I do not own Harry Potter. Charlotte Potter is my OC.
Rescuing Mr. Weasley
Massaging her forehead, Charlie followed Flitwick down the corridor. Hermione had to stay behind with their confused dormmates, left to fret and wonder what exactly was going on. Charlie's mind was a whirl of frantic thoughts and a dull, throbbing pain. She was mixture of relief and anxiety when they reached the stone gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office. She was relieved to tell Dumbledore, for he certainly would be able to do something. But she was also anxious, because she didn't even know how to explain herself.
"Fizzing Whizzbee!" said Flitwick in a strong voice, and the gargoyle moved aside. The wall separated, revealing the moving stone staircase. They travelled upwards, right up to the heavy oak door. Flitwick rapped sharply on the wood and the door opened, granting them entry.
The office was in semi-darkness. The silver knick-knacks glinted in the dim lighting. Fawkes the phoenix was sleeping on his perch and the portraits of past Headmasters and headmistresses were snoozing in their frames.
"Professor Flitwick," greeted Dumbledore, the soft glow of the candlelight illuminating his beard. He wore a purple and gold robe over a nightshirt, but though it was well past midnight he did not seem sleepy in the slightest.
"Miss Potter has had…" Flitwick paused for a moment, seemingly struggling for a word. Charlie could not blame him, for even she didn't know what happened to her. "…a nightmare," he finally finished.
"Sort of," Charlie interjected quickly. "Not quite."
Dumbledore watched the way the girl rubbed at her forehead, almost subconsciously. Though she was attempting to remain calm, it was clear she was extremely troubled. Clearing his throat, Flitwick indicated for her to continue speaking.
"Okay, so I was sleeping, and I saw something, something real," spoke Charlie, slightly frustrated by the way Dumbledore refused to look her in the eyes. "Mr. Weasley just got attacked by a giant snake."
A silence followed her declaration, and Charlie managed not to grit her teeth together in frustration. Dumbledore tilted his head to look thoughtfully at the ceiling, fingertips pressed together. "And how did you see this?" he asked.
"I don't know." Charlie flapped her hands helplessly. "In my head, I guess. I saw it from the snake's point of view. Call it a vision or whatever you want, but I saw it!"
"Arthur is injured?"
"Extremely," stressed Charlie. "He's bleeding pretty badly."
Dumbledore turned to face a couple of portraits hanging on the wall. "Everard, Dilys!"
A wizard with short black bangs and a witch with long silver curls immediately sat up at attention, as if they were never asleep at all. "Yes?" the witch asked.
"Arthur Weasley has red hair and glasses. Everard, you need to raise the alarm, make sure he is located by the right people."
Both of them departed from their pictures, but did not emerge in the neighbouring frames. The other Headmasters and headmistresses continued to snore, but Charlie caught a few of them sneaking glances her way.
Not the first time I've been stared at, she thought, suddenly feeling very tired.
"They were very celebrated when they were the Heads of Hogwarts," spoke Dumbledore, standing up. He ushered Charlie and Flitwick over to where his phoenix was sleeping. "They are able to travel to their other portraits, which hang in other important wizarding institutions."
Charlie only nodded. She hoped they found Mr. Weasley soon. He did not have much time left.
"Professor Flitwick, why don't you conjure up some chairs?"
The tiny wizard complied, giving his wand a wave. Two wooden chairs popped up and Flitwick eased the girl into a seat, as she didn't seem inclined to do any more moving of her own accord. "Everything will be fine, Miss Potter," he said softly.
Charlie wished she could believe him, but her nerves were tightly bundled. She would not relax until she heard the news that Mr. Weasley was alive. Gripping her hands together, she shot a glance over her shoulder. Dumbledore was stroking Fawkes, who woke under the gentle touch. He muttered something, and the phoenix disappeared in a flash of fire. He picked up one of his silver instruments and set it on his desk. He gave it a tap with his wand and pale green smoke started to issue from the silver tube at the top. After a few tiny puffs, the smoke started to be more consistent. It curled in the air, soon taking the form of a serpent.
What the heck?
Dumbledore studied the smoke intently. "Of course…but divided in essence?"
The serpent split into two snakes then, and with a grim smile Dumbledore tapped the silver device with his wand and the smoke dissipated. Charlie couldn't make out the significance of what had just happened, but before she could ask Everard returned.
"I brought someone to him," he panted. "It took a bit of yelling, and they didn't quite believe me when I said I heard something moving downstairs, but they went to check anyway. They brought him up a few minutes later. He's bleeding heavily and he doesn't look good. I couldn't get downstairs, as you know, but I'm sure Dilys has seen something."
At that moment the witch returned. She collapsed into her armchair with a cough. "Yes, they've brought him to St. Mungo's," she informed.
Dumbledore nodded. "Thank you. Filius, alert Minerva and tell her to wake the Weasley children."
Flitwick nodded. "You'll have Molly taken care of, then?"
"Yes. But I suspect she already knows, with that marvelous clock of hers."
Charlie's heart fell as her Head of House departed. She could see the clock clearly in her mind, a clock that told not time but the whereabouts and conditions of the Weasley family members. Mr. Weasley's hand was no doubt pointed at 'mortal peril'. She remembered the Boggart that they had needed to get rid of late in the summer, a Boggart that turned into Mr. Weasley's dead body…
No no no no. She dug her nails into the back of her right hand. He can't die.
Dumbledore removed an old kettle from a cupboard and set it on his desk. He tapped it with his wand and muttered, "Portus!"
The kettle glowed blue for a brief moment before returning to its solid colour. Dumbledore went over to another portrait and called loudly, "Phineas!"
It took a few more calls, but eventually the wizard with a pointed beard woke up. "What?" he asked in annoyance. "I was sleeping, you know."
"My apologies," said Dumbledore easily. "But I need you to visit your other portrait again."
"I'm afraid I'm much too tired for that," said Phineas with a theatrical yawn. His eyes fell onto Charlie and he said, "Yes, much too tired."
Charlie tilted her head slightly to the side, brow furrowed. The voice sounded very familiar, but she couldn't place it.
"How dare you!" cried Armando Dippet, who Charlie recognized as the previous Headmaster of Hogwarts. "It is our duty to provide guidance and service to the current Head of Hogwarts!"
"I'll convince you!" threatened an old, haggard-looking witch, swinging her wand.
Phineas huffed. "Fine, then, if I must. Though I suspect he's probably set my portrait aflame by now."
"Sirius knows better," assured Dumbledore, and Charlie realized why his voice sounded familiar. She heard it once or twice, coming from the empty frame that hung in her bedroom at Grimmauld Place. "You will tell him that Arthur Weasley is injured, and that his wife, children and Charlotte Potter will be coming over shortly."
"Yes, I got it," said Phineas in a bored tone. He disappeared from his frame just as the office door opened and Ron, Ginny, Fred and George filed in with pale expressions. McGonagall was right behind them, and when she looked quizzically at Dumbledore, he gave his head a slight shake, indicating he would explain everything later.
Ron spotted Charlie and went straight to her side. "Charlie, what happened?" he asked, hands trembling. "Professor McGonagall says you saw Dad get hurt."
"Your father was injured while doing work for the Order," interjected Dumbledore. "He's been taken to St. Mungo's. You will all go to Sirius', which will provide easier transport to the hospital than The Burrow. Your mother will meet you there."
Fred swallowed thickly. "How will we be getting there, then?" he asked thickly.
"By Portkey. I'm afraid the Network is being watched, so it is not safe to travel by Floo powder. We are just waiting for Phineas Nigellus to report that the coast is clear."
A sudden burst of flame occurred in the middle of the room and a golden feather drifted to the floor. "That is the warning," said Dumbledore, picking it up. "Dolores Umbridge knows you are out of bed."
Wonderful, Charlie thought. That's the last thing I need.
"Minerva, if you would please go and head her off before she reaches here."
The Transfiguration professor was gone in an instant. Phineas reappeared a minute later, looking terribly bored. "He says its fine. Though I don't know why he'd be so happy about it. I never understood my great-great-grandson."
"Around the Portkey," Dumbledore instructed. The kids were quick to obey, standing before the kettle that sat on the desk. They each touched a part of it and Dumbledore counted down. "Three…two…one."
There was a brief second before Dumbledore said one where Charlie flicked her gaze up to him. Dumbledore's clear blue gaze met her green orbs and her forehead exploded in white-hot burning pain. She was overwhelmed by an emotion she rarely felt, a boiling hatred towards the man in front of her. She was filled with the desire to lunge at him, to sink her fangs into his neck.
There was a jerk behind her naval and the world swirled rapidly around her. It was seconds before they all crashed back to the ground. Charlie laid out on the floor, breathing heavily, frightened by the sensation before the Portkey she had experienced.
"Their blood-traitor father is dying, then?"
Vision blurred, Charlie lifted her head and squinted. She could make out Sirius furiously throwing Kreacher from the room, hollering, "Leave, you wretched thing!"
She sat up and slowly looked around. They had appeared in the basement kitchen. Sirius hurried over to them, and he extended a hand to help Ginny to her feet. "What's wrong?" he asked. "I heard Arthur is injured, but I don't know—"
"Charlotte knows," cut in Fred, getting up and looking at the raven-haired girl. "We'd like to hear what happened."
She was dimly aware of footsteps halting on the stairs near the door. She suspected Kreacher was lingering, listening. Taking a breath, she rose to her knees. "Yeah. I saw what happened. Through a vision, I guess."
She explained what happened to her as best she could, but she left out a few details. If she was freaked out by the fact she had seen everything as the snake, then she figured they wouldn't take that bit of information well.
"Mum here yet?" asked Fred, turning to look at Sirius.
He shook his head. "No. Dumbledore is probably telling her what happened now, actually. Our main priority was to get you here before Umbridge came across you."
"All right, can we head to St. Mungo's then?" asked George. He tugged at his pajamas, which is what all the kids were wearing. "You probably got cloaks or something we can wear, right?"
"Hold on, we can't go anywhere just yet."
"Why not?" Ginny's face fell.
"Well, it'd look rather odd if we showed up, knowing what happened to Arthur before his own wife."
"What does that matter?" demanded Fred.
"We can't let anyone know that Charlie's having visions of things happening hundreds of miles away," snapped Sirius. "Lord knows what the Ministry would do with that information."
"So we don't tell them what really happened! We make up a story!"
"Listen, your father was injured doing Order business. The circumstances are suspicious enough. We don't need to make things worse by barging there, only seconds after it happened—"
"We don't care!" hollered Fred, face red with anger. "He's our dad and we want to see him!"
"You wonder why you're not in the Order," said Sirius impatiently. "Can't understand why some things need to be done and won't do what we say. It's understood in the Order that some things are worth dying for."
"Oh, like you've really been sticking out your neck," snapped George. "Just lingering in the shadows, watching instead of doing. Like you can talk—"
A hand suddenly seized his wrist and he looked down in surprise. Charlie was still slumped on the floor, her face extremely pale and dark bags under her eyes. But when she looked up at him her expression was pleading, begging him not to fight. And George was flooded with guilt, having not even considered what the girl had to go through, what she had to experience, and the panic that must have gone through her as she attempted to alert someone to what had befallen their father.
"Sorry," he said softly. With a tug he lifted Charlie to her feet and eased her into a chair. "Sirius, do you have anything to drink?"
"Yes, of course," said Sirius quickly. Soon everyone had a glass of Butterbeer in front of them. Silence descended upon the kitchen then, as they all sipped at their drinks and stared at the tabletop. No one quite knew what to say, and decided that the only thing to do was to wait for news.
Charlie ignored her glass. She rubbed at her scar, which still stung sharply, staring blankly off into space. Her mind whirled, attempting to make sense of what had happened to her. For a short moment, she had been the snake. She had seen the world from the snake's eyes, she felt it when the fangs punctured Mr. Weasley's flesh.
Was I the one who attacked him?
Don't be stupid, her second inner-voice chided. You were sleeping in your bed. You were just…sharing the snake's mind for a minute.
