I do not own Harry Potter. Charlotte Potter is my OC.
Lucky Break
Charlie jogged downstairs to see Petunia and Dudley standing by the door. She paused on the second-to-last step, watching in bemusement as Petunia adjusted Dudley's collar before standing straight as a rod, as if she were about to meet someone of great authority. She approached the door and opened it, where Marge wasted no time into barrelling inside, engulfing Petunia in a bear hug.
"Petunia, my dear, it's good to see you!" Marge said.
The moment she stepped away Petunia quickly smoothed out the creases that had been made on her floral sundress. "Lovely to see you, Marge."
Dudley's face was pinched as Marge descended upon him, but kept his mouth shut and his body stiff as she squeezed him. "Dudley, you handsome boy. You've grown so much since I've last seen you."
"Hello, Aunt Marge," said Dudley politely.
Marge turned around, grabbed two large suitcases from Vernon's hands, and flung them at the raven-haired girl. Charlie yelped and managed to catch them, but the force sent her reeling backwards. "Bring those to my room!" barked Marge.
Charlie staggered to her feet, ignoring Dudley's snickering, and went upstairs. There were two extra bedrooms in the Dursley household, a spare for when Marge came to visit and the other had been Dudley's second room until her aunt and uncle moved her into it. Charlie usually tried not to think about all the years she spent in the cupboard while two perfectly good rooms went to waste.
She supposed it made sense now why Petunia had been aggressively cleaning the guest room yesterday. The sheets were freshly washed and there wasn't a speck of dust on any surface. Charlie set the luggage on the floor near the end of the bed.
"Here we go," she muttered under her breath.
Charlie went to the kitchen, where Petunia already had tea prepared. Marge sent Charlie a narrow-eyed glower as she sat down. "I'm amazed that my brother still lets you stay here. He's got the heart of a saint, he does."
There was no way Charlie could respond to that with a straight face, so she kept her gaze on her teacup as she nodded.
"You should have been dropped off at an orphanage. But for reasons I can't begin to understand Vernon insisted on keeping you. You better be grateful, girl."
"I am."
Charlie had always wondered if nastiness was merely a fixture in Dursley DNA. Her entire life, whenever Marge came over, she never failed to remind Charlie what a burden she was on her brother and his family. Marge never met Charlie's parents. There's no way Petunia or Vernon would have ever introduced them, so the information Marge knew about James and Lily Potter was whatever her aunt and uncle had told them.
Which, of course, was nothing good.
"I hear you've been attending Elizabeth's Finishing School for Young Ladies," continued Marge. She gave Charlie a critical once over, taking in her slumped posture and her messy hair. "Doesn't seem like you learned a thing! You still look like someone off the streets."
"I suspect that's because my clothes don't quite fit," replied Charlie.
"You haven't learned any respect either," growled Marge. "How is the discipline at this school of yours? Do they use the cane?"
What is it with her and the cane?
It wasn't the first time Marge had brought it up and if there was one thing Charlie was truly grateful for it was that Vernon did not take any parenting advice from his sister. "Sometimes," she said, if only because she knew the answer would please her.
"Clearly not often enough," Marge harrumphed. "I would contact them if I were you, Vernon. If you want this girl to be molded into a respectable member of society, she's going to need harsh discipline. Mind you, I don't know if there's any hope left for her, but it wouldn't hurt to try. Miracles do occur."
Every time Marge came to visit, Charlie was reminded that it really wasn't all that bad living with her uncle.
Marge was far, far worse.
...
Marge was staying for a full week, and Charlie was beginning to lose her patience five days in.
She was there at every turn, demanding food or drinks or criticizing how she walked and how she spoke. Every time Charlie was in the same room all Marge would do was insult her and lament to Vernon and Petunia how hard it must be to raise her.
At least with her aunt and uncle there were periods of time where they ignored her. Marge wouldn't give her a break and her bulldog was driving her crazy. Twice had he managed to bite Charlie's ankles when she wasn't quick enough to get out of the way. When he was in a particularly foul mood he would snarl and chase her throughout the house until she managed to lock herself in her bedroom or escape outside.
