A/N: So, I asked Lucy if I could borrow little Evelyn Alistair and then forgot to credit her. Evelyn in chapter one is from A Call to Arms by My Dear Professor McGonagall. Once again, thanks to Arnel 63 for betaing!
May 2, 1999
Amy Green stared up at the winged boars atop the open gates, confirming her destination: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She was not familiar with the castle or the grounds, having attended school in New Orleans, Louisiana, but Charlie had assured her if she followed the drive and veered right around the castle the nearby open space near the lake, where the memorial was to be held, would be visible.
It felt weird to be here again, exactly one year later (give or take a few hours). The twenty-four hours that followed the Battle of Hogwarts were the only time she had been here. It was beautiful, she had to admit. The castle itself appeared straight out of a fairytale, and even in the gray light of predawn she could see the grounds, forest, and surrounding mountains would be spectacular. She pushed her hands deeper into her pockets. Coming from the desert edge of Cairo, it was freezing. She had pulled on a sweater and the winter cloak she wore when visiting her best friend in New England, but the Scottish weather was damp as well as cold, and Amy could feel the rising fog's moisture on her face and hair.
One year … last year she had been juggling Order of the Phoenix meetings between treasure hunts, using Apparition or Portkeys to travel thousands of miles in a single evening. Before travel across the Atlantic had become legally difficult as the American magical community isolated itself from the war raging in Britain, she had extended some of those trips to include visits home to her boyfriend. There had been raids and stakeouts, daily meals in the various break rooms scattered around Gringotts Cairo branch eavesdropping on conversations by European witches and wizards in hopes of gathering any detail of useful information, Floo calls with Charlie almost daily.
David had hated those Floo-calls.
Amy sighed, adjusting her stride to navigate the slope down to the lake, which was visible only as a large hole blacker than the land that surrounded it. She still wasn't sure how she felt about her breakup with David Townsend. By the end, it had seemed almost inevitable, but it was hard to look back at the hope and excitement she'd had even just last summer and realize it had all fallen apart.
But today wasn't about her and her problems; being American, living in Egypt, Amy had chosen to become involved, and her literal and emotional distance from the bulk of the fighting had protected her. Even these last twelve months, the grief had been easy to avoid. Other than an overnight visit to Romania on her way back from the U.S. at Christmas and a small announcement in the Cairo Oracle last week, the entire war, not just the Battle of Hogwarts, had been surprisingly easy to avoid.
Not now. Now Amy remembered falling in a giant's footprint; the adrenaline rush of terror and nausea when she had felt something brush her robes and turned to find herself face-to-leg with a dead Acromantula; ducking spells from opponents that, unlike her daily work as a curse-breaker, actually fought back. The dead lined up on the stone floor of the Great Hall, more than half of them mere children; the look on the Weasleys' faces when she had finally found them and asked after Ron and Fred.
And Nymphadora Tonks. Amy didn't make friends easily, but Tonks hadn't given her much of a choice. The few nights Amy had stayed over in London those first two years of the war had always been with Tonks, usually because they'd been having so much fun Amy had missed her Portkey. She had been shocked when she heard the news of Tonks's death, having never dreamed her friend would have left her newborn son. Communication with anyone in Britain had been sparse that last year, but Tonks had made an effort to send word of her pregnancy and marriage to Remus Lupin. Amy had done the math and made a note on her calendar in early April 1998, wishing mom and baby a safe delivery and all the happiness in the world.
For all the good it did.
Tonks had been Amy's friend, but Charlie had known her all his life, been friends with her throughout their years here at Hogwarts before they started dating. While he'd never said so, Amy had always sensed there was more to their relationship than teenage puppy love, at least on his side. As much as Amy missed Tonks, grieved her, raged against the tragedy that killed a young woman in the prime of her life, that deprived a baby of his mother … all those feelings had to be magnified for Charlie.
She had arrived. The chairs were about half full already. In the front row the messy black and bright red hair of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were easily recognizable, Ron's girlfriend, Hermione Granger, between them. Charlie had offered to save Amy a seat but she had demurred, fearing she would intrude on the family's private grief as they mourned the death of a son and brother. Instead she gave a small wave to the red-haired row and joined the other members of the Order of the Phoenix sitting near the aisle.
