out from Milfa's frail arms. Harry usually doesn't like people touching him, not when it never brought on anything good but a part of him hasn't entirely forgotten what a mother is like. He also knows, objectively, that he is Harry Potter, the son of Lily and James Potter who send him letters. Milfa had called them Mr. and Mrs. so it's not a leap to assume this must be his parents.
Harry's happy.
"Mom?"
"Oh, sweetie, baby, my baby... are you okay?" Her voice is soft and hurried and fearful, Harry's absolutely delighted. He throws his arms around her unabashedly. "Oh," she says sadly, "it's okay, Harry, you're okay." Harry dismissed the comment, he knows he's okay. Only the bad people were burning. He buries his head in her mother's shoulders, taking in her scent and the way her hair tickles his ears. She's absolutley beautiful, Harry couldn't have dreamt her if he wanted to. He laughs, loud and clear and childlike; in the voice of one wholly free and relieved. Her mother leans back to look at him but Harry doesn't want to let her go.
"Harry, son." James kneels next to them, and it's the voice of his father, of his dad that finally has Harry reemerging. He's smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. If he'd known this is what it'd take for his parents to come back, well, Harry wishes he could've burned down the house sooner! "What happened?" Behind them, Milfa is shuffling her feet, eyes trained on Harry.
"The house went boom!" He tells them. "But Milfa and I went POP!"
"Harry, there was an explosion?"
"Yes, yes, big! It was really hot but the we were outside and it was okay."
"Harry, do you know what caused the explosion?"
"Mr. Potter..." Milfa tries to cut in but she's too late. Harry's still grinning from ear to ear when he answers.
"I did."
Charlie can't tear away his eyes from the shaking form of his mother. They're both chilled to the bone, and despite the fact that he's returned first and that technically both him and Lily are okay he cannot stop looking at her pale face as she asks if he's okay. She could've died. His mom...!
Someone's wrapping another warm blanket around him and Charlie barely recognizes Hermione's face coming into his view, she's drenched too. How...? How could Charlie leave her behind? How...? He looks at Lily, but he knows he couldn't have carried both of them, it'd been hard enough as is... fighting the mermpeople was out of the question. He shakes off Lily's embrace and jumps his friend, a smattering of choked off apologies burying into her shoulder.
(Guilt eats away at him, because he would've let her die. He won't voice it out loud, he thinks most people wouldn't assume it, most would only see a tough choice and it all worked out in the end. But Charlie knows, he knows.)
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." He repeats, because, what would he do without her really? Hermione who knows all of his secrets, but perhaps, more importantly, the secrets Charlie keeps but does not own, inherited from cursed blood. Her palms are called where they brush his neck when she hugs him back.
"...It's okay, Charlie. I wasn't the bait for you."
"Charlie, you've had a right struck of luck in this tournament." Charlie knows Ron means well, he does, but so far, Charlie's been burned by dragon fire, had to rescued his kidnapped mother at the cost of his best friend and is still missing the hardest event. He's not feeling particularly lucky.
"I know it doesn't feel that way, but I think Ron has a point." It's been a couple days and apparenly the entire castle is over their excitement over the second task, Hermione included. (Charlie isn't though.) The trio of Gryffindors sit at the library table, guilt-tripped into starting homework early, accompanied by Neville. Charlie's childhood friend doesn't usually join them but it's a Saturday and he's free from assisting at the greenhouse. "You've been doing exceedingly well in challenges designed to test and fail wizards years above your skill level."
"Can you believe there was a teacher out to kill you?" The Hufflepuff whispers, briefly looking up from his reading.
"And he mysteriously shows up dead?" Hermione presses on.
"The twins were gossiping that Moody's imposter was murdered, grotesquely so." Ron comments.
"First, the letter warns you about the dragons, before Hagrid ever does. Without mentioning that the most dangerous dragon had to be changed because the Hungarian Horntail they brought was ill." Hermione lists. "Then, Cedric helps you with the egg -which could be a coincidence. Neville receives a book delivered to his dorm, which happens to have the perfect method to thrive in the second challenge. Someone's very invested in you winning this tournament." Her glance is meaningful.
The silence at the table is weighted, they all know what they're thinking.
"We don't think Hadrian had anything to do with all these happy coincidences... do we?" Neville ventures, finally closing down his book, dark blue cover face down on the wooden table.
"That slimy snake?" Ron shudders.
It's not that his name summons him, because Charlie's older brother has been sitting at the same corner of the library since before the younger students were. However, mention of him does make Charlie swivel his gaze without meaning to, it's not the first time he thinks that Harry is doing something, but then again, his brother always is, isn't he? His pranking has become more and more ridiculous through the years.