Marge thought it was great fun.
On the fifth day she inched into the kitchen to help cook dinner. Ripper was resting on the floor in front of the backyard entrance and Charlie eyed him warily. Ripper growled, low and deep, but did not move a muscle.
Petunia had already laid out the ingredients for stew and Charlie began to put them together in a pot, following the recipe on the card propped against the toaster. Vernon, Marge, Petunia and Dudley were in the living room, watching television as the adults talked animatedly about the news that had been dominating the airwaves—apparently a prisoner named Sirius Black had escaped.
After an hour the food was finished and Charlie set the table. "It's ready!" she called.
Her relatives and Marge filed into the kitchen and Charlie waited until they had all piled food onto their dishes before she collected her share. Petunia poured brandy, which Vernon had bought that afternoon, into the wine glasses.
Marge downed it like it was water. The bottle was slowly draining with each refill Petunia gave Marge. The more she drank the louder her voice and the wilder her hand gestures. When it came time for dessert Petunia took the blueberry pie out of the fridge.
"Start with the dishes," she said to Charlie shortly.
"Yes, Aunt Petunia."
Charlie collected the dirty plates, bowls, utensils and cups and brought them over to the sink. She turned on the water and squirted lemon-scented dish soap around the stopper.
"Get me a soda!" demanded Dudley.
Taking orders from her aunt and uncle were one thing. Taking them from Dudley was another matter entirely—as in she refused to comply. She had to draw the line somewhere.
"The fridge is right there, Dudley," she answered.
"Don't you talk to Duddy like that!" snapped Marge. "You do what he says!"
"His legs are perfectly functional," said Charlie patiently. "If he wants a drink, he can get it himself. I'm not his maid."
"Rotten girl," hissed Marge. "Should have known nothing could be done to fix you into a proper young lady. Perhaps you shouldn't bother paying for finishing school, Vernon. Trash is born from trash, after all."
Charlie's hands stilled in the building water, bubbles coating her hands.
"Nothing against you, Petunia. You're a fine woman. There was something clearly wrong with that sister of yours. Galivanting off with a, who was he, Vernon, a magician? Not right in the head, she was. Seems such deficiencies can be passed down. It's a good thing Dudley comes from good stock. He has a future. Unlike that one. She's going to end up like her parents."
"Please stop," said Charlie softly, her hands starting to tremble with anger.
"Don't you tell me what to do, girl! You better learn to bear the truth. Your parents were useless. Worthless. That's why they died in a car crash—they had nothing to contribute to the world and the world decided to take them out."
Rage roared in Charlie's veins.
Marge suddenly stopped speaking. Her face contorted with confusion and then horror as her body began to swell. Marge blew up like a massive balloon, floating to the ceiling. Dudley screamed and sprinted out of the kitchen. Petunia began to shriek uncontrollably. Vernon leapt for his sister, trying to grasp an ankle, but Ripper got in his way and he tripped over the dog.
Charlie ran.
The cupboard door flew open when she reached it and she seized her trunk with one hand and her broomstick with the other. She dragged her trunk upstairs with ugly thudding sounds and burst into her bedroom. She flung an assortment of clothes and her textbooks into the trunk along with her letters and birthday presents.
There was no way she was sticking around for the fallout of this. It didn't matter that it was an accident. Vernon was going to have her head for this one.
She lugged the trunk back downstairs with her broomstick tucked under one arm. She found Dudley cowering in the living room doorway, staring at her in fear.
"There's nothing I can do to put her back to normal," said Charlie in a rush, grabbing the doorknob with one hand. "I didn't even mean to do it in the first place. Someone is going to be here soon to help, so unless you want Aunt Marge to stay a balloon forever, stop Uncle Vernon from chasing whoever shows up away."
She threw upon the door. "Sorry!" she hollered over her shoulder, though she was sure her apology was drowned out by their frantic screaming, and she hurried into the night.
She carried her trunk down the street and away from Privet Drive. She didn't stop until she was a few blocks away and she set her trunk against a lamppost. She dropped onto the lid and caught her breath, her heart still pounding in her chest.
