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

Until next time, AnimationNut out.

Peace!

Dawn of War

Crouched on her knees, the marble tiles digging through the material of her Ravenclaw robes and jeans, Charlie focussed on the wall before her. Her right hand moved in wide circular motion, warm water and suds dripping down her arms. The sleeves of her robes were rolled up to her elbows, trickles of water creating damp spots on her front. Slowly but surely, the defiant lettering was scrubbed away.

As she dunked her rag into her soap and water-filled cauldron, she thought that the process would be much easier if she used magic. But it was an idea she quickly dismissed, and she continued her manual labour. It helped her take her mind off Sirius, off her feelings of grief, helplessness and guilt.

The painted words she had slathered on the wall outside the Great Hall had been left to linger. No one had ever confronted her about it, but she suspected all the professors knew this was her doing. With the end of term just three days away, she decided it was time for her to clean up her mess. It was magical paint, and it would only go away if she was the one to do so. She didn't think the professors would mind too much, but Filch definitely wouldn't be happy, and she didn't need to add to his already substantial ire.

Pausing in her work, Charlie straightened and stretched her back and arms. Only multiple blue specks of her rebellious message remained. She gave a final swipe and grabbed her cauldron. She could hear laughs and cheerful chatter coming from the Great Hall, dinnertime in full swing.

She went over to the castle doors and nudged them open. She chucked the remaining water onto the lawn and backtracked into the Entrance Hall—where she came face-to-face with Dolores Umbridge.

Her appearance had not improved. Her hair was still sticking out wildly, an almost deranged sparkle behind her toad-like eyes. A large carpet bag was clutched to her chest and it was apparent that she was in the middle of fleeing when there was no one around to witness it.

For a moment, the two just stared at each other. Umbridge's lips curled in a vicious snarl, and she spat, "You."

It was spoken lowly, as to not attract any attention from the Great Hall. Charlie stared back evenly. "Me. Leaving so soon?"

Her words dripped with sarcasm, a hint of satisfaction behind them. The news had been released a day ago, declaring that Dolores Umbridge was being suspended and put under investigation over her actions at Hogwarts. The order had been decreed by Fudge himself, and whether or not it was influenced by Dumbledore, Charlie did not care. It was enough for her to start seeing the Minister in a positive light again.

With a wild look flaring in her eyes, Umbridge grabbed a fistful of Charlie's robes and leaned close, so they were nearly nose-to-nose. "You disgusting little half-blood. You may have ousted me from this castle and manipulated me, but we are not finished. I will not rest until you are rotting away in Azkaban, along with all the half-breeds that muck up this world. We. Are. Not. Finished."

Green eyes flashed with steel and a swell of revulsion and hatred coursed through Charlie. She may have succeeded in kicking Umbridge out of the castle, but the woman was right. They were nowhere close to being finished. "You're right," she agreed. "We're not. But I won't be the one wasting away in Azkaban—you will be."

The carpet bag fell to the floor as Umbridge retracted her hand for a strike. Charlie braced herself for the blow, but it was not her yelping in pain. It was Umbridge. Staring up with wide eyes, Charlie could only gape at Peeves, who hovered above the woman, a sack full of chalk in one hand and a walking stick in the other.

His beady eyes flashed with malice. "Umbridge on the loose!" he bellowed. "Nasty Toad Face threatening wee Potter!"

He slammed the walking stick over Umbridge's head, causing the woman to shriek and stumble backwards. She grabbed hold of her luggage and sped out the castle doors, Peeves on her tail. By this point students were pouring out into the Entrance Hall, speaking excitedly and whooping. The poltergeist chased Umbridge down the path, mercilessly whacking her alternately with his weapons of choice.

Flitwick was the first of the professors to reach the front of the crowd. His pale blue eyes immediately locked on his Eagle standing a few feet away from the castle doors. He noticed the way she gingerly rubbed her chest and he was by her side in an instant.

"Are you all right?" he demanded, examining her anxiously for any injuries, his blood boiling at how Umbridge continued to terrorize the young girl.

