I do not own Harry Potter. Charlotte Potter is my OC.

Christmas at St. Mungo's

The trip back to Grimmauld Place seemed to drag on. Charlie held her hands tightly in her lap, thoughts whirling through her mind so fast she could barely process them. Every muscle in her body was tense, but she couldn't relax, not after the terrifying revelation that Voldemort might be possessing her.

This is not something fifteen-year-old girls should have to deal with, she thought bitterly.

"Charlotte?" Mrs. Weasley asked, concern on her features. "Are you okay?"

Charlie avoided the stares of the Weasley siblings and looked at Mrs. Weasley, managing to put a smile on her face. "Yeah, I'm fine."

But she was not convinced. "Are you sure? You look pale. Did you get much sleep this morning?"

"Not really," she answered honestly.

"Well, then you get to bed the minute we get home, and get some sleep before dinner. All right?"

"Okay," she agreed, though she knew that would not be possible. She did not speak another word, and when they got back to Grimmauld Place she went straight to her room, collapsing on the moth-eaten sheets.

Least I know why Dumbledore has been avoiding me recently. Probably doesn't know how to handle this particular situation.

But that didn't serve to make her feel better about Dumbledore's distant behaviour—in fact, it only made her more frustrated and annoyed towards the elderly wizard. She was seeing things through Voldemort's eyes, or he was purposefully putting them in her head. She didn't have a clue how this possession thing worked, and instead of helping her Dumbledore was leaving her to figure it out herself.

Groaning, she rolled over and gripped her pillow, pressing her face against the cool material. It couldn't have been her who attacked Mr. Weasley. Yes, she had been the snake. That she would admit to. But it hadn't been her…it had been Voldemort's snake who did the horrible deed. For some reason, she just got a front row viewing.

So if I can glimpse through the eyes of Voldemort, so to speak, then there's a good chance he can see through mine.

Her stomach twisted in a tight knot. She was living in a place secret to anyone outside of the Order, and she had eavesdropped and heard things she shouldn't have known in the first place. If Voldemort was possessing her, then there was no way she could stay at Grimmauld Place.

Well, then where would you go? Privet Drive?

She snorted. "Yeah, I'd like to see the expressions on the Dursleys' faces when I show up six months early," she grumbled to herself. "I don't think that would end well."

You can't exactly go back to Hogwarts. Not with Umbridge on the loose.

Charlie sighed in frustration. She had to go somewhere. She couldn't just stick around and put everyone in danger, when Voldemort could possess her at any given moment. She thought of the burning hatred she had experienced towards Dumbledore before transporting to Grimmauld Place. Those emotions had not been her own, that she knew now.

"Guess I'm heading back to Privet Drive," she muttered, reluctantly sitting up. She knew she would cause some worry by her disappearance, but it was for everyone's own good. There was nothing that would interest Voldemort at the Dursleys, besides her, and the wards would protect her from his wrath.

And if I happen to be the weapon he's planning on using then I need to get out of here. No way can I be at Hogwarts if he's planning to use me for some kind of attack.

She stood up and grabbed hold of her trunk. She would have to find a way to get out of the house without anyone noticing, but she should be fine once she was outside. No one would come to get her until dinner, so that gave her a couple of hours to make it back to Privet Drive.

Guess I should work on an argument to give to Uncle Vernon, she mused as she dragged her trunk towards the door. Aunt Petunia will give in if I get his approval, though I have no idea how I'm going to do that.

"Going somewhere?"

Startled, Charlie let go of her trunk and whirled around. She stared at Phineas Nigellus, who was peering at her from his frame. "Well, I was planning on it," she replied.

"I suppose it's a smart move, for a Ravenclaw, to save yourself over the others. Though it is a very Slytherin thing to do. You might have been a better fit for my House."

"The Sorting Hat thought as much," she said politely, ignoring the startled expression that crossed his face at the admission. "And I'm not saving myself. I'm saving everyone else."