Now what was she going to do? She was most definitely expelled now. She'd already received her only warning last year, when Dobby used the Levitation Charm to make a pudding drop onto her uncle's prospective clients. This was far worse, and to top it off, she had run away.
Though now she was properly thinking about it, that thought brought her some bit of comfort. Ruining a business proposition for her uncle was ten times worse than blowing up his sister, and he hadn't kicked her out or killed her.
But returning to Privet Drive did not seem like a bright idea at the moment.
Dobby could bring me to The Burrow. I'm sure they wouldn't mind. I could always send Dobby to them, to ask for permission.
She opened her mouth, her lips forming Dobby's name, and she paused when her eyes caught something moving across the street. She leaned forwards and squinted, watching the bushes of the neighbouring garden rustle.
She retrieved her wand from her trunk and got up, creeping slowly across the street. She froze when a pair of yellow eyes suddenly shone through the darkness, staring straight at her. It gave a low, prolonged growl and shifted—its back arched through the leaves, wide and massive.
Is that a wolf?!
Charlie frantically backtracked, keeping all of her attention on the creature in the bushes. Her heel smacked into the edge of the curb and she tripped, falling hard to the concrete. She hastily got to her knees, blindly thrusting out her wand arm, but she lost her grip and her wand clattered to the sidewalk.
The eyes were gone.
"What the heck—"
Her words were cut off with a surprised shriek as a giant purple vehicle came out of nowhere and screeched to a stop directly in front of her.
"Welcome to the Knight Bus!" a teenager greeted, standing on the steps and grinning at her. "Stick out your wand hand and we'll come for ya!"
Charlie picked up her wand and craned her neck, regarding the triple-decker bus with wide eyes. She had no idea what was going on, but she wasn't going to reject a miracle. "Uh…how much would a trip to London be?"
"Eleven Sickles."
Charlie opened the lid of her trunk and found her money pouch. It was leftover from her back to school shopping last year and relief flooded through her when she discovered she had enough to pay bus fare. She handed over the money and he helped her move her trunk onto the bus. Charlie clutched her broom and followed after him.
"Hello," the driver greeted.
"Hi."
The bus was full of beds. Candles were the source of lighting, nestled neatly in metal candle holders. The teenager was sticking her trunk under the bed closest to the front. "Never seen you 'ere before," he said. "I'm Stan Shunpike and the driver is Ernie Prang."
"Charlie," she replied. "Nice to meet you both."
"Have a seat, Charlie. Let's be off, Ern."
Charlie was flung back against her bed as the bus lurched forwards at a tremendous speed. She grabbed one of the bedposts to keep herself from tumbling about and dug her knees into the mattress. A newspaper flew down the aisle and hit her in the face. Charlie spluttered for a moment before yanking it off. The headline was large and glaring; BLACK STILL NOT FOUND
He was on the Muggle news.
Charlie frowned in confusion and read through the article. Sirius Black was an escaped convict from Azkaban, having been incarcerated for murdering thirteen people with a single curse. The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, was promising they were doing everything they could to bring Black to justice.
"Sirius Black—he killed all those people? Why?"
"Big supporter of You-Know-'Oo, he was," said Stan with a grave nod. "Went mental after 'e was defeated. Killed a wizard an' a whole lot o' Muggles in broad daylight. Caused a right mess. Black was laughin' when Aurors came to arrest 'im."
Charlie eyed the mug shot that was just below the article. I hope he stays far away from me. He probably doesn't have a high regard for the Girl-Who-Lived.
As Charlie was the last one to board the Knight Bus, she would be the last one to get off. When everyone else departed, Stan turned to her and asked where in London she wanted to go. She told him Diagon Alley, as it was really the only place she knew relatively well, and a few minutes later the bus pulled up outside the Leaky Cauldron.
She grabbed her trunk and broom and went down the steps. "Thank you," she said gratefully to Stan and Ernie. "Really."
"Charlotte!"
Charlie whirled around to see Fudge hurrying towards her. Stan peered at Charlie and he asked eagerly, "Charlotte Potter?"
Charlie gave a feeble smile. "That's me."