"Oh—yes, I'm fine," she said quickly, smoothing out the last of the wrinkles Umbridge had made. "She wanted to get one last strike in, I guess, but Peeves stopped her before she could."

Flitwick was grateful for Peeves' rare display of good timing, for he knew that if Umbridge had laid another hand on Charlie, no professor, especially Dumbledore, would be able to restrain themselves, and that would delve into consequences they did not need to face.

"Dinner is almost over," he spoke. "You ought to get something to eat."

"I'm not hungry," said Charlie honestly. At her Head of House's disapproving look, she added, "I'll have something tomorrow morning."

"You certainly will." Flitwick's stern gaze softened. "How are you?"

Charlie hesitated, suddenly unable to plaster on a smile and set his worries at ease. "Not so good," she admitted.

Flitwick clasped her hand. "If you need to speak, my door is always open."

"I know." A gratefulness she could not ever convey into words seized her heart and caused tears to clog her throat. "Thank you."

"Perhaps you should go to bed, get some rest. You'll be surprised at the wonders a good night's sleep can do."

Though Charlie doubted her ability to sleep through the panic and nightmares, she nodded. "Yeah. I will."

With a wave towards her Head of House, she began the trek towards Ravenclaw Tower. She listened to the whoops of her peers, the shrill shrieks of Umbridge trailing into the distance, and for the first time in days, a wide smile stretched across her face.

…

Clothes, books, school supplies and other miscellaneous items were strewn around Charlie as she took on the task of organizing her trunk. She was halfway through folding her clothes when a shadow loomed above her. Startled, for everyone was at the Leaving Feast, she glanced up to see her visitor.

"Professor Snape," she said, surprised.

"I retrieved one of your belongings from Umbridge's office. It would have been returned to you sooner, but the amount of magic guarding it was utterly ridiculous."

Green eyes brightened at the sight of her Firebolt, which Snape extended towards her. "Thank you!" she exclaimed, eagerly taking it into her clutch. She had not forgotten about it, but with all the chaos of the last week, she had not gotten the chance to get her broomstick herself. She had planned to do it after packing her trunk.

The sight of the girl sincerely happy after days of her wallowing in dark despair caused Snape some satisfaction. It was hindered by bitterness that the object of which caused her joy was one that was practically the symbol of Sirius' love for her.

"I expected you to be at the Leaving Feast."

"I had some packing to do," she replied, setting her broomstick on the top of her bed. "I also didn't really feel like being around so many people."

"…I am sorry about your godfather."

He could not bring himself to speak Sirius' name, the hatred and hostility still there even after the man's death. The things he, James and the other Marauders had done to him during his school years would never be forgotten. Charlie seemed to understand this, though she had no idea of just how deeply his anger was towards the Marauders, for reasons that he wished to go to his grave.

"Thank you," she said softly, "and also for alerting the Order when you did."

"I was merely relaying your message."

"How different things might have been, if I had waited around instead of running off."

A less-than-complementary remark about the similarities between her and James Potter rose on his tongue on instinct. He swallowed them back, a feat he never thought he would be capable of. "It was impulsive and reckless. But it was with good intentions."

Other than for fame and glory, which is certainly what Potter what have done it for, he thought derisively.

"Professor Dumbledore wanted me to learn Occlumency to defend myself against Vol—uh, You-Know-Who. But instead he used it to lure me into his clutches." A humourless smile crossed her lips. "I know everyone says it's not my fault that Sirius died. But how can I feel otherwise?"

For a brief instance, Snape was transported to the past, the grief-riddled memory of him cradling a dead Lily to his chest, as an infant Charlotte wailed in the crib near them. Gritting his teeth, Snape took a moment to banish the unwanted memory before answering in a controlled voice.

"What happened has happened. If you dwell on what could have been, you will never recover. You were a victim of manipulation. Learn from it, and continue on with your life. I am sure that is what…what Black would want."

It was somewhat satisfying at the thought of what Sirius Black would think of his archenemy comforting his goddaughter, and so it made dropping his name a little more bearable.

Charlie regarded Snape thoughtfully. "You speak as if you have experience."

She was certainly perceptive, having detected the weight with which the words were delivered. Snape kept his expression unreadable. "Simply advice, Miss Potter." Ironic advice, considering who was giving it.

"Thank you, I appreciate it," she said sincerely. She glanced at her broomstick, noting how Snape recognized its sentimental worth, and delivered it to her because of it. She knew it was difficult for him to speak of Sirius in a civil tone, and she was grateful for his effort. Nothing she could do would change Snape's opinion, and she suspected both her father and Sirius had gone to their graves with their own hatred of Snape.

"I hear you and Mr. Lupin were told the truth."

"Yes sir."

"Apparently, you've known since your second year…around the same time a vial of Leprechaun's Tears disappeared from my stock."

And that, thought Charlie, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly, is probably the moment where Dumbledore knew we knew.

"Sorry about that," she said apologetically. "It's just…we had these suspicions..."

"Your curiosity got the better of you," said Snape bluntly, "like a typical Ravenclaw. You realize the dangers of purposely causing a cauldron to explode?"

He has a nasty memory, thought Charlie nervously. "I know. I have no excuses."

If Snape had learned Charlie had been the culprit back in second year, she would have faced the full force of his wrath. But now, three years later, with his own opinion of the girl who displayed much of Lily's innate curiosity for the world around her, he only felt ire.

"You do not. You will reimburse me for the Leprechaun's Tears, and if you ever pull such a stunt in my classroom again, you will regret it. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," she answered promptly.

She was relieved that she would not have to endure hours of his hard-labour detentions. She already had enough familiarity with how they worked, and she was glad he no longer searched for every opportunity to send her to the dungeons for punishment.

"Good." Snape inclined his head sharply. "I will leave you to your packing."

He started to depart, and she called after him, "See you next term, Professor!"

Sweeping out of Ravenclaw Tower, an ominous cloud seemed to surround Snape. His lips tightened in a thin line, a cold, grave feeling a heavy weight in his gut. He did not know what brought on this sudden sense of foreboding, but it was difficult to shake. He had been in Voldemort's command long enough to ignore and mask his fear, his ill-feelings. But he sensed something was about to happen…something that would change everything.

He could not help but think of Charlotte Potter, the girl right in the middle of the rapidly brewing war. He cursed himself silently—he never once ever expected to feel concern for the girl, let alone start to grow an attachment to the child. It would have been so much easier to continue hating her, to project his hatred of James, and what Snape had lost, onto her.

But slowly, surely, something had shifted within him. Perhaps it had begun in her first year, when she thanked him for saving her life. He did not know, and did not dwell—thinking too much about such things when working for Voldemort, an exceptional Occlumens, was dire. But he knew that he had come to like the bright young girl, and was only further committed to fulfilling his promise to Lily.

A promise you made when you believed she had only one child.

Snape remembered the day Dumbledore revealed to him the existence of Harry Potter clearly. He had felt shock, then outrage. There were two descendants of his enemy's bloodline, two carbon-copies of James Potter. It was unbearable.

When the two arrived at Hogwarts, he knew he could not display such a level of hatred towards a boy who was supposed to be an average wizard. He focussed his disgust on the girl, who bore James' raven hair and sharp facial structure. It became easier to ignore Harry, whose appearance was Glamoured, and he looked nothing like James or Lily.

Snape learned, after a while, that Harry too was his own person. He was nowhere near as outspoken or fame-driven as his father, and he wasn't as gifted at school as his mother. He was quieter and had a reckless streak that he shared with his sister. They were Lily's children, and when he managed to realize that, a portion of his irrational hatred vanished, causing him to feel a little lighter.

He promised his first and only love that he would protect her children. While Harry was not a direct target of Voldemort, following his sister would put in him at risk. And if Voldemort ever found out about the secret Potter child…

Well, Snape did not want to begin to imagine the consequences—for all of them.

…

'Are you coming to the Leaving Feast?'

Harry's voice interjected her silent packing process. Charlie rummaged through a pile of odds and ends, searching for what she wanted to keep and what she needed to throw away.

'No. I don't really feel like it. Besides, I have to pack. How is it?'

'Food is great, as always.'

'Did Dumbledore give a speech?'

'Yeah. Said we should all be careful in where we go, and who we talk to. He said we should keep up with the news.'

'Hopefully people listen. How did your talk with him go?'

'Really well, actually. He knew more about me than I imagined. We talked for a long time. Though I don't know if I believe him when he says you're the oldest.'

'Believe it, bro.'

'Five minutes isn't significant anyway.'

'Says you. Is Snape going to be teaching you Occlumency?'

'Yeah.'

'He's a good teacher. If you practice your mental blocks over the summer, you'll get the knack of it in no time.'

'Easy for you to say. You're a genius when it comes to magic.'

Charlie gave a mental snort. 'Hardly. I'm just lucky.'

'Snape is probably going to take any chance to torture me.'

'Why do you say that?'

'He doesn't have to keep up the charade anymore. He knows I'm the son of James Potter. He hated Dad. Remember how he treated you in our first year?'

'Very clearly. But he stopped. I'm sure you'll be fine.'

'What do you think made him change?'

'I don't know. Maybe something to do with Mum. They were friends when they were in school. And then…'

'The Incident happened,' finished Harry. 'I guess that's why he's always angry…he blames Dad for making him lose Mum as a friend.'

'Yeah…something like that.' Charlie couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something about Snape that she felt she was missing…a key piece to what made him despise her father for the rest of his life, why his life seemed to be shrouded in secrets.

'Dumbledore thought our prank at the Yule Ball was brilliant, by the way.'

'It seems like the sort of thing he would find funny.'

'You sure you don't want to come to the feast?'

'Positive. Have fun. I'll see you later.'

'Okay.'

Her mind settled back into her own thoughts, and she continued her sorting. Her hand brushed against an unfamiliar item at the bottom of the pile and she pulled it out, curious. Her heart sunk to the bottom of her stomach and her face fell at the familiar brown package. Sirius had given it to her so long ago…and she'd been so preoccupied that she never opened it, eventually forgetting.

With trembling fingers, she tore off the paper. A small, square mirror streaked with dirt was revealed, her pale face staring back at her. She turned it around, spotting a note scrawled across the back.

This mirror has a partner. I've got it in my possession—it's a two-way mirror we can use to communicate. If you need me for anything, anything at all, just say my name. I don't care what time it is. I'll always be here for you.

Her hands fell into her lap, shock stunning her into a frozen state. All this time…all this time she had a secret way to contact Sirius. If she had known, opened the package when she first received it, she could have used the mirror to check on Sirius. Everything would have turned out different.

The tears spilled over, hot and fast, and she abruptly stood up, the mirror tumbling for her lap and to the floor. She rushed out of her dorm and out of Ravenclaw Tower.

In her blind stroll, she did not notice Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, until he spoke. "Late to the Leaving Feast as well, Charlotte?"

Startled, she stumbled to a halt as he appeared beside her, nearly tripping over her robes. "Oh, no, I'm not attending the feast. I just thought I'd take a walk."

Nick studied her, at the way she frantically scrubbed the tears from her face, his head wobbling on his partially severed neck. "It must be difficult for you."

He was not specific, yet his sympathetic statement applied to almost everything she was currently experiencing in her life right now. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she said with a weary smile, "Yeah. Peeves chasing Umbridge off of the property cheered me up some."

"I am sure he will be regaling the tale to anyone who asks—with some inappropriate language."

"I think everyone could use some cheering up right now. Anyway, I'd hate to keep you away from the feast."

"I have all the time in the world, my dear."

This caused Charlie some pause as a thought struck her. Suddenly feeling awkward, but unable to walk away without asking, she spoke. "Um…I don't suppose that it's possible…"

She trailed off, but Nick understood right away what she meant. "Wizards," he began slowly, "can choose to come back, as a shadow of themselves, if they so wish. But most choose to go on…and I am sure that is where Sirius Black is."

"I figured as much. But I couldn't help but wonder." Charlie crossed her arms over her chest, staring at the floor. "Where…where did Sirius go, after he died?"

"I am afraid I do not know," said Nick gently. "I was afraid of death, and chose this imitation of life instead. I sometimes wonder if I perhaps should have moved on…but that is of course irrelevant now. I know not the secrets of death. I wish I could be of more help to you."

"You helped plenty," assured Charlie sincerely. "I don't think the living are meant to know what happens after death, anyway. It's for the best, I'm sure. Thank you."

She waved him off, watching him disappear through a wall. She continued her stroll, happening upon the corridor where the Gryffindor Tower was housed. She paused upon spotting Luna, who was in the process of hanging something up on the board.

"Hello," the blonde greeted.

Charlie looked at the notice and frowned in disapproval. "Someone stole your stuff again?"

"It's a game people like to play at the end of every year," said Luna, unconcerned. "I don't mind, it's just that I would like to pack tonight."

The older Ravenclaws found it to be a funny pastime to take Luna's belongings and hide them around the castle. Charlie tried to dissuade the known culprits from doing so, but it never did any good. Luna never spoke to the Prefects, and everything was always returned to her eventually. Everyone thought the blonde was oblivious, which was not the truth—she was very much aware of people's thoughts and opinions of her, but simply did not care.

"Why aren't you at the feast with the others?" asked Luna.

"Didn't really feel like it," she repeated.

Luna glanced at her thoughtfully. "The man who died at the Ministry…he was your godfather, wasn't he? That's what Ginny said."

"Yeah. He was." Remembering that Luna could also see the Thestrals, she began hesitantly, "Have you ever…do you know anyone who has died?"

Not at all bothered by the personal question, Luna nodded. "My mother. She liked to experiment with spells and such, and I'm afraid one went wrong."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I have Dad, and I'll see Mum again." She smiled slightly. "The voices behind the veil, you know."

Charlie blinked in surprise, the archway appearing vividly in her mind, the one Sirius had fallen through. She too had heard the whispers. Maybe…just maybe…

"One day," she said softly. "Do you want me to help you find your things?"

"No, it's fine. I'll get them all back soon. I think I'm going to go have some pudding."

Saying goodbye, Charlie continued on her walk, her chest not so heavy. Wherever Sirius was, he was with her parents, and Angelina. That, she decided, was all she wanted. He would be eternally happy and one day, they would see each other again. All of them.

But right now, she needed to live. She had a lot she needed to do before she could even think about death.

…

The day had arrived, and the scarlet train carting the student population from Hogwarts to King's Cross was rumbling along the tracks. Stepping from the bathroom, Charlie walked down the train towards her compartment, only to be ambushed by an angry group of Slytherins.

"How long have you been waiting?" asked Charlie dryly, eyeing the wands aimed at her warily.

"I said I would get you, Potter," growled Draco, eyes flashing with malice.

"No teachers around to save you this time," hissed Pansy.

Draco, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle barely managed to lift their wands when the compartment door next to them slammed open. Ernie, Hannah, Susan, Justin, Terry and Anthony stormed out, wands in the air and shouting incantations. A mix of hexes and jinxes struck the four Slytherins, leaving them an oozing mess on the floor.

"Thanks guys," said Charlie gratefully, gingerly stepping over the slimy group. "A-plus."

"A-what?" asked Terry in confusion.

"It's—ah, never mind. Super good job. But what are we going to do with these guys?"

Ernie rubbed his hands together eagerly. "Oh, we'll take care of them."

"Right," said Charlie in bemusement. "Have a nice summer. Stay safe."

She continued her trek and entered her compartment when she reached it. Ron, Harry, Ginny, Neville, Hermione and Luna were eating from a pile of snacks on the table. Hedwig and Pig were hooting at each other from their cages, and Crookshanks and Snowflake were snug in their carriers. Charlie settled down beside Harry.

"Anything?" she asked Hermione, who was pouring through the newspaper.

"Nothing yet," she said grimly, rolling up the scroll. "But I suspect everything will start soon."

"Let's not think about that," spoke Ron. "Let's talk about something happy."

"Okay," said Ginny, staring at a Quidditch magazine. "I broke up with Michael Corner."