That does not make me feel better.
And what was with the sudden desire to attack Dumbledore in his office? It didn't make any sense.
A burst of fire suddenly appeared midair, causing everyone to jump. A scroll fell to the table along with a single golden feather. Sirius immediately snatched the scroll and unrolled it. "It's your mother's handwriting—here."
George snagged it and read aloud, "Dad is alive, off to St. Mungo's now. Wait where you are, will send more news when I can." He set the parchment down and took a shaky breath. "That's good…Dad's alive."
Ron nodded; face still pale. Charlie bit her lip, feeling her gut twist with anxiety. She would not be completely set at ease until she got to see the man, and she knew that the Weasley children felt the same way.
It was going to be a long night.
…
At ten past five in the morning, Charlie was startled awake by a loud, "Mum!" She lifted her head and blinked wildly, clearing the haze from her vision. She could see Mrs. Weasley standing by the table. She was pale and tired, but she had a soft smile on her face.
"Dad's okay, then?" asked Ron.
"He's fine. Bill is with him now." Mrs. Weasley sunk into a kitchen chair. "We'll have to visit him in a little while."
The Weasley children sighed with relief. Joyful, Sirius tried calling Kreacher to start breakfast, but the house-elf didn't show up. Annoyed, Sirius began getting out eggs, bacon and bread, and Charlie quickly got up to help him. She took out the plates and utensils and set them on the table. The second they were out of her hands Mrs. Weasley pulled her into an embrace.
"I don't know what we would have done if you hadn't seen what you did," she said a choked voice. "Thanks to you, Arthur is fine and Dumbledore has been able to come up with a cover story. I can only imagine what would have happened otherwise."
Charlie managed a nod and a weak smile. Mrs. Weasley let go and went over to help Sirius with breakfast, and he assured her that it was perfectly fine for the kids to stay with him until Mr. Weasley was fit to leave the hospital, which meant that they might all be there for Christmas.
But the festive holiday at Sirius' was the last thing on Charlie's mind. She robotically set the table, her thoughts on the power of her vision. As much as she wanted to tell Sirius, she was rather hesitant to tell anyone what had really occurred.
Because she feared what it might mean.
…
It was that afternoon when Tonks and Moody arrived to escort them to St. Mungo's. Everyone had spent the morning napping, and though Charlie attempted to sleep every time she closed her eyes, she saw snakes.
As expected, there were questions about what she had seen, which she reluctantly answered. But the topic was eventually dropped when they set out to the Underground. As much as Sirius wanted to join them, he decided it would be best if he stayed at the house, in case there was any urgent news. They rode the underground train to the heart of London, and Moody kept Charlie directly in front of them as they travelled the busy sidewalks.
"Right here," the man suddenly muttered lowly into her ear. Charlie stared at the glass window where the others had stopped and were staring at a dummy. Tonks was speaking lowly to the dummy, and Charlie had to stop herself from gaping when the jointed fingers moved, beckoning them forth. Tonks, Mrs. Weasley and Ginny stepped through the glass first, followed by Ron and the twins. Moody gave Charlie a nudge and she obediently followed after her friends.
They appeared in a reception room, where witches and wizards sat in wooden chairs reading magazines. Many of them sported magical disfigurements like animal tails and ugly oozing scars. Witches and wizards in lime green robes carrying clipboards would speak to a person and make notes before moving on.
"Are those doctors?" she asked Ron.
He shook his head. "Nah, we don't have those. They're Healers."
"Over here," called Mrs. Weasley, and they joined her at a large desk labelled Enquiries. Behind the desk was a lovely portrait of a familiar witch. Charlie cocked her head to the side and squinted at the plaque below, which stated she was a St. Mungo's worker named Dilys Derwent. She caught her eye and Dilys winked before sidestepping out of the frame.
"Hello," said Mrs. Weasley when their turn approached. "I'm here to see my husband, Arthur Weasley. I think he was moved to a different ward—"
"First floor, second door on the right," the receptionist answered, looking briefly at her clipboard. "Dai Llewellyn Ward."