"I've heard you have a habit of doing that," drawled Phineas, collecting himself. "Don't know if that's noble or foolish. Never mind that, however. I have a message from Albus Dumbledore."

Charlie's eyes widened with hope. "Really? What is it?"

"Do not leave."

Exasperated, Charlie flopped down on her trunk. "That's it? After all that, that's all he has to say to me?"

"Well, what did you expect him to say?" asked Phineas in amusement.

"I don't know! Something helpful, something reassuring, maybe?" Charlie dropped her chin into her hands, a scowl on her face. "When the Dementors attacked my cousin and I, all anyone had to tell me was to stay at the Dursleys. I've been through a heck of a lot. I can handle it!"

"Perhaps that is why Headmaster Dumbledore does not tell you every piece of his plans," said Phineas smoothly. "Because you have already been through so much, especially the events of last year."

She flinched. "Thanks, for the reminder. So that's it, then? I'm just supposed to stay here?"

"I believe that's what I said. Is something wrong with your hearing?"

"No," she said with a sigh. "I got it. Thanks."

Phineas departed, leaving behind an empty frame. Huffing, Charlie brought her trunk back to the foot of her bed and dropped down on her covers. Even now, Dumbledore refused to tell her anything, to even see her, when he knew what she was going through.

Fine, whatever, she thought bitterly. I can deal with it myself.

Though the only problem was she didn't exactly know how to deal with a crazed psychopath wizard who apparently had the ability to possess her.

Suddenly exhausted, she crawled under her blankets. The second she fell asleep, she immediately started to dream of the mysterious door, and her attempts to think of a way to open it was hindered by her prickling scar.

…

Mrs. Weasley looked up when Ginny entered the kitchen. Her brow furrowed in concern when she noticed Charlie did not follow behind. "Where's Charlotte?"

"She's sleeping," replied Ginny, settling in a seat beside Ron. "I tried to wake her up, but she's completely dead to the world."

"I don't blame her," said Sirius, a slight frown on his face. "The stress of what happened must have finally caught up to her."

"Poor thing." Mrs. Weasley stood up from the table and collected Charlie's empty plate. "I'll set some food aside in case she gets hungry later."

As she bustled around collecting food, Ron idly picked at his mashed potatoes. Fred stared at him with an arched eyebrow. "You, not shovelling food down? The world must be ending."

"Shut up. I'm worried."

"About what we heard?" asked George softly, casting a quick glance at the two adults. But they were too busy with their own conversation to pay attention to theirs.

Ron nodded. "I don't think Charlie is taking it well. She was really quiet on the way home."

"Well, how would you react after hearing something like that?" reasoned Fred. "She's a thinker, you know. That's why she's in Ravenclaw. She's going to think about it and then she'll think about it some more and then she'll fine."

"She's strong," added George. "She's going to be okay. She might just need a bit of space right now. She'll come to us when she's ready."

"If you say so," Ron said with a sigh.

"What are you lot talking about over there?" questioned Sirius.

"Nothing!" they chorused.

…

Charlie woke up the following morning. Though she was rested, she didn't feel much better. There was still a heavy weight at the bottom of her stomach. Sighing softly, she got out of bed and changed her clothes. She was just wrestling a green sweater over her head when Ginny appeared in the doorway.

"Hey," the redhead greeted with a smile.

"Hey." Charlie managed a smile in return. She pulled her raven hair into a ponytail and fastened it in place with an elastic. "Sorry about missing dinner. I guess I was pretty tired."

"It's okay. Mum has some breakfast waiting, if you're hungry." Ginny hesitated. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she replied instinctively. She paused and then admitted, "No, not really."

"If you're really worried about Voldemort possessing you, why don't you ask someone who knows firsthand what it's like?"

"Harry?" asked Charlie, her mind flashing back to the events of her second year.

"Yeah," encouraged Ginny. "I'm sure he won't mind if you ask, not if it's to help you."