Ron brightened. "See, it worked! I'm happy already."

"Yeah, he's a sore loser. He threw a fit whenever I beat him at something. I'm going out with Dean Thomas now."

Ron's outburst at this brought many laughs and a great effort to calm him down. Much too soon did the train roll into King's Cross, and Charlie retrieved her trunk and cat, shuffling off of the train. When the ticket inspector sent her, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Harry through the magical barrier, Charlie's eyes widened at the group that was waiting for them.

Mad-Eye Moody, with a hat pulled over his magical eye and gnarled hands clutching a walking stick, stood rigidly. Tonks was dressed almost normal, the exception being her bubble-gum hair and T-shirt that advertised a band no one in the Muggle world would recognize. Remus, dressed in slacks and a long brown coat, smiled at the sight of them. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, along with Fred and George, waved at them.

When they reached the group, Mrs. Weasley pulled Ron and Ginny into a tight hug. Harry embraced Remus, getting a loving tousle of his hair in return. Charlie was brought into Mrs. Weasley's secure fold, the warmth washing over her.

"What are you all doing here?" she asked curiously.

"We thought we'd have a chat with your aunt and uncle," said Remus casually, wrapping an arm around Harry's shoulders.

Charlie immediately turned around, spotting her three relatives a distance away. They all looked appalled at the company she was keeping. "No, that's okay," she said quickly. "I don't think it would be a good idea."

"It's a great idea," said Moody curtly.

"No, no, no!" said Charlie frantically, putting out her hands. "Trust me, it's fine—"

But the anxiety in her eyes only served to strengthen their resolve. "Shush." Moody lightly hit her knee with his walking stick. "Are you ready, Arthur?"

"Yes, very much so."

The two lead the group over to the Dursleys. Charlie followed after nervously, knowing very well how her uncle would react to this little chat. She tried to sidle her way between her relatives and her friends, but a sharp glare from Moody caused her to stand in place.

"Hello," greeted Mr. Weasley. "You might not remember me. My name is Arthur Weasley."

Vernon's face turned a bright purple, which told Charlie that yes, he remembered the man who nearly demolished his living room.

"We want to speak with you about Charlotte."

"More importantly, about how you treat her," said Moody bluntly.

"It's no business of yours what goes on in my house," growled Vernon, chest puffing out.

"Actually, it's very much our business," said Tonks sharply. "So if we find out that you've been nasty to her—"

"—and we will find out if that's the case," interjected Remus.

"You'll answer to us," growled Moody. For added effect, he lifted up his hat and revealed his electric blue eye. "Got it?"

Vernon stumbled back, face rapidly turning white. Dudley tried to cower behind his mother, who looked on in pure horror.

"They got it," said Charlie hastily. "Thank you."

"If we don't hear from you three days in a row, we're coming to check on you," said Moody.

"Okay."

"Keep your head up, Charlotte," said Remus, pulling her in for a hug.

"We'll see each other again before you know it," said Harry earnestly.

"Yes, we'll have you out of there as soon as we can," promised Mrs. Weasley.

Ron hesitated for a brief second before embracing her. "Be careful, Charlie."

"Let us know if you need anything," insisted Hermione, hugging her next.

Trunk and carrier in hand, Charlie stared at the people gathered around her. The ones who loved her, supported her, and cared about her. They were on her side, and it meant more than she would ever be able to express.

Raising a hand in farewell, Charlie smiled and followed after her relatives. She suspected they would give her the furious silent treatment for a few days after this display, but they would get over it when they realized they had things they wanted her to do.

Outside, the sun was shining brightly. It indicated another hot summer was ahead, nothing more. The Muggles knew not of the magical shadows lurking in the corners. Something evil was coming, and they didn't have a clue—they weren't allowed to know, and perhaps that was for the best.

The Muggles were oblivious to the dawn of the Second Wizarding War. But they needn't worry. She would fight on their behalf; she would fight for them. She was raised a Muggle. She was being schooled as a witch. She would spend the rest of her life as both. Voldemort rejected his Muggle half—she embraced it.

And that made all the difference.