Chapter Nine: The Tale of the Dark Mark
"Keep an eye out for Zolnerowich. If he does come back to The Crossed Fangs tonight, we need to know why."
Mr Tomov looked back at Charlie over his shoulder, narrowing his bushy eyebrows at the ginger man while he wrapped his thick fur-lined cloak tightly around his shoulders. At a glance, one wouldn't think that a middle-aged, portly, and balding warlock would be intimidating until one remembered that it was Simeon Slovensky behind the fire in his eyes.
"I do not know vhat you expect," a gruff grunt came from Mr Tomov as he crossed to his closet and selected a fur cap to cover his bald head. "He is probably like many men in politics and meeting his mistress."
"Which is why your mistress is going to be there," his friend stated plainly, patting him on the shoulder.
Charlie wandered back over to the vanity and grabbed the clipboard that Abby had long been the keeper of. Double-checking his information and scheduling, he informed his roommate to be downstairs in ten and went to check on Mr Tomov's other half: his much-talked of mistress, Anya.
Walking out of the dressing room and ducking the demon knocker, he walked back into the Order's conference room where Bella was seated across from a dark-haired woman who had her back to Charlie. With photographs and papers spread out in a fan around the table Bella looked meticulously at the notes and then back to the woman every few seconds, inspecting every inch for a miscalculation in her appearance.
"Is Madam Romanova ready for her debut?" asked Charlie.
"As ready as we can get her," Bella replied, gathering all the papers into a pile as she stood from her place.
The dark-haired woman turned in his direction and stood, giving him a view of her newly transformed figure. Charlie's eyes went straight to her almond-shaped black orbs, noticing the finest wrinkles in the corners that gave away the age she was hiding beneath a layer of foundation and powder. A stern expression was on her thin painted red lips, giving the air that she was not impressed by present company. While dressed inconspicuously in simple black dress robes, the fabric looked to be of fine quality and design as it hung delicately from her frame.
"How do you feel?" Charlie asked, approaching the older woman and looking down into her dark eyes.
"All right," Anya answered with a distinctive Russian accent through her stern lips. "A bit nervous, but all right."
"Deep breaths," he advised as he leaned in closer. "You'll be great."
The door to the dressing room opened again to allow Mr Tomov through, the goblin ornament disappearing with the door as it slammed shut behind him. He rested his decorative walking stick on Charlie's shoulder, ushering the boy aside to let him see the woman that he was supposed to be having a torrid love affair with behind his sickly wife's back. His beady eyes ran up and down Anya, taking her in for the first time and nodding his approval.
"Moya ledi," he said in flawless Russian as he tipped his fur hat to her.
"Stanislav," she greeted, bowing her head in return and extending a hand for her lover to lay his lips upon.
The bottom of Charlie's stomach began to churn furiously, twisting and knotting itself about as though a small creature was learning to tie its shoes on his intestines. However, it was not an unfamiliar sensation. It had struck him many times before when he'd watched the bartender of The Crossed Fangs flirt shamelessly with Svetlana. While he was aware it was an act that had to be performed, it didn't stop the green-eyed monster within from growling for it to end.
"You two should head down," Charlie interrupted the pleasantries by taking both the spies by the shoulder and directing them to the corridor exit. "Mikhail has the car ready by now. He'll be going along as added safety. Remember, look for Zolnerowich."
"All right," nodded Anya as Mr Tomov went ahead into the corridor. She paused at the threshold, bringing up her small white hand to touch his freckled cheek. "Sleep vell."
"Stay safe." His hand met hers upon his cheek, gently clasping over it. Despite the spells that had changed her appearance and aged her skin twenty years, her hands were still familiar: Healer's hands.
With a sigh she took back her hand and hurried down the corridor after her benefactor, gently weaving her arm into his before they disappeared around the corner of the hallway. From the door frame he could hear them testing the multi-language charm and carry on a polite conversation in Romanian, but as they went further from earshot the voices faded into a murmur.
"And now begins our waiting game," Bella said as she crept up next to Charlie, crossing her arms over the chest. "Like a slow Cruciatus Curse."
"Well, I've got Bill to distract me at the least," he reasoned, removing himself from the door frame to toss the clipboard onto the empty conference table. "We're going down to the nearby lake to camp for the night. You'd be welcome to join us if you like."
"No, it sounds like a brotherly bonding experience," she said with a small tight smile. "I think I'll go down to the lounge and find something to occupy my time. Perhaps I'll write to Seth and see how he's doing in Australia."
"You should tell him about our Fireball problem here," suggested Charlie, thinking about his dreaded upcoming Monday shift in their area of the enclosure during feeding. "Maybe he'd have some id..."
He stopped mid-sentence as he turned around and realised that Bella had soundlessly left the room, leaving him to talk dragons to empty chairs and bare walls. Grabbing the thick jacket and small black backpack on the nearest chair he walked out the door, letting the heavy wooden barrier shut behind him as the inlaid phoenix symbol ceased its circular flight and lay still in waiting for someone to return.
"…and they called it U-No-Poo: the Constipation Sensation That's Gripping the Nation!"
Howls of laughter echoed through the dense forest grounds, vibrating off the trunks of trees and spooking all the nearby wildlife from approaching the blue-hued light coming from the edge of the small lake. Night normally brought about a serene tranquillity to the woods around the dragon sanctuary with an occasional grumbling or roar from within the distant enclosures, but it had not accounted for the long awaited reunion of two brothers mixed with bottles of Firewhisky and several untold anecdotes of their lives that could not be communicated on parchment.
"Count on Fred and George to turn You-Know-Who into toilet humour," Charlie spit out between the guffaws and snorts. He took a few deep breaths to give his abdomen muscles a moment to relax, but it was of very little use as Bill's own squeal of delighted humour had him starting again.
The hot blue campfire crackled between the two merry men, the intense heat it expelled negating the need for the fleecy blankets they had brought on their autumn night excursion. Reclined in a conjured fabric folding chair by the light of the bright flames, the long-haired Weasley flicked his wand lazily to his bag of supplies. From within, another full bottle of clear beverage shot out and landed in the hand of the one who summoned it.
"Another round!" the Gringotts employee shouted happily as he pulled at the stubborn cork. "Courtesy of my wonderful future in-laws, the finest Firewhisky in France's wine country!"
"What has come over you, Billiam Weasley?" his brother asked as his fits of laughter finally subsided into simple snippets of snickers. "Last time someone got you Firewhisky, you put a sticking charm on the bottle so none of us could take it from your cold drunk hands."
Bill shrugged his shoulders as the cork came unstuck, allowing him to pour his little brother another drink. "Perhaps I feel generous tonight?"
A fresh glass of clear liquid found its way into Charlie's hand quickly, the Weasleys toasting with a clink before tasting their drinks and allowing the slow burning sensation to heat their bodies from within. Together they slumped back into their seats, reclining so they could observe the beautiful serenity of the night.
"You know Ginny's got herself a boyfriend at Hogwarts."
"What?" sputtered the younger Weasley, bolting as upright as he could in his flexible chair. He stared right at the messenger of the family news with his brown eyes as large as a house elf's. "Our little sister? She's only thirteen, what is she doing having a boyfriend at her age?"
"Well, Ginny's fifteen now to start," laughed Bill. "According to her friend Hermione, he's a nice fellow from Gryffindor and quite a gentleman. She kept it a secret from the lot of us for a while, but she seems happy and that's what matters."
A low guttural grunt of acceptance escaped Charlie's lips as he slumped back into his chair. It had been a few years since he'd last physically laid eyes upon his little sister, the first female born to the family in generations, and he thought of her as still being a sweet third-year student who could barely talk to her brother's best friend. Clearly a lot had happened since he'd last been home two years ago.
"Don't know why she felt compelled to keep that a secret for so long," continued the older brother as he sipped from his Firewhisky, cringing as it slid down his oesophagus like a live flame. "I mean, keeping big news from the family must have been difficult. She was so relieved once we all knew…"
Bill trailed off in his thought, looking at Charlie who reciprocated his brother's glares with his own. "What are you getting at here?"
The long-haired redhead sighed, looking down at his glass of clear liquid as though to question his need for another shot of alcoholic courage before saying what he needed to say. "I know you've been hiding something, Charles Septimus Weasley."
A curse escaped from beneath the dragon keeper's breath as he turned away from his brother and focused on the stars above their campsite. His glass of Firewhisky tilted against his lips and allowed the burning liquid to cascade into his stomach. It cast his entire body into a strong tingling warmth, but could not erase the declaration he had just heard from his brother's mouth.