"I suppose so," said Charlie with a nod. "I'll ask him. Thanks, Ginny."

"Anytime." Ginny stood up and hugged the raven-haired girl. "You can always talk to any of us. You know that, right?"

"Yeah." Charlie said with a sincere smile. "I do. Thanks."

"Let's go get some food before the boys eat it all up."

The two girls went downstairs and into the kitchen, where dishes of eggs, toast and bacon covered the wooden surface. "Charlie!" Sirius said happily. "Good to see you up. Come, have some eggs—guess what we're going to do today?"

"What?" Charlie asked, sitting beside her godfather. She piled some eggs onto her plate and grabbed the bottle of ketchup.

"We're going to decorate for Christmas!" said Sirius cheerfully. "I've dragged the decorations down from storage. They're a bit dusty, but they should do the trick."

After breakfast, they all took a box of decorations and went to spread holiday spirit throughout the gloomy dwellings. Charlie and Ron draped golden garland and silver tinsel in various places in the drawing room.

"Are you okay?" asked Ron, handing a clump of tinsel to his friend.

"Yeah, I'm feeling better. I talked with your sister, and she said I should talk to Harry about Voldemort possessing me."

After flinching at the sound of the Dark Lord's name, Ron smiled hopefully. "Yeah, he would know, wouldn't he?"

"He'll at least have some insight," replied Charlie.

The two had just finished decorating the drawing room when the doorbell rang. Mrs. Black started her usual screaming, but by now Charlie was used to it. She figured it was a member of Order stopping by, so both she and Ron were surprised when Hermione and Harry came into the room, faces pink with cold and snow in their hair.

"Charlie!" Harry exclaimed, hurrying forwards and embracing his sister.

"Harry!" She hugged him back tightly. "What are you guys doing here?"

"After what happened, I couldn't just go away for Christmas," explained Hermione. "My parents were disappointed, but I'll see them soon enough."

"Are you okay?" asked Harry anxiously. "You weren't answering any of my thoughts. Dumbledore told Hermione and I everything yesterday."

"But we had to wait for the term to actually end before coming here," added Hermione. "Umbridge is furious she let you all leave right under her nose."

"Did you really see Mr. Weasley get attacked?" asked Harry.

Charlie told them the story from her point of view, and also told them what she overheard with the Extendable Ears. Hermione's eyes were wide as saucers. "Possession?"

"Yeah. Harry, I was wondering...what was it like? To be possessed by Voldemort? You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"No, it's okay," assured Harry. "It's been three years, so I'm not horribly traumatized. Well, a lot of the time, there were big black spots in my memory. I'd be in one place and then in seemingly a second, I'd be in another, with absolutely no idea how I got there. Has that ever happened to you?"

Charlie shook her head. "No."

Harry mulled this over. "If that's the case, then maybe you're not really possessed by You-Know-Who. Somehow, you're just seeing what he sees."

Hope bubbled in Charlie's chest. "You think so? But Moody said—"

"I don't think he quite understands what really happened," spoke Hermione.

"That's fair. I don't even understand what's going on."

"So nothing is wrong?" asked Ron hopefully.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," said Charlie with a humourless smile. "Something is definitely up. I just don't know exactly what. On the bright side, I have a feeling Voldemort isn't aware of how strong our connection is. Here's hoping it stays that way."

"You've these kinds of dreams and visions before," said Hermione thoughtfully. "Maybe this one was just a particularly strong one."

Charlie shook her head. " This one was different. I've never seen events through Voldemort's vantage point before."

"What do we do?" Harry asked nervously.

"Not much we can do, is there?" Hermione reasoned. "We'll just have to be really careful, and you and Charlie have to watch when you use your telepathy."

"Can't have Voldemort finding out about that," muttered Charlie.

"Oi, you lot!" Sirius called, pausing in the doorway with a giant box in his arms. "You can help me with the tree!"

"What tree?" asked Charlie in confusion.

"The one Mundungus got us! He brought it over a little while ago. I think you were sleeping."

"How'd he get it?" asked Ron curiously.

Sirius gave him a pointed look. "Don't ask questions. Are you gonna help or not?"

Exchanging glances, the four shrugged and followed after Sirius. As she trailed after her friends down the hall, Charlie felt a warm feeling well in her stomach.

It was hard to feel down when you were surrounded by friends, family, and an abundance of Christmas spirit.

…

Christmas morning arrived, and Charlie and Hermione awoke in great spirits. A large pile of presents was stacked at the end of their beds, and they didn't waste much time in tearing into their packages. Charlie was amused by the homework planner Hermione had gotten her—it shouted warnings every time she flipped a page.

Remus had gotten her the complete set of Practical Defensive Magic and its Use Against the Dark Arts. She flipped through the first volume, watching the coloured illustrations move with awe. They would be a great asset in helping out with the DA. Hagrid and Tonks had gotten her a few small gifts, and Ron and Harry had given her large boxes of candy. She also received her annual Weasley knitted jumper and even Dobby had gotten her a notebook, and he painted the Ravenclaw crest on the cover.

She beamed when she opened Sirius' gift—it was a beautiful watch with a gold face and her name engraved on the leather strap. "Sirius asked me what to get you," spoke Hermione. "I mentioned you were always relying on me to tell you the time outside of the dorm and common room."

"It's perfect," said Charlie brightly.

Crack! Crack!

The two girls yelped as Fred and George Apparated into their bedroom. Scowling, Hermione grabbed her pillow and chucked it at George, who was the closest to her. "I thought we talked about this!"

George grinned. "Maybe we did. But we probably didn't listen."

"We came to suggest that you don't go downstairs for a while," informed Fred. "Percy sent back his Christmas jumper, without a note or anything."

"Ooh." Charlie winced.

"Lupin's comforting Mum, so we should be able to go to breakfast soon," added George.

"Well, in that case, get out so we can get dressed," huffed Hermione.

Laughing, the twins departed to bother Ron and Harry. Charlie got dressed in a long turquoise sweater, a pair of dark jeans and her black sneakers.

Hermione removed a package from out under her bed. Charlie eyed it. "What's that?"

"A gift for Kreacher," she said cheerfully.

"Oh. Uh…"

"It's not clothes," she assured. "Just a quilt. I thought he could use one."

"Okay," said Charlie, not seeing a problem with giving the house-elf a quilt. "I'll come with you."

The two girls went down the stairs, where they met Ron and Harry. "Thanks for the Broom Compass," said Ron with a happy smile. "It's excellent!"

"And thanks for the homework planner," said Harry to Hermione. "It, uh, it's going to be quite the motivator."

"Where you going?" asked Ron.

"Hermione has a present for Kreacher. It's a quilt."

"Ah," said Ron, managing not to roll his eyes.

"Where is he, anyway?" wondered Harry.

"In his bedroom, I suspect. Well, it's more of a den—Sirius says he likes to sleep under the boiler, which is in the cupboard off the kitchen," said Charlie.

They went into the basement and to an old, rusted door that was opposite the pantry. Hermione rapped her knuckles against the wood, and when there was no answer, opened it. Ron peered inside and arched an eyebrow. "Kinda cramped, isn't it?"

"And stinky," added Harry, wrinkling his nose.

In the small space underneath the pipes were a collection of ratted rags and blankets, arranged in the form of a nest. Old pieces of food littered the outside of Kreacher's sleeping space, and in the corner glinted the gold and silver pieces of Black family heirlooms the house-elf managed to save.

"He's probably sneaking around somewhere," said Ron dismissively. "Just leave it here."

Hermione set the quilt in the middle of the nest and shut the door just as Sirius walked into the kitchen, carrying a bag full of food. "Sirius, have you seen Kreacher?" asked Harry.

Sirius furrowed his brow. "Actually, I haven't seen him around lately."