The group was pitifully small, much smaller than the witches and wizards who had crowded the kitchen of Grimmauld House at her first meeting. Swallowing hard, Amy looked around for a distraction.
From this perspective she could see the space between the stage and the crowd … or what used to be a space. Filled with flowers, candles, and pictures of the dead, it was the brightest spot despite the rising sun on the horizon. With a pang, Amy realized some of those faces had been Muggle-born (like her), but their parents and families would not be here; couldn't be here. She took a deep breath and pulled out a couple of tissues from the travel pack in her pocket. She was going to need them.
()()()()
It had been a moving, respectful ceremony. The sleepy-eyed children from the castle were meandering back for breakfast, and most of the crowd was lining up to speak with Harry Potter, just as they had a year ago after Voldemort fell at his hand. Amy made her way against the flow to greet the Weasleys.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were a little triangle of their own, hands clasped and heads bent close together. Even their children were not approaching them, so Amy waited at the opposite end of the row, smiling at Fleur and accepting hugs from Bill and Ginny as they passed. George looked fragile enough to break, so Amy didn't speak, just squeezed his arm as he walked by. Charlie was next but stepped back to let Percy go ahead. When the young man turned and walked away without making eye contact, Amy reached out and grabbed the back of his robes.
"Hey! What am I, chopped liver?"
Percy stared blankly for a moment, leading Amy to surmise that must be an American idiom.
"Get down here," she said, reaching her arms up for a hug.
He was taller than Charlie, as tall as Bill, and she had to stand on tiptoe to speak in his ear. "Life's too short for hard feelings, wouldn't you agree?"
Percy's head jerked in a nod and he hugged her back, blinking rapidly as they separated.
"Go on, Perce. I'll see you later."
With Charlie behind him, Amy couldn't see the look that passed between the brothers, but she felt it.
Percy turned back around. "It was nice to see you, Amy," he said quietly and left, leaving her and Charlie standing alone.
"I'll walk you back," Charlie said.
"All right," she agreed.
They fell in step with the others leaving the lakeside, but unlike the murmur of conversation all around them, Charlie was silent. Amy tolerated it for a while—he certainly had reason—but when the enormous, fantastical castle came into view and still he said nothing, she bumped gently against his shoulder.
"Tell me something about Hogwarts. About when you were here."
"I remember their Sorting," he said finally. "The twins'. Fred went first—he always went first, but the Sorting is alphabetical order—and he grinned at me with this smug look before the hat even touched his head. He knew he was a Gryffindor, never doubted it." He paused. "But George—I asked Percy about it later, to see if I'd imagined it, and he agreed with me. There was just the slightest hint of fear in George's eyes before the hat hid them, that maybe this time he wouldn't be able to follow Fred."
Not exactly the kind of memory she'd been hoping for. "Bill always described them as 'pranksters extraordinaire.'"
Charlie laughed. Harshly, but it was a laugh. Of sorts.
"Godric, like nothing I've ever seen," he said. "I was Quidditch Captain that year, their first year. First-years aren't allowed on the House teams, but they hijacked nearly every practice in one way or another. Bucking spells on the broomsticks, sticking charms on the Quaffle so it couldn't be thrown, they even figured out some way to—" He turned to her. "What's it called, the little wand thing Muggles have? For the telly?"
"A remote?"
"That's it. They even figured out a way to remote control the Snitch. Well, the practice one," he amended. "The real ones are locked in Madame Hooch's office so no one can throw a match by tampering with one."
He laughed again, genuinely this time. "I remember—did Bill ever tell you about Lindsay Campbell?"
Amy shook her head.
"Tonks caught the two of them in the broom shed one time. She, ah—" He ran a hand through his cropped hair, making it stand on end, and just the tips of his ears were turning pink. "She was supposed to be meeting me, but I was running late—I don't know, maybe Snape kept us late in Potions, or maybe—I used to swear Percy had my and Tonks's timetables memorized and sabotaged us every chance he could, so maybe he'd held me up—anyway, by the time I get there Lindsay's nowhere in sight and Tonks—" He snickered. "Little Tonks is standing toe-to-toe with my big brother, yelling at him about how the broom shed is our spot and everyone knows only Quidditch players are allowed in and just because he's Head Boy…. On and on she went, for a good five minutes, and every time Bill made to move around her, she morphed into a different professor. Merlin, she was magnificent. I'd forgotten about that."
"She played Quidditch?"
Charlie nodded. "Beater, for Hufflepuff. Graceful on a broomstick, she was."
The mood shifted again, not quite melancholy but not exactly relaxed, either. Amy was trying to ignore the way his hand kept brushing hers, but she didn't think how closely they were walking was an accident.
It was a few steps before she realized he wasn't beside her. He had stopped partway down the drive to the gates, looking back at the castle as if he'd forgotten she was there at all.
"Charlie?"
He didn't turn around. "When I left school, I thought I would never be back. Now…."
"Now it will be every year," Amy said quietly, and he nodded.
"I—" He swiped one arm across his face and turned, taking her hand. "It's not how I wanted to remember Hogwarts."
"It's not your only memory of Hogwarts," she said, squeezing his hand.
He heaved a sigh. "No," he admitted, falling into step with her. "But it's bloody prominent."
It was. Amy remembered making this same walk with Charlie last year, coming from the Great Hall that time.
It could have been yesterday.
She stopped just outside the gates which marked the border of the protective spells and wards that guarded the school and grounds.
"So, I'll see you around, yeah?" She wasn't proud of the hesitant, fearful tone of her voice, but this felt like a final goodbye, a true test of their friendship. Without Bill, without the Order, without funerals and final business meetings and celebratory parties, without Tonks … what reason would they have to see each other again?
"Didn't you stay overnight?"
"Well, yeah, but—"
He let go of her hand and wrapped his around her waist, drawing her close and turning her toward Hogsmeade at the same time.
"I'll walk you back," he said casually.
Too casually. He had kissed her over Christmas—the last time they'd seen each other in person—really kissed her, and she had let him. She had still been dating David, Charlie was just back from a difficult holiday with his family, she had seen the kiss coming, and she had let him. And kissed him back … and not regretted it.
"Charlie—" She broke off when she realized how close they were. With his arm around her waist, turning to face him meant she was standing in his embrace. She swallowed.
He reached out and raked his fingers through her hair, pushing it away from one side of her face, behind her shoulder. Amy opened her mouth but nothing came out. He must have sensed her discomfort, for he took her hand again and tugged.
"Come on, I'll buy you a drink."
"It's barely sunrise!" she protested, waving her free hand at the pale halo of sun struggling to burn away the morning mist.
"Tea, then."
"Charlie…."
He still held her hand, and now he wove his fingers between hers. "Amy," he mocked.
She huffed and tried to pull away, only succeeding in bringing him closer so their hands rested on his chest. Amy looked away from Hogsmeade and the temptation of her room in The Three Broomsticks.
"I think we both know what will happen if you walk me back to Hogsmeade."
He raised his brows, the challenging "so?" unspoken but clear.
She closed her eyes, trying to think past the haze of emotion and memory. She'd spent a good chunk of her nights these last four months trying not to think of the way Charlie Weasley had kissed her at Christmas. But this was really, really bad timing. Worse than Christmas, even, when she'd still been dating David. She couldn't shake the feeling that if she and Charlie slept together this morning, this morning, their sadness and grief and guilt and regrets about the war would get mixed up with their feelings for each other, and they'd never speak to one another again.
Amy pulled her hand from his and stepped back. "Not today, Charlie," she said as gently as she could. "Not—" She waved her hand at the gates and the castle and grounds beyond. "Not after this."
He blew out a breath, nodded. "Yeah. You're probably right."
"I usually am," she teased, and was rewarded by the hint of a smile. "G'won," she said, letting her Southern accent drawl the words together. "Spend the day with your family. Remember Fred, and Tonks, and everyone else you knew. I'll see you later."
He pointed at her, already starting to back away. "I'll hold you to that."
"Do," Amy said, then on impulse, crossed the space between them and hugged him. "Don't be a stranger," she whispered.
"The Floo goes both ways," he replied, completing the repetition of the same exchange they'd made last year, then setting her away from him, laying one calloused hand on her cheek for the briefest of moments. "'Bye, Amy. Take care of yourself."
Amy didn't stay to watch him walk out of sight but turned towards Hogsmeade, knowing she would never return.
a/n: MandyinKC will return tomorrow with another chapter of Reflections, and we'll alternate from then on. Be sure you're following both stories for the full experience!