CHAPTER FIVE:

Third Person P.O.V.:

Charlie glared at the clock on the wall, flinching every single time its hands twitched. There was a cold shill that made its way down his spine, but he doubted that it was just because of the cold dampness that clung to the dungeons like death.

He slicked his hair back disdainfully, painfully aware of the blackened eyes that were watching him. Across the room, hidden behind the vapor of various potions that hung thickly in the air, sat Severus Snape in an armchair behind his desk, who appeared more painfully quiet than ever before.

After Neville had delivered news of his detention, Charlie was forced down to the dungeons to sort flobberworms, just as requested, and he could've sworn that the sight of Snape's office caused him more dread than ever before. When he arrived, Charlie said not but a single word to Professor Snape, and even went as far as to not glance in his direction, unwilling to give Snape the satisfaction he had so wishfully presumed he would get.

For the past hour, they sat in silence. Occasionally, Snape would glance sideways at Charlie, observing all the familiar signs of teenage surliness, and felt just as ill-equipped to deal with it as he always had.

He would contemplate opening a dialogue, but knew all too well that Charlie wasn't the type to suffer idle chit-chat, especially with him, and without anything else but the obvious to speak (which neither of them seemed willing to broach), Snape didn't see a way out of the excruciating awkwardness of silence.

On the other side of the room, Charlie could feel the penetrating scowl of his Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor on the side of his face. He gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to sigh, throwing worms harshly from one bucket to another, as though each of them had wronged him in some way.

There was a method to Charlie's madness, you see. His plan was to hastily sort through these toothless wannabe slugs and end this torturous detention, leaving Snape with nothing but an uncertain knowingness that would ultimately play upon his guilty conscience. Charlie was beyond past reason, as he wanted Snape to suffer, and struggled to contain the anger boiling in his veins whenever the two were found in the same room together.

In Charlie's eyes, there was nothing redeemable about Severus Snape, despite his grandfather's constant support of the contrary. Professor Snape was a hateful and twisted man with a vendetta against anyone who had wronged him. He, in Charlie's most honest opinion, was no different from the Dark Lord himself, for both had done nothing to prove that there was any humanity left within them.

As biased as he may be, Charlie thought of nothing but excruciating pain and insufferable loneliness when he thought of Professor Snape. There was even a part of Charlie that blamed Snape for everything that had become of him. It was a fair accusation, one might believe, for Severus Snape had ultimately been Charlie's last hope of survival from the Dark Mark over the summer break.

But, as one should've assumed, Snape did nothing.

The never-ending nightmare that was the newfound life of Charlie Hawthorne was undeniably the result of Severus Snape's cowardice that night in Malfoy Manor. It was this very belief that stemmed a hatred within Charlie that was greater fuelled than anything else he had once believed in.

Lost in thought, Charlie outstretched his arm to drop another rotten flobberworm into the rubbish bin. Misjudging the distance between him and the bucket, however, Charlie's elbow banged into the side of it before he could catch himself, causing the whole bucket to fall over onto the floor, worms flying everywhere.

"You clumsy, arrogant fool!"

Charlie jumped slightly due to the slimy drawl coming from behind him. He whirled around to find that Professor Snape had finally stepped out of the shadows, and had, inadvertently, broken the silence. He was looking down his upturned nose, glaring at Charlie, who sat, dumbfounded, in his hard wooden desk chair.

"Only you, Mr. Hawthorne, would struggle with a punishment as easy as this," snarled Snape, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Remind me, next time, to set a task that is proven comprehensible to those of astonishingly simple minds. Maybe then, you might actually make an effort towards completion."

"It was an accident," growled Charlie lowly, as he got down on his hands and knees to clean up his mess.

"But nothing is mere accident, is it, Mr. Hawthorne?" asked Snape rhetorically, smiling inwardly at his wit. "Nothing takes place without the opportunity of selfish benefit."

Charlie scoffed, chucking a rotten worm into the bin, "What the bloody hell would I have to gain from accidentally knocking over a bucket full of rotten worms?"

"I have no interest in alleviating myself in attempt to think as you do," Snape taunted, crossing his arms. "I was merely suggesting something of worthy incompetence that might've formulated itself as an idea in that simple mind of yours."

"Right," huffed Charlie, realizing it wasn't worth the headache to continue the conversation. Putting the last of the flobberworms into the bucket, Charlie rose to his feet once again, dusting himself off at the knees.

"What?" questioned Snape, sounding incredibly amused. "No witty retort, Hawthorne? Curious, I must say. The other day, your comments were paired with unmatched arrogance, and now... nothing. Forgive me, but I fail to understand what has happened since then. Is it because you no longer have the audience to boost your excessively large ego? Or rathe-"

"I've realized it's not worth it," interjected Charlie, slouching back in his chair to resume his task. "I reckon it's better to save my breath than attempt to argue. You see, I've heard that silence is the best response to a stupid, foul git."

"Watch yo-"

"Or what?" sniggered Charlie, tossing another flobberworm into the bucket. "What're you going to have me do next? Scrub the cauldrons with a toothbrush? Polish the silver in the trophy room without magic? Go right ahead. Believe me, I'd rather do anything else than sit here and listen to you insult and belittle me at every goddamn turn."