"I think the last time I saw him was when we came back, and you kicked him out of the kitchen," said Charlie slowly. "You don't think he took that order as a chance to leave, did you?"

Sirius shook his head. "A house-elf can only leave their family's house if they are given clothes."

"But Dobby left the Malfoys' in order to try and keep me away from Hogwarts," spoke Charlie.

Her godfather looked perturbed for a minute before smiling easily. "I'm sure he's just sulking around somewhere. Come on, you lot can help me with Christmas lunch."

…

After lunch, they all went to pay a visit to Mr. Weasley at St. Mungo's. They were escorted by Moody and Remus, and transported by Mundungus, who managed to get his hands on a car. He magically altered it so that all ten could pile in. He dropped them off just outside the window that served as the entrance to the hospital before driving around the corner to wait.

This time the reception area was very festive, decked out with gold, silver, green and red garland and holly. Large Christmas baubles hung from the ceiling, glittering and glinting. There were even magical icicles that shone in the light.

They entered Mr. Weasley's room, and he smiled when he saw them, though he looked slightly nervous. "Hello, all! So nice to see you!"

"How are you, Dad?" asked Fred as they handed over their presents.

"Oh, fine. I don't suppose you've seen Healer Smythe around?"

Mrs. Weasley frowned. "No, we haven't. Why do you ask?"

"No reason. Just wondering," he said quickly.

But Mrs. Weasley had noticed the change of bandages and immediate got suspicious. When it was revealed that her husband and a Trainee Healer had attempted a Muggle medical practice, stitches, her face turned red and everyone rushed for cover, not wanting to be around to witness the explosion.

"So…a cup of tea, anyone?" asked Charlie as she and her best friends walked down the corridor.

"Sounds good," said Harry. "Maybe I'll bring something back for Uncle Remus."

They climbed a few flights of stairs and stumbled out onto a landing. "What floor is this?" panted Ron.

"Four, I think," said Hermione. She squinted at the sign over the start of the corridor, which read Spell Damage. "Yes, one more to go."

But before they could continue on, a familiar figure with wavy blonde hair and bright blue eyes stepped out from one of the rooms. He looked up and stopped in surprise, shock filling his features. "Children?" he asked incredulously.

"Professor Lockhart?" they exclaimed.

The man they once knew as their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor laughed. "Dear heavens, I haven't been 'Professor' in ages. Call me Gilderoy."

"Oh, um, okay, Gilderoy," said Hermione with a slight blush. Ron exchanged glances with Charlie and rolled his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"I decided to become a volunteer here," explained Lockhart.

"Oh! That's very nice." Hermione smiled brightly. "I've been wondering why you haven't come out with any new books lately. You must be working very hard here!"

Lockhart shot a look towards the only two people who knew the truth behind his previous fame. Charlie grinned sincerely at him. "I think volunteering is a much better fit for you, Gilderoy."

The last time Lockhart had seen Charlotte Potter was just after she had slayed the Basilisk, and given him a telling-off that, despite coming from a small twelve-year-old, was unnerving. "Yes, well, I decided I've had enough fame for now. Thought it might be good to offer my services to those who are in need of it most."

"Do you work in this ward?" asked Charlie curiously.

"Most of the time, yes. I thought…I thought it would be fitting."

Charlie read between the lines—it was how he thought he could redeem himself from using the Memory Charm on innocent and unsuspecting wizards and witches so he could steal their life stories as his own. "I think it's great," she said softly.

Three years have passed, and the haunted glaze still glimmered in those bright green eyes. Lockhart realized then that there was a reason the four Hogwarts students were at St. Mungo's. "Is everything all right?" he asked carefully.

"My dad had a bit of an accident," said Ron dismissively. "We're here to visit him, but we thought we'd take a bit of a walk. He's gonna be fine, though. Just recovering."

"That's good to hear. Right now, I'm off to the long-term residence ward to deliver some packages. Would you like to come with me?"