They set off through a set of double doors. The walls were lined with more portraits and even more workers in lime green robes flitted in and out of several rooms. They reached Mr. Weasley's room and Tonks said, "It ought to be just family first. I don't think Arthur will want too many visitors at once."
Moody gave a grunt of agreement and adjusted his bowler hat, which he had used to cover his magical eye around the Muggles. Charlie stepped back, but Mrs. Weasley took her arm and dragged her towards the room.
"Don't be silly, Charlotte, Arthur wants to see you most of all!"
They entered the ward, which housed three people. Mr. Weasley was in the bed closest to the window, reading the Daily Prophet. Once he spotted them, he beamed and set the newspaper aside. "Charlotte! Oh, Molly, Bill just left, he needed to get back to work."
Mrs. Weasley went over and gave him a kiss. "Are you all right, dear?"
"Yes, yes," he said cheerfully, hugging his daughter next. "Just fine. If I could just take these bandages off, I could go home."
"Why can't you?" asked Fred.
"They start bleeding like crazy every time they try," he replied. "But it's okay, they've said they've seen much worse cases than mine. Apparently, the snake has a poison in its fangs that keeps wounds open. They're working on an antidote, but for now I have to take a Blood-Replenishing Potion every hour." He gestured towards the sickly man lying in the bed next to him. "Better than him, poor chap. Got bitten by a werewolf."
Mrs. Weasley's eyes widened. "Is it safe?"
"Oh, the next full moon isn't for two weeks," said Mr. Weasley lowly. "Healers have been in and out to talk to him. I said that I know a werewolf who leads quite the normal life, but he's not quite in the mood to hear it yet."
"Are you gonna tell us what happened?" asked George.
"I think you've already heard it." Mr. Weasley smiled at Charlie. "I had a long day, fell asleep, and got ambushed."
"Is it in the Prophet?" Fred pointed at the newspaper.
Mr. Weasley shook his head. "Of course not. The Ministry wouldn't want anyone to know that a serpent almost got to—" Mrs. Weasley coughed sharply and Mr. Weasley immediately cut himself off. "Er—me. Got to me."
"You were guarding something, weren't you?" asked Fred softly.
"Fred!" snapped Mrs. Weasley.
"What is it?" he pressed. When he received no response from his father, he looked at Charlie. "You-Know-Who has a snake, doesn't he? You saw it when he came back?" Charlie went white, and Fred immediately regretted his words. "I'm sorry—"
"Out!" Mrs. Weasley bustled them towards the door, clearly fed up. "Fred, you leave poor Charlotte be! Send Tonks and Mad-Eye in here. They want to see you, Arthur."
The kids entered the corridor and sent the two adults inside. The door shut firmly behind them, but George removed an Extendable Ear from his pocket. "I don't think so," he muttered. "Come on, you lot."
Charlie hesitated as the others took an end, but George pushed it at her. "Come on, Charlotte, you have every right to eavesdrop. You saved Dad's life."
Caving, she accepted an end and stuck it in her ear. Fred ordered the flesh-coloured strings to wiggle underneath the door and soon they were privy to the conversation happening on the other side.
"…couldn't find any sign of the snake," Tonks was saying. "It seems to have just vanished. But You-Know-Who couldn't have expected a snake to get in, right?"
"Probably sent it as a lookout," muttered Moody. "He hasn't been having much luck so far. He's probably using the snake to get a clearer picture. If it weren't for Arthur, the snake would have had a lot more time to look around. Potter really saw it all happen?"
"Every bit," said Mrs. Weasley. "What unnerves me is that Dumbledore seems to have been expecting this to happen."
"Well, there's certainly something off about her," said Moody.
"But Dumbledore seems rather worried about her."
"Of course he is. From what I gather, she's seeing things through the eyes of his snake. There's every reason to worry if You-Know-Who is possessing her."
Charlie yanked out her Extendable Ear and stumbled back a few steps, heart pounding madly in her chest. Ginny, Ron and the twins stared at her with wide eyes and frightened expressions. Biting down on her bottom lip, Charlie slouched against the wall, resisting the urge to bury her head in her hands.
Now what am I supposed to do?