"Spare me the melodrama," Snape groaned, eyeing Charlie as though he was a vile human being. "This is detention, Hawthorne, not a counselling session. I do not have time to waste listening to you ramble on about your sad, teenage sob story."

Charlie let out a vicious, low chuckle.

"Quite ironic coming from you," he spat, shooting Snape a scathing look. "Aren't you the one who still holds a petty grudge over something that happened over twenty years ago? I mean, isn't that why you give Harry such a hard time?" When Snape froze, Charlie smirked in victory, "Oh yes, I've heard all about your sob story... Snivellus."

In a flash of an instant, something had snapped within Snape. He took a furious breath and lunged forward, yanking Charlie directly out of his chair. He grabbed both of Charlie's wrists, tightening his grip until his knuckles turned white; Snape could feel the boy's bony forearms shaking from anger.

Charlie winced, groaning in pain, as Snape's hands had latched themselves around his Dark Mark. As Snape kept applying pressure, the burning sensation returned, boiling the blood in Charlie's veins. Something had changed in their relationship in that moment. It had somehow become even more hateful... Snape had undoubtedly crossed a line.

"Do not insult me, Hawthorne."

"G-Get your fucking h-hands off me!"

Pushing Snape with every ounce of strength he had, Charlie was relieved when his Professor had let go upon impact. The young boy collapsed to the floor once again, cradling his left forearm to his chest. Immediately, Snape paled upon watching the boy cower with fear, realizing that he had gone too far.

Deep inside he was ashamed about his own behaviour, but the anger he felt whenever that horrific nickname was mentioned suppressed any feeling of guilt or remorse. The room had once again been overcome with silence, but this time there was no escaping the inventible confrontation between the two men in question.

"M-My apologies," Snape breathed slowly at last, and Charlie marvelled at the tone of guiltlessness in his voice. "It wasn't my intenti-"

"I don't want to hear it," shouted Charlie, who had crawled his way towards the table in attempt to pull himself together.

Snape gulped uneasily, attempting to justify himself, "It wasn't intentional, believe me. It's just... those men were nothing more than arrogant bullies."

"Yeah, well," Charlie began, using the table to help him up, balancing until he gathered enough strength to stand on his own. "Takes one to know one."

Charlie watched as what little color drained from Snape's face.

"How dare yo-"

"Oh, I dare," Charlie snapped, flinching slightly as the pain subsided at last. "What makes you any different from the 'bullies' you once feared? I mean, you both seem to have a clear knack for beating up on kids."

"It was an accident," dismissed Snape, speaking in a deceptively soft responsive voice.

"But nothing is mere accident, is it, Professor?" mimicked Charlie, his jaw clenched in fury. "Isn't that what you said?"

Snape stood still, dumbfounded. Charlie knew he was livid by the slight tint of red coating his cheeks.

"I-"

"At least not without the opportunity of selfish benefit, I'm sure," Charlie continued, too hyper-focused on rage to stop himself. "Tell me something, Professor, what benefit did you foresee for yourself when you decided to throw your life away to willingly follow a murderous psychopath?"

Snape turned unexpectedly, his eyes aglow with an inner fire. Silence descended around them as he glared at his offender.

"Are you done?"

While his voice was low and calm, the anger emanating from him was deafening.

"Oh, forgive me, I was simply curious," said Charlie sarcastically, shaking his head. "You see, these last few months have really got me trying to understand the importance of freedom. I suppose I just thought that maybe you could humour me on what it's like being the Dark Lord's obedient foot-soldier, answering at his beck and call."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Snape snarled, but Charlie wouldn't back down.

"You're right, I don't," he growled, his fists clenched as he stood tall. He took a step forward, challenging Snape, "Because, unlike you, I'm unfamiliar with freedom of choice when it comes to the situation. I mean, you can't blame me for wondering what might've been had I not been forced into ruining my life, can you, Professor?"

Charlie's voice had risen exponentially at the last sentence, his tone shaky and broken. There was so much emotion pouring out of him that it was almost impossible to stop himself from lashing out.

"Ah, so there it is," Snape merely sneered, his blackened eyes were narrow behind his curtain bangs. He paused, creating tension, before he spoke once again, "Believe me, Hawthorne, no one regrets what happened over the summer with you and Draco more than I, but you must understand that there is something beyond you at play here..."

"Don't you think I bloody well know that?" Charlie hissed, his Dark Mark flaring at the exhilaration. He froze, gripping at his forearm in hopes to delay the never-ending burning sensation.

Again, Snape took notice of this action, carefully observing the hesitation in Charlie's voice and the peculiar movement of his defeated limbs. Snape wasn't a complete monster; he did feel bad, especially since it was his cowardice behaviour that sentenced Charlie to his fate. He watched the boy rub his left forearm frantically, becoming immediately aware of what must've happened.

"He's called for you, hasn't he?" muttered Snape softly, eyeing the brown eyed boy with the utmost curiosity. When Charlie said nothing, