What was he supposed to do now? Pack up his bags and go back to Romania? Act like nothing had happened? Back there, with his peers and his dragons, nothing had. He'd warned them, sure, even gotten the permission to bring the dragons to the battle. But when it had happened it had been so fast, his father's Patronus appearing and then him Apparating as close to Hogwarts as he dared, as quickly as he did.

In a war like that, there wasn't always time to marshal the troops.

But still, as fast as he'd come, he'd been the last one to arrive. He'd hurried straight into battle, wondering how the rest of his family was, if they were even still alive. As he fought through the hexes and curses, he'd caught a glimpse of red hair here, a glimpse there. Ron had shot past him at one point with Hermione at his side. They didn't look like they were running away, but rather toward something. . .but there was no time to ask as Dolohov walked around the corner.

He saw his mother, once, hair tied back in a kerchief, skirts in one hand, dueling with a young Death Eater, a grimace on her face. Ginny had darted out of what looked like a solid wall, waved her hand merrily, and then headed toward the melee. He'd fought beside Bill when he finally found him, and could have sworn he'd seen Percy even.

But the fact remained that he was the last one—after Ginny, the baby, after the twins, after Mum, even after Ronnie. He was the last one.

And nobody had said a word to him. He was the forgotten Weasley, in a way, though most people wouldn't have thought it. He'd been prefect (but then, so had Bill, Percy, and Ron) and he'd been Quidditch captain. And now he lived in Romania, and people forgot to tell him that there was a war going on, and by the time he'd arrived his brother was dead.

So now what did he do? Did he go back to Romania, back to where things made sense and he had a job that he loved? That didn't seem right, somehow. But then again, what was he supposed to do here?

They walked away from the memorial service in pairs, Mum and Dad out front, followed by Bill and Fleur. Percy walked next to George, his arm around his younger brother's shoulders, followed by Ron and Hermione and Harry and Ginny. And then there was Charlie. Forgotten.

A few people waved to him as he walked out, reminding him that he wasn't invisible. Oliver Wood, with a bright smile on his face, pointing at the Puddlemere United logo on his jumper. Little Professor Flitwick, always his favorite teacher at Hogwarts. A trio of girls that he didn't think he'd ever seen in his life.

"Come on, Charlie," Ginny said impatiently. He took his eyes off the ground and looked to his family, all of whom were grasping one end of a tattered boot. "Portkey waits for no man."

"Coming," Charlie said, forcing a smile onto his face. He grasped part of the shoelace and in a spin, dip, and dive found himself standing in front of the Burrow again.

"Well," his mum said, briskly brushing her hands together. "I'd best be whipping up some lunch, then," and she toddled off to the kitchen.

"Excellent," Ron muttered under his breath, earning him a swift jab in the side by one of Hermione's pointy elbows. The two of them had disappeared a few days ago, leaving behind just a very vague note from Ron—sometimes about Australia and a man named Wendell—sending Molly into an absolute tizzy. They'd returned a few hours later, luckily—just an hour before she'd decided to call the Ministry of Magic and let them know that You-Know-Who must be back and that he'd kidnapped her youngest son.

"It's a beautiful day out," Harry said, a small smile dancing on his lips. Ginny looked up at him and matched the smile.

"Perfect day for Quidditch, wouldn't you say?" she asked innocently.

"Not the right number of people," George said quietly, and the mood deflated. He was right, after all. The Weasleys plus Potter had always worked perfectly before, with four people a side.

"Um. . .I. . .I could play," Hermione said softly. "I mean, if you need me to."

Ron turned to look at her incredulously. He snorted, but wisely kept his mouth shut.

"That would be great," Charlie said, rushing to fill the empty silence. He liked Hermione, and he'd love to see her become a Weasley by law some day, but sometimes he honestly thought Ronnie was out to sabotage himself. "Harry and I will seek, George and Percy beat, Ginny and Bill Chase, and we'll put Ron and Hermione on goal. How does that sound?"

Everyone agreed, and they split the teams up (making sure, of course, that Percy and Hermione were on different teams).

A slight pang burst through Charlie's chest as they took their positions on the field. He saw Percy across from him, holding awkwardly to the broom, a thoroughly uncomfortable look on his face. That should have been Fred. The thought flew through his mind, but he brushed it away. As they played, though, the though kept running through his head that he wouldn't be the forgotten Weasley anymore, and he hated himself for thinking it.

"Come on, Charlie," Ginny encouraged, flying low below him. "Get your head in the game! Harry's going to have that snitch before you even spot it if you keep going on like this!"

And then she was zipping off, a flurry of red hair. When had she grown up, he wondered.

There it was, gleaming out the corner of his eyes, a tiny, battered speck of gold. Harry must have seen it at the same time, for they were both zooming across the field together. It was closer, closer. . .he stretched out one hand, his fingers just brushing it. . .

And then there it was, in his hand, and he remembered once again why people had claimed he was one of the best Seekers ever. He had, after all, just beaten Harry Potter!

The entire family coasted to the ground, congratulating one another on a well-played game. Harry and Ginny stuck out tongues at one another, but other than that it was a flurry of hugs and congratulations as they trooped into the house.

Hermione, after giving Ron a gentle peck on the cheek, lagged behind. Surprised, Charlie glanced at her.

"Yes?" he asked. She squirmed almost uncomfortably, and Charlie felt another pang in his chest. It was hard, sometimes, to recognize how young the kids were. They really were just kids, they hadn't even left Hogwarts yet. They were hailed as heroes all of the time, faces in print, already going into history books, but as he looked down at her he saw a seventeen year old girl.

"I have a message for you from the Headmistress," Hermione said. She flushed a bit under his gaze. "All right, so it's not actually a message from the Headmistress, but I'm sure that it will be in a few days, and since I heard you speaking to your mother about returning to Romania I thought that I should tell you about it first and let you make the decision. It just seems as though, after everything, you would want to—"

She kept talking, but Charlie lost track of the conversation and just stared at her in amazement. He'd heard, of course, about the famous bickering matches between the girl and his brother, and how they could talk over one another and steamroll through. And Ronnie himself had mentioned how when she caught hold of an idea she ran with it until she'd sorted through every thought. But none of that had prepared him for this kind of rapid speaking.

"and Hagrid will be the Groundskeeper still, of course, but he'll also be taking over Filch's job, so of course he won't have time to teach Care of Magical Creatures, so Professor McGonagall was thinking about offering the position to you."

That part did catch his ear. And his feet, apparently, as he stopped dead in his tracks. Him? A Hogwarts professor? It was absurd. Weasley's were known for many things, but never especially for a love for academia (well, except for Percy, maybe, but sometimes you just couldn't count him.) And yet. . .Hogwarts, a chance to stay near the family, a job that maybe didn't involve quite as many trips to the hospital. It wasn't a bad idea.

"Thanks for telling me, Hermione," he said, clapping her on the shoulder. A small smile wound it's way across her face, and for a fleeting moment she looked pretty. Maybe that was what Ronnie found so appealing in her, Charlie thought. "That's definitely something for me to consider."

She nodded her head, and wandered into the house. Charlie took another moment, though, staring down at the lake, at the garden, at the Quidditch field. When he'd left the house, Ginny had been a baby, Ronnie not much older. Now they'd defeated the Dark Lord. He chuckled a little, letting it run into a full-bellied laugh.

Charlie Weasley walked into the Burrow, his shoulders still shaking. The echo of his laugh drifted through the garden to the lake, and rippled across the water. It was the first true laugh that the land had heard in a very long time.