Last week he turned the moving staircases into waterfalls, clean spring water cascading down floor after floor of stairs. It had been particularly entertaining seeing it drench people at the base level when the stairways moved and broke the flow. (McGonagall had not found it funny. And Hadrian's Guess cats really don't like baths had earned him detention for almost the entire year -though Charlie doesn't think he understands why his teachers still bother. They cannot expel him though, not when they can never quiet prove it's him.
Charlie looks at his brother, tall and elegant and most definitely slytherin as he talks with Arcturus and Draco, and Charlie hates. Malfoy is always on and on hanging on to Hadrian, parading behind him with adoration in his eyes. Charlie's never understood Harry's unending patience when it comes to the blond ponce. Malfoy has tone down the racist rethoric, which serves as much-cherished prove that Harry -despite his house and his past- is not truly evil, not when Charlie keeps all his letters. He looks down at his ring, the purple stone on it seemingly thunderous from its black innards. His fingers are finally big enough for the ring to fit on his thumb, though he'd received the ring many years ago. He stands up.
"Charlie?" Hermione questions.
"Where you going mate?"
"I'm just... going to ask." He says, and he despises how he states it out loud, this is his brother, when did Charlie start being so hesitant around him?
"...rry, Snape's going to rip you a new one if you show to class unprepared again." It's Arcturus Black scolding Hadrian as Harry approaches the table hesitantly, Malfoy catches sight of him but seems to be more concerned on hiding his snickers.
"I think he'll probably will anyways..." His brother shrugs. "I think he's still upset about last week." Most likely referencing the waterfall incident.
"Or the week before that, or the time before that..." Draco trailes off amusedly. "I hear lots about your exploits over Christmas."
"Alleged, alleged exploits." Harry's smiling, but by now his green eyes are settled on Charlie, who's standing only a few feet away. "Little brother." He acknowledges, Draco's hacles rise at his side as Black looks on with mild interest.
"What do you want, Potter?" Malfoy demands, but does seem properly chastised as soon as Harry's whitering stare lands on him. He huffs, and crosses his arms, leaning back on the chair -but the brief flicker of true fear in his eyes is genuine. Not for the first time, nor the last he's sure, Charlie tries to figure out what the relationship between Draco and Harry is.
"Can I talk to you for a minute?" He gives the table a meaningful glance. "Alone." Harry rises, walking past him to a corner further away from them. There's a large window, and Harry sits by it as he settles to listen to Charlie.
"What is it little brother, I didn't know we were speaking." It's a soft gibe, and Charlie doesn't think his brother -who's always kept him mostly at arm's length means it, but the meaning of it isn't lost.
"Have you been secretly helping me in the tournament?" Charlie asks, because that's really all he wants to know. Harry's expression doesn't ripple, his eyes show no change as he say:
"Yes, obviously." The tone is neutral, too neutral.
"You have?!" Charlie says, shocked at the admission. He does think in the end the only person interested enough but also secretive enough to pull it off is Hadrian; he also thought his brother would never admit it.
"If you think so, maybe my support has been more meaningful than I thought." He's still serious, and unchanging. "I'll keep cheering on for you." Charlie wants to run with the admission, but there's something in the phrasing that strikes something odd in Charlie. Are they talking about the hints or just his brother generally being on his corner? Charlie knows some slytherins were trying to run his name through the mud for been the fourth champion and he knows the only reason it didn't happen is Harry.
(Any further displeasure or discussion is cleared up once an undercover Death Eater is found in school.)
"So, you've known about the tasks beforehand and given me hints." Charlie specifies, looking for the same candidness as before, if Harry's face was different, maybe he'd catch the lie. His brother smiles, a grin that is too many teeth and zero cheer.
"Oh, little brother, if I'd know that your task today was to rescue Lily Potter from the lake..." His green eyes narrow, as his gaze seems to look right through Charlie before refocusing on his face. Hate mars the usually lovely visage. "...I'd made sure she drowned at the bottom of that lake." The venom in the words cause him to take a step back, and it takes all of Charlie's willpower to remain firm and standing. He looks at his brother's face and he cannot help the fear that grips him. For himself, but for Harry too. His heart breaks a little, but he knows this situation has no winners. His mom would forever be a person Harry could not love.
But why did he have to say things like this? He knows it's selfish, but Charlie cannot imagine his life without Lily. He looks once more at his brother's face, and it makes Charlie sick but he doesn't think he's lying. His brother probably would've let Lily die if he'd had the passive opportunity. After all, Harry's killed before. Charlie sighs, there's his answer then. He nods to his brother, bids him a brief farewell wrapped up in a thank you and strolls back to his table. His head's already up in the clouds.
But if not Harry... who?