.GOD! Hi, everyone! Are you all pissed off at me? Please don't be, it honestly wasn't my fault! I swear! Ok, so first the stupid website decided it wanted to make my life hell, so it wouldn't let me upload the freaking chapter. In my defense, I had this chapter ready a month ago, so blame ! Then my computer decided it would be great fun to crash. So then I had to get a new computer. Said new computer didn't have my chapters saved so I had to re-write this. Then I had to go deal with the rubbish (hehe like my British word?) that was keeping me from updating. But I'm back and you won't have to deal with waiting for a month ever again! (Hopefully).

I apologize in advance for any spelling, grammar, or punctuation mistakes in the next few chapters. I got a new keyboard and it's . . . newness is screwing up my typing.

Warning: there is some material in this chapter some may find twisted and/or sick

So without further ado . . . CHAPTER 15!

Harry Potter was lost.

He seemed to be in a small clearing . . . was he in the Forbidden Forest? The lush green foliage certainly reminded him of the forest that seemed to just love getting him into trouble. Between the acromantulas, thestrals, the Dark Lord himself and countless other less than pleasant creatures he'd met in there, it was amazing he didn't avoid the place like the plague. But I guess that's why I'm not a Hufflepuff, he thought to himself. He wasn't quite sure how he ended up there and he honestly didn't care to find out.

And then there was the fact that Charlie Weasley was sitting across from him.

He didn't look different in death. He was still broad-shouldered, flaming haired, and burned from his time working with dragons. He wore simple drab brown robes with patches sewn into them. He looked quite bored sitting there waiting for Harry to . . . to what?

"Charlie?" Harry asked cautiously.

Charlie grinned at him with a smile uncannily like the twins' and nodded. "Hey, Harry."

"But . . . you're dead."

"Yup, seems I am." Charlie grinned.

"But . . . then . . . . why are you here? Are you like a ghost?" it seemed unlikely. Harry had only known Charlie briefly, but he didn't seem the type to haunt Hogwarts.

"Oh God, no! I've moved on. Well, I will, but I want to tell you something first."

"What is it?" Harry asked, not sure if he wanted to know.

"You need to move on too." Charlie said simply.

"What?"

"You're going to beat yourself up about my death. Don't."

"But I killed you!" Harry was having trouble rounding in his emotions now. "I killed you." He whispered.

"Out of mercy, Harry. Not hatred. Not cold blood. Not pleasure. There is a difference, believe me. Voldemort would've forced you to torture me and the little girl. It was better for both of us." Charlie shrugged.

"But if I wasn't so stupid none of this would've happened! Voldemort wouldn't have lured me into the Ministry. Sirius wouldn't have come after me. He wouldn't be dead. Tonks wouldn't be at St. Mungo's right now. Voldemort wouldn't have figured out I was a horcrux. None of this wouldn't have happened if I wasn't such a complete bloody idiot."

"That's a lot of 'ifs' and 'if onlys' Harry. It happened. It's done. No one will know what would've happened if you hadn't gone to save Sirius. No use crying over spilled potions, mate." Charlie said, serious now.

"But . . ." Harry trailed off.

"If you want to make it up to me—make it up to Sirius—do the right thing."

"What?"

"In the end. When this war seems hopeless, do the right thing." Charlie said.

"What's the right thing?" Harry asked desperately.

"I think you know, Harry." Charlie answered.

"But I don't! I'm not sure what's right anymore, Charlie! That's the whole point! Is what Voldemort wants so wrong? He wants peace for the Wizarding World. He wants to not have to hide from muggles, to be respected. Is that really so wrong?"

"It's not always the things we strive for that are wrong, Harry. Sometimes it's the way we strive for them. Is it alright to kill thousands to save dozens?"

"No . . . but it's still wrong to just let those dozens die."

Charlie smiled at him. "You really are naïve aren't you?" he sighed. "Look Harry, when the time comes, just do the right thing, ok? You'll know what you need to do when the time comes."

He started walking toward the edge of the clearing. Harry, dumbfounded, watched as he disappeared into the trees.

"Oh, and one more thing Harry? If you even think about snogging my sister anytime in the near future, I will come back as a ghost and haunt you until you're driven mad and committed."

And with that Harry was left alone in the middle of the clearing with his jaw on the dry, dusty ground.

Harry opened his eyes to his bedroom at Grimmuald Place. Part of him hoped in vain that everything had been only a nightmare. That he hadn't killed Charlie. He still couldn't bring himself to feel remorse for Bellatrix. She'd killed too many innocents for him to regret killing her. But Charlie's death twisted his stomach and made him dread coming into contact with any of the Weasleys.

How could he face Mrs. Weasley—who treated him as her son—when he'd killed her son? How could he call Ron his best friend when he'd pointed his wand at Charlie and spoken the two words that had ended his life?

The doorbell rang downstairs.

He heard a door down the hall open and the soft padding of Mrs. Weasley as she went to answer the door. Curious, Harry slipped out of his room and followed her. Who would be ringing the doorbell?

All of the Order members could enter any time they liked. Muggles couldn't see 13 Grimmuald Place.

The assessment ran icy fingers down his spine.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had followed him out of their rooms, Gryffindor curiosity piqued. So they all heard the terrified scream as Mrs. Weasley opened the front door.

Harry stopped dead, letting the others pass him. They all reacted the same way Mrs. Weasley had. Ginny was sobbing into Mrs. Weasley's chest. Ron was white as a sheet. Silent tears ran down Hermione's face.

For the first time Harry James Potter wanted to run away. For the first time he wanted to turn around and run from something. And he did.

Because Charlie Weasley's corpse was lying on the front steps. And carved into the pale skin of his arm were the words

The first kill is always the hardest

So, yeah. I warned you. This story can be kind of sick. This is the worst it will get, so PLEASE don't flag me. I'm sorry—once again—for not updating in so long. Please review!

Ok, guys, I need your help again. Anyone with the least bit of ability to write a song for the Sorting Hat next chapter, please PM me! Seriously, I can't rhyme for some reason. I will give credit to whoever writes it by singing your praises and (extra bonus!) you'll get a sneak-peek at what's to come in the seventh horcrux! Nothing to revealing, just enough to write a song about.

And extra challenge! Anyone who can correctly guess my age gets a sneak peek of a major chapter that will be coming up! I've already told you I'm in high school, so please no "you're a twenty-four year old college writing student". I'm obviously somewhere between fourteen and eighteen years old.

And also, i feel insanely bad for not updating, so i'm releasing the first chapter of my new Harry Potter story, A Twist in Destiny, later today, hopefully. i can juggle both stories plus i'm really psyched for this story!

Thank you, and good night!