"I know you were in the infirmary for two months…and before I imagine the worst possible things, I thought you might save me the agony."
"It's in the past," Charlie stated plainly keeping his eyes on the constellation of Draco, the dragon. "All you really need to know is that I'm better now and it isn't really worth discussion."
"Again with the chivalrous words instead of answering the question," snorted Bill. "Classic Charlie."
"Why do you feel the need to know this?" he yelled, his voice echoing across the vast space of the lake. He bolted up from his chair, starting for the pitched tent behind them before turning around and marching back to look his brother straight in the eye. "You think you need to know everything about me, but I'm a grown man of age and I don't need to let my big brother know about every little detail of my life. It is over. I am clearly fine. Why do you need to know?"
Bill paused for a moment, continuing to sit in his chair as he looked at his brother through the escaped strands of his loose ponytail. He gave a small smile looking up at the furious redhead standing before him. "Because you've always told me. Even if you didn't want Mum and Dad to know…you always told me everything since you were five and didn't sleep for three weeks."
"What?" came out of Charlie's mouth before he'd realised it. "I don't remember that!"
"You were five," reminded the elder Weasley. "And to top that off you were exhausted. It's no surprise to me if you can't remember that time."
The dragon keeper returned to his seat, settling back before the blue-hued campfire. Smoke from the cerulean flames cast a haze between the brothers, partially obscuring them from each other, though it seemed oddly fitting for the passing moment between them.
"Enlighten me," whispered Charlie as the bottle of Firewhisky flew across the campsite and poured him another drink.
Bill took a deep breath, leaning forward onto his knees. "It happened after we saw the Dark Mark at Grandma and Grandpa Prewett's."
The image of the fluorescent green skull and twisting snake instantly flashed through Charlie's mind. He had seen the iconic symbol of You-Know-Who many times before: in several Defence Against the Dark Arts textbooks, in written recollections of those who had survived Death Eater attacks and most recently at the Quidditch World Cup two years ago. Every witch and wizard in their world feared the very idea of seeing the symbol floating in the sky and Charlie had seen it with his own eyes twice in his life. In his mind's memory the skeleton head seemed to laugh at the spectators below, taunting them to dare approach and view the horrors it left behind.
"I didn't make the connection then," continued the older brother as he shook his head, "but there was so much happening. Mum was hysterical. Dad was trying to calm her. Percy started fussing. We didn't notice that you'd wandered off to the house…before the Ministry had cleared the scene. An Auror found you in the hallway and brought you back…shaken."
While the image of the Dark Mark was vividly clear and perfectly preserved in memory, what Bill had vaguely described didn't register in his memory. Charlie could remember the sight of the ghostly skeleton and snake, followed by his mother's desperate scream, but nothing past that. It occurred after only a second that the gap in his recollection might have been purposeful on behalf of his brain.
"Fred and George were born less than a week later, and we were all so wrapped up in grief still. We didn't really notice you being unusually quiet. And then one night you came bursting into my room crying that I was still alive, that you'd thought I'd been killed by the skeleton and snake like Grandma and Grandpa and Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon. You said you saw the Dark Mark whenever your eyes closed, so you had kept them open for as long as you could."
Images from his more recent insomniac hallucinations flashed in Charlie's head: the pervasive thoughts of his family members in agony at the hands of You-Know-Who while he was powerless to prevent it. The knowledge that he'd had these fears before made sense; he'd already lost grandparents and uncles beneath the haunting Dark Mark. His five year old self and twenty-four year old self didn't seem so different in that moment.
"You slept after that night," Bill continued to explain. "I told Dad what you told me. I think that's when he stuck those stars to the ceiling of your bedroom…to show you that there was no Dark Mark outside the Burrow and that we were safe."
A memory of young Arthur Weasley, with one of the infant twins in a hand and a wand in the other, came to mind. The star stickers were charmed to move about the ceiling of his second son's room and show the constellations as they changed over the year. As little Charlie lay in bed tucked beneath the sheets his father had gently assured him that as long as he was around no one would hurt his family again. The love in his smile had made the young boy believe and helped his eyes close to darkness instead of the dreaded green skull.
"What happened that made you stay in the infirmary for two months?" his older brother asked again over Charlie's sudden quietness.
Beneath the real night sky of stars, the dragon keeper kept silent. The sound of the crackling fire filled the space between the Weasleys, but the smoky haze had dissipated and left a clear line of sight across the campfire. With a quick glance down at his glass, he locked his brown eyes against Bill.
"Something fairly similar to the first secret I told you."
It was nearly eleven o'clock when Bill and Charlie made their way back from the lake to the main building of the dragon sanctuary. They had stayed up talking into the wee hours of the morning, and had thus had a lie in to compensate for the late night as well as their drinks. The campsite had not taken long to pack and they knew they would have plenty of time to make it back to the reserve, get Bill's belongings together and get him to Bucharest in time for his afternoon flight back to London and dinner with his beautiful fiancé.
"This was a nice visit, Charlie," the older Weasley remarked as the two walked alongside each other on the dirt path, the main building just within their sights. "We really should see each other more often."
"Well, there's your wedding this summer," said the dragon keeper, adjusting the strap of his backpack as he spoke, "though I imagine you'll be fairly occupied with the wedding and then busy for a while after it."
"And then there will be your wedding," Bill teased.
A swift punch to the arm was his brother's reply, just hard enough to hurt his skinny adult brother and make him stop talking for a brief moment. Unfortunately, only a brief moment.
"Don't wait too long is all I'm saying," the long-haired redhead justified. "You've known her far longer than I've known Fleur. If you're meant to be together, don't prolong singleness."
"It's not so much prolonging singleness as it is making up the time we lost," the younger brother explained, his eyes darting upwards to the infirmary's window where he'd often stolen a glance of the green-eyed Healer. "We're not in a hurry for anything…unlike some people who act as though they have a nine-month clock."
That time it was Charlie's turn to be punched in the arm, though the muscles he'd developed over the years of tending to dragons had made Bill's hit feel like a mere tap. The low laugh of his brother signified that he hadn't tried very hard either.
"Be nice, you prat," Bill sniggered as his boots bounded up the stairs to the wooden porch. "I am keeping a rather important secret from Mum and Dad for you."
"For their sake, not mine," Charlie reminded, opening the door and crossing the threshold of his home away from home.
They had only just entered the foyer when they found a pair of cross eyes looking at them from over a Sunday edition of The Romanian Horn newspaper.
"Abby and Simeon have been waiting to see you," Tamara announced rather sternly, as though she were about to begin scolding Charlie for tracking in dirt along the shiny floors. "They're upstairs in the infirmary."
Neither of the men waited for further explanation, dropping their bags to bolt down the corridor and up the steps to the second landing. Charlie burst through the doors of the sanctuary's hospital with Bill right behind him, making straight for the sole occupied bed where Abby and Bella were hovering.
"Take your time and rest," the Healer instructed her patient as she stood from her seat, a potion bottle in hand. "The ointment will take effect shortly."
A grunt of understanding came from the thin figure in the bed, who was facedown upon the pillow without a shirt and a thick yellow pasty substance across their back. Charlie and Bill stopped at the foot of the hospital bed.
"What happened?" Charlie spat out once he had stopped running.
"Is Simeon all right?" added Bill, panting behind his brother whilst whipping his long ponytail out of his face.
"Simeon is fine," Bella replied, a look of confusion crossing her face. "He just went to get something from his room while Abby tended to Marcel."
An arm of the bedridden figure waved at the newly arrived visitors, though he was unable to turn over with the potion seeping into the pores on his back. A turn of his head, followed by a deep laboured breath, allowed his mentor to see part of his face and confirm the identity as not his roommate.
"I overreached in my vorkout this morning," the skinny young man explained in his Romanian accent. "I should have vaited for you to return before trying the free veights."
A/N: Oh my gosh, someone is actually reading this story! Army-X-7, I have to say that your leaving a review completely made my day. I assumed for a while no one was actually reading and that was fine since that's not why I write, but thank you for taking the time to read and leave a comment.
Moya ledi translates to "my lady" in Russian.
I've long thought about how the war might have affected the oldest Weasley boys and also lingered on the comment from Arthur Weasley in book four, about his vivd descriptor of the Dark Mark and Charlie has ultimately repressed his traumatic memory of his grandparents and uncles murders. It speaks to why the Second War is important to him and his fears are similar to his mother's because he's already suffered the loss. I tend to think of Charlie as being a lot like Mrs Weasley in many ways. But anyway, Bill knows Charlie best so it makes sense for him to be in on his brother's little secret.