"Ern, Charlie Potter was on our bus!" said Stan excitedly. "Imagine that!"
Fudge grasped Charlie's shoulders and sent a curt nod towards the gaping pair on the bus. "Thank you for bringing her here safely. Come along, Charlotte, we really must have a chat."
"Bye!" Charlie called as Fudge urged her towards the pub. "Thanks so much for the ride! I appreciate it!"
"Bye, Charlie!" said Stan with a wave.
When Fudge entered the Leaky Cauldron with Charlie in tow Tom, the barkeeper, beamed with relief. "There she is!"
"Indeed. A private parlour, if you please Tom."
They entered a parlour which was stocked with warm tea and various pastries. Charlie peered out the window, spotting the first rays of morning light, and realized she had been on the Knight Bus for hours.
"I am Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic," Fudge introduced. He extended his hand and Charlie shook it.
"Hello, sir. It's nice to meet you." She eased into a chair and said nervously, "I suppose this is about my Aunt Marge."
"Ah, yes. Members of our Accidental Magic Reversal squad were dispatched several hours ago to put her back to normal and erase her memory of what occurred."
"Good," said Charlie sincerely. "Uh…my aunt and uncle…"
She trailed off, not quite knowing what to say, but Fudge understood. He cleared his throat and said, "Yes, well, they were quite furious, but they said you are allowed to come back next summer so long as you stay at Hogwarts for the holidays."
Which I always do, anyway. They should be cooled off by next year.
"I really am sorry," muttered Charlie, rubbing the back of her neck. "I didn't mean it."
"Think nothing of it. You can hardly control accidental magic."
"Does that mean I'm not expelled?" asked Charlie carefully.
"Not at all."
Charlie was bewildered. They didn't even know if the incident was a case of accidental magic. Was there even a way to tell the difference between the two? She didn't think so, since the Ministry had no idea that it was a house-elf's magic responsible for the Levitation Charm. But she wasn't going to argue the point. The night was, strangely, going rather well for her, all things considered.
Charlie picked at a muffin and said, "Minister—"
"Mr. Fudge, if you please, Charlotte."
"Mr. Fudge, I don't really have any place to stay. I'm not sure what my aunt and uncle said, but I know they're not going to let me back in the house until next summer."
Fudge coughed awkwardly. "Right. No need to worry about that. Tom has a spare room here for you that you can use for the next two weeks."
Charlie's brow furrowed. "How much would that cost?"
"Oh, it would be for free, of course."
"I couldn't do that," said Charlie, stricken.
"Tom's more than happy to provide you board for the rest of the summer. It works out for the best. Diagon Alley is always quite busy. Lots of people around. Yes, this is the best place for us to keep an eye on you."
"Okay." Curious, Charlie asked, "Is there any more news on Sirius Black?"
Fudge choked on his tea, and it took him a minute to recover. "No, no, not yet. He's still out there. But we're collecting new leads every day, so it's only a matter of time before we close in on him."
Tom returned a few minutes later and handed Charlie a key to her room. Fudge stood and shook her hand. "I'll let you turn in, Charlotte. I'm sure it's been an exciting night. I do ask that you stick to Diagon Alley and don't traverse around Muggle London."
"Okay."
"Be back to the Leaky Cauldron before dark."
"Er, yes, sir."
"Good girl. Have a good school year, Charlotte."
As he was about to leave the parlour Charlie was struck with an idea. "Mr. Fudge?"
"Yes?"
"My uncle never got the chance to sign my permission form. Third-years are allowed to go to Hogsmeade. I don't suppose you can sign it?"
"I'm afraid not," said Fudge quickly. "The rules state a guardian must be the one to sign. Perhaps next year, eh?"
In my dreams. "Yes, Mr. Fudge," she said instead.
Fudge bid goodbye and left. Tom collected her trunk and Charlie followed him to where she would be staying for the next two weeks. She thanked him and he closed the door behind him, leaving her to study her new quarters.
"Well, there's no bloodthirsty dogs here. Dobby!"
Her house-elf appeared before her and he peered around in confusion. "What is Charlotte Potter doing here?"