"Sure," agreed Charlie, and the four followed the man down the corridor. They reached another ward and entered a room, which had a few people inside.

"This is where those with permanent spell damage reside," explained Lockhart. "With some intensive potions and charms, sometimes we can get make improvements." He went over to the bedside of a furry-faced woman. "Hello, Agnes! I have some Christmas presents for you."

Agnes barked when he handed them over. Lockhart then went over to the bedside of man. "Broderick, a plant has come in for you!" He set it on the table beside the bed and turned to the teens. "He's regaining some of his speech, which is good, but we can't understand a word he's saying. Oh, hello, Mrs. Longbottom. Are you leaving already?"

Eyes wide, Charlie turned to see two people walking down the aisle. A curtain at the end of the ward had been pulled back, revealing two beds. An elderly witch in a long dress strode purposefully along, and trailing behind her was a depressed-looking Neville.

Oh...uh-oh.

Ron spotted his fellow Gryffindor and brightened. "Hey, Neville!" he called, waving. Neville's head snapped up and he paled considerably. "Happy Christmas!

"You must be Neville's friends," the woman said, coming towards them. "Yes, of course I know who you are," she directed at Charlie, extending her hand.

Charlie gripped it firmly and shook it. "It's nice to meet you."

"And you must be a Weasley," she continued, turning to Ron, who flushed.

"Ron," he muttered.

"And you two must be Harry Lupin and Hermione Granger." Mrs. Longbottom held out her hand to Harry and Hermione, who shook it in turn. "Yes, Neville has spoken very much of each of you."

Neville's face turned a dull purple and he stared at the floor.

"What are you doing here, Neville?" asked Ron curiously.

Charlie winced. Tact, Ron. One day, I shall teach you about tact.

Mrs. Longbottom looked sharply at Neville. "Have you not told your friends about your parents?"

Lips trembling, Neville shook his head. Mrs. Longbottom straightened and tilted her head upwards. "You shouldn't be ashamed, Neville, you should be proud!"

"I am," muttered Neville, unable to look up.

She turned to look at the teens with an animated expression. "My son and his wife, they were tortured to insanity by You-Know-Who's followers."

Hermione's eyes widened in horror. Ron turned red and he looked mortified at having asked. Harry turned white and looked at his friend. Charlie rubbed the back of her neck, feeling extremely sorry for Neville.

"They were skilled Aurors, well admired in the community—what is it, Alice dear?"

Neville's mother came shuffling up to her son. She extended her arm and handed over a sweet wrapper. Neville took a firm hold of it and whispered, "Thanks, Mum."

"Very nice, Alice," said Mrs. Longbottom, looking slightly exasperated.

Humming softly, Alice wandered back to her bed. Charlie felt her stomach sink, sudden sadness welling up within her. She remembered the picture Moody had given her, and how alive and happy Neville's parents had looked. Now here they were, unable to live a proper life with their son, because of their sacrifice to save their son from a future with Voldemort.

And now he's back.

"Come, Neville, we must be going." She inclined her head towards the teens. "It was very nice to meet you."

"You, too," they chorused.

"Throw that wrapper out as we go, Neville. You must have hundreds of them by now."

But as they walked out, Charlie noticed Neville slip the wrapper into his pocket. She glanced up at Lockhart, who was looking solemn. "Did you know?"

"You learn things, when you work here," he replied. "I was as surprised as anyone to learn that they were Mr. Longbottom's parents."

"You knew, didn't you?" asked Hermione, rubbing the tears from her eyes and looking at Charlie.

"Yeah." Charlie nodded glumly. "Um…some stuff happened last year and I didn't think it was my place to tell."

"That's rough," muttered Ron.

"Come now, we can't be sad on Christmas," said Lockhart, regaining his cheer. "I have break now, so why don't you lot have lunch with me?"

The four agreed, and after casting one last look at Neville's parents, Charlie hurried after her friends.