"I accidentally blew up my aunt. My relatives were furious and I didn't think it would be a good idea to stick around so I left. I accidentally summoned the Knight Bus and I asked it to bring me here."
"Miss is all right?" he asked anxiously.
"Perfectly fine," she assured him with a smile. "Could you please bring Snowy here?"
Dobby nodded and, in a flash, he was back with Snowy and her cat supplies. Charlie beamed and unlocked the carrier. Snowy purred in contentment as she curled around Charlie's legs before prowling off to explore the room.
"Thanks, Dobby. I appreciate you looking after her."
"Charlotte Potter is most welcome!"
He gave a bow and Disapparated. Charlie settled at the edge of the bed and Snowy hopped into her lap. Charlie scratched her behind the ears and said softly, "Nice setup, right?"
But even though the evening turned out far better than Charlie expected, there were still some thoughts that wouldn't stop swirling through her mind.
Why would the Minister of Magic be waiting for me at the Leaky Cauldron if he wasn't going to expel me? Why does he seem so worried about me wandering off?
Something didn't feel quite right. Charlie didn't like it when things didn't feel right. It usually meant trouble for her.
...
She managed to catch a few hours of sleep and woke midafternoon. She sat up with a yawn, stretching her arms over her head. It took a minute for her to remember that she was alone in Diagon Alley, and a grin stretched across her face.
Way better than staying at Privet Drive.
She climbed out of bed, got dressed and ran a hairbrush through her long raven hair. After getting a decent number of knots out, she shoved her feet into her only pair of sneakers and went down the long passage.
Since it was prime lunch hour, the pub was quite busy. Witches and wizards clustered together on stools and at tables, laughing and chatting. Charlie inched her way towards the bar, where Tom was making drinks and taking orders from his customers.
"Hi, Tom," she greeted.
"Ah, I was wondering if I'd be seeing you today."
"It was a late night," she said sheepishly.
"It certainly was. What are your plans?"
"I was thinking of going to Gringotts, and then just wander around Diagon Alley. Is that okay?"
"Of course," said Tom with a nod. "Remember to be back before dark."
"Sure thing. See you later!"
She went through the secret entrance and grinned as Diagon Alley appeared before her, bright and cheerful as always.
"This might just be the best summer ever."
She went to Gringotts to collect some money for her school supplies. She didn't have a plan after that and was happy to walk past the shops, occasionally popping in to explore items she had never seen before.
This was how she spent most of her days. Quite a bit of time was spent gawking at the newest broomstick on display at the Quality Quidditch Supplies shop. There was no price listed and Charlie figured that meant the Firebolt was very expensive.
There was an ice-cream shop in Diagon Alley, owned by Florean Fortescue. The first time Charlie approached him, her bangs had been blown to the side, revealing her scar. He insisted that she have her sundae free of charge, despite her attempts to pay him.
There were still essays she needed to finish, and Charlie found that the best spot to do homework was at one of Fortescue's tables. It was brighter than the dimly-lit pub and Fortescue enjoyed proofreading her essays.
Charlie kept her word and always made it back to the Leaky Cauldron before dark, where she would have a conversation about her day with Tom before retiring to her room.
It was the last day of summer holidays when she encountered her three best friends. She discovered Harry, Ron and Hermione waiting for her in the pub and Hermione squealed in excitement, hurrying to hug her.
"Charlie! How are you?"
"I'm good, thanks! How was your trip?"
"It was lovely. I have so much to tell you."
"But our summer holiday stories can wait. Come on, let's have it." Ron leaned forwards with a grin. "Tell us what happened to your aunt."
"I can't believe you blew up Petunia," said Harry with a snicker.
"It wasn't Aunt Petunia. It was Aunt Marge. She isn't technically my aunt, but they've made me call her that my whole life."
"What happened?" asked Hermione worriedly.
Charlie gave an embarrassed shrug. "She was saying horrible things about my parents. I got angry and she just…puffed up and floated to the ceiling. For some reason accidental magic always happens when I get angry. I don't know why."
"Your relatives must have freaked out," said Harry with a shudder.
"I'm surprised the neighbours didn't come investigate with all the screaming they were doing," muttered Charlie. "I ran off before they could get their hands on me. I accidentally summoned the Knight Bus and asked it to take me here. Minister Fudge was waiting for me, and told me to stay here for the remainder of the summer." Her brow furrowed. "I saw something really weird, just after I ran away from Privet Drive."
"How weird?" asked Ron warily.
"It was this big black…thing. It was too big to be a dog. I saw it in some bushes and it was staring at me. I tried putting some distance between us and I tripped. That's how I brought the Knight Bus to me. I flung my wand hand out, preparing to defend myself if it came closer, and dropped my wand when I fell."
"Wild," said Harry in awe.
"I'm just glad you're safe," said Hermione.
"How did you know what happened to me?" asked Charlie curiously.
"Dad found out what you did to your aunt when he went back to work at the Ministry. I sent Hermione and Harry an owl and let them know. We arranged to meet here today. I would have sent you a letter but, you know, you were going to be here anyway," explained Ron.
"Do you have your report card?" asked Hermione, practically bouncing with excitement.
"Yeah, it's in my trunk."
"It's basically all she could talk about on the way here," said Harry, rolling his eyes.
Hermione glared. "It was not."
Charlie laughed. "Come on."
They trooped upstairs and settled on Charlie's bed. Charlie collected her report card and Hermione pulled hers from her pocket. "Now," she said eagerly.
They all tore the envelopes open and removed the piece of parchment. To no one's surprise, Hermione received perfect grades.
Astronomy: O
Charms: O
Defense Against the Dark Arts: O
Herbology: O
History of Magic: O
Potions: O
Transfiguration: O
"I'm shocked," deadpanned Ron. "Really, I am."
"I'll go next," said Charlie with a laugh.
Astronomy: O
Charms: O
Defense Against the Dark Arts: O
Herbology: E
History of Magic: E
Potions: O
Transfiguration: O
"I'm very disappointed," said Harry with a mock-frown.
"If only I had Hermione's memory," said Charlie. "All right guys, let Hermione see if she succeeded in making you honorary Ravenclaws."
Harry glanced at Ron, who made a forward motion with his hand. "Go ahead, mate."
Astronomy: E
Charms: E
Defense Against the Dark Arts: O
Herbology: E
History of Magic: E
Potions: O
Transfiguration: O
"I did it," said Harry in shock.
"Well done!" Hermione cried. "I knew you could do it!"
Ron took a deep breath and held his out, fearful that his grades wouldn't be up to par with his friends.
Astronomy: O
Charms: T
Defense Against the Dark Arts: T
Herbology: E
History of Magic: E
Potions: O
Transfiguration: T
"No way," he breathed.
"All right, we did it!" cheered Harry, high-fiving him.
"Wouldn't have managed my Potions grade if you didn't let me borrow your wand for stirring," said Ron gratefully.
"No problem. Just had to time it when Snape wasn't looking at us," replied Harry.
"You'll do much better in the classes that require more wand work," assured Hermione. "You won't have a broken one this year."
"Do you think we could get that first?" asked Ron hopefully.
"Sure," said Charlie with a nod.
They left the Leaky Cauldron and entered Diagon Alley. They went to Ollivander's, where Ron got a brand-new wand—fourteen inches, willow with a unicorn hair as the core.
The next stop was Madam Malkin's for new robes, as Harry and Ron seemed to grow several inches each summer. Charlie was finally able to replace her old black robes with specialty Ravenclaw robes. Charlie had thought about buying a set last year when her friends were buying their House robes, but they had grown out of their first-year ones and Charlie's had still fit, and she was hesitant to replace them when they were still perfectly fine to wear.
Flourish and Blotts was next and Charlie watched with sympathy as the shopkeeper wrangled three monster books out of the wire cage that contained them. Ron held his out with disbelief. "Maybe taking Care of Magical Creatures was a bad idea."
"Can't pull out now," said Harry, shoving his into his bag. "How come you didn't get one?" he directed at Charlie.
"Hagrid sent me one for my birthday."
Harry frowned. "Why would Hagrid send you a textbook on your birthday?"
"He's going to be the teacher, isn't he?"
Ron's mouth dropped. "You're joking!"
"Well, it's the only reason I can think of. He said in his letter that he had a surprise for me this year and that the book was a hint."
"That's going to be one interesting class," said Harry with wide eyes.
Ron grinned broadly. "This is brilliant! If I'm late on an essay, he'll just give me an extension!"
"Of course that's the first thing you think of," said Charlie with a shake of her head.
They went to collect the rest of their textbooks. As Charlie, Ron and Harry were picking up their Divination book, Charlie spotted a book resting on a small display table. It was about death omens and on the cover was a big black dog—extraordinarily similar to the one she had seen last night.
Uh oh.
She backed away, a chill running down her spine. A hand fell on her shoulder and she jumped. "Whoa," said Harry in surprise. "Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you."
"It's okay," said Charlie quickly, grateful for the distraction.
"Ron found the textbook we need for Transfiguration."
"Okay, great."
When they had all their books gathered, they paid for them and huddled by the door to wait for Hermione. When the minutes went by and Hermione hadn't appeared, Harry asked in confusion, "Where is she?"
"There," said Ron, pointing towards one of the stacks. "What is she carrying?!"
Hermione darted out, a massive stack of books in her arms. She returned to her friends after paying for them, multiple bags hanging from her shoulders.
"Hermione, you're going to break your back," said Ron. The sheer number of books in her possession repulsed him and he shied away. "What are you doing?"
"I signed up for every elective," said Hermione. "So of course I need all sorts of books."
"That's impossible," said Harry flatly. "There's not enough time in the week to take all those classes."
"Sure there is," said Hermione simply.
She swept by them and left the store. The boys stared at Charlie, who shrugged. "Guess she's talking all the classes. Somehow."
They joined Hermione outside and Harry glanced at his watch. "We still have an hour before we have to meet up with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Where do you want to go next?"
"Can we go to Magical Menagerie? Scabbers hasn't been feeling well." Ron dug out a sickly-looking rat from his pocket. "He's been like this for days."
"I would like to get an animal this year, and I have some money left over," spoke Hermione
Charlie sent Hermione an amused look. "Your parents didn't let you get an animal first year because you were buying extra books. You're buying twice the amount of books this year and you're allowed to get a pet?"
Hermione smiled sheepishly. "I think they've given up, to be honest."
They went to the magical pet store and Ron promptly went up to the counter to get his rat looked over. Charlie stocked up on some cat supplies and Harry trailed after her as she moved through the store. "Have you slipped up yet?"
"Nearly," said Harry feelingly. "Though I manage to catch myself. I thought the summer was difficult but keeping it a secret this year is going to be even harder."
Charlie arched an eyebrow. "Why do you say that?"
"You'll find out on the train," said Harry mysteriously. "Thank you for the birthday gift, by the way. It's fascinating what weird creatures you Muggles have."
"What was your favourite?"
"The giraffe. They've got such long necks, and the spots are so cool."
A shout from the other end of the shop caught their attention. They hurried over to investigate and found an orange cat pawing at the gap between the floor and the front counter. Ron was kicking at it, trying to scare it off.
"Get away!" he roared. "Get away from my rat!"
A shopkeeper grabbed the cat around the middle and hauled it away. Ron flattened to the floor and took hold of Scabbers. He sent a furious glare at the cat before storming out of the shop. Harry and Charlie exchange a confused glance before following him.
"What was that about?" asked Harry.
"It came out nowhere! Scared the life out of Scabbers."
It was understandable that when a few minutes later Hermione came out of shop with the large orange cat in her arms, Ron was upset.
"Get that thing away from us!" he snapped, folding his hands protectively over Scabbers.
"He is not a thing," said Hermione indignantly. "His name is Crookshanks."
"What's wrong with you?" demanded Ron. "Didn't you see him go after Scabbers?"
When Hermione started to bristle Harry stepped between them. "Don't worry, Ron. You're in Gryffindor Tower. He'll be fine."
"I suppose," said Ron, relaxing slightly. "Just make sure you keep him locked up on the train."
"Fine," said Hermione with a sniff.
They had a bit of time remaining, so Charlie showed her friends the Firebolt, which Ron and Harry practically swooned over. They returned to the Leaky Cauldron and Tom led them to a parlour, where the Weasley family was gathered around a table.
"Charlotte!" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley, giving her a tight hug. "I was so worried when Arthur told me what happened! You shouldn't have run away!"
"I'm sorry," said Charlie.
Mrs. Weasley tucked Charlie's hair behind her ear, bringing it out of her face. "Well, it's done now and you're safe. That's what matters. Get yourself a plate, dear."
As they ate, Mr. Weasley informed them that the Ministry would be sending them a couple of cars to take them to King's Cross. Charlie tried asking why, for it was never something they had done before, but all Mr. Weasley said was that they were doing him a favour.
The rest of the evening passed with the exchanging of stories. The Weasleys shared their holiday antics in Egypt and Hermione revealed all that she had learned in France. Harry and Charlie contributed the least to the conversation, for their summers were rather boring in comparison, and Charlie only regaled them with the tale of Aunt Marge because the twins were persistent.
It came time for them all to head to bed. The Weasleys, along with Harry and Hermione, had all booked rooms so that the Ministry cars would only have to make one stop. Charlie made sure that she had everything packed and, as she set Snowy's cat carrier on top of her trunk, she realized her cat was not in the room.
"Like a phantom, she is," muttered Charlie.
She slipped out of the room and walked down the narrow passage in search for her cat. She paused when she heard voices arguing at the other end. She identified them as belonging to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and she started to backtrack, not wanting to interrupt their spat.
"—but Charlotte needs to know!"
Wait, what?
"Charlotte doesn't need to know anything!" Mrs. Weasley snapped. "I agree with Fudge; Charlotte should be kept in the dark about this. The truth would terrify her!"
"She needs to be prepared! I agree that she doesn't deserve to have this knowledge plaguing her while she's at Hogwarts, but it's for the best. They have a knack for getting into trouble, those four. The Philosopher's Stone, the Chamber of Secrets—no matter what they're told, they're always investigating something! They can't do that this year. I'm immensely grateful that she managed to summon the Knight Bus, however accidentally. She might have been dead otherwise."
Dead?!
"She's a clever girl," defended Mrs. Weasley. "You know she ran away because of those horrid relatives of hers. She wouldn't have wandered in the dark all night. I'm sure she would have asked Dobby to take her to The Burrow."
"Where she would have been alone, with only a house-elf to defend her. Dobby's magic is powerful, but Sirius Black is insane. He broke out of Azkaban days ago and there hasn't been a trace of him."
"She won't be alone at school! Dumbledore will protect her."
"I've no doubt he will. But Black is determined to kill her, Molly."
You gotta be kidding me.
"No one knows that for certain," insisted Mrs. Weasley.
"There were only two words Black was muttering before his escape; 'Hogwarts' and 'Potter'. When Charlotte defeated You-Know-Who, she took everything from Black. He was his number one supporter."
Mrs. Weasley was quiet for a moment. "Has Dumbledore done everything he can to protect Hogwarts?"
"He's allowed Azkaban guards to patrol the entrances to castle grounds. You know how he despises them. He's doing everything he can to ensure Charlotte's safety."
"I still don't think you should tell her," said Mrs. Weasley fiercely. "That girl has been through so much. Let her believe she's going to have a normal year."
Their voices started to sound closer and Charlie hastily ducked back into her room, shutting the door silently behind her. When she was certain they were gone she trudged to the parlour where they had eaten supper and found her cat curled up beneath one of the tables.
"Come on," she said wearily, scooping Snowy into her arms. "Time for bed."
Not that I'm going to be able to sleep now.
At least this revelation answered her questions. Fudge was waiting for her at the Leaky Cauldron because he wanted to make sure she was safe. He didn't expel her because if she was stuck at the Dursleys, she would most certainly be killed by this vengeful wizard convict. The Ministry cars were a security measure. Hogsmeade was out of the question, and not just because her aunt and uncle didn't sign it.
Can't I go one year without someone trying to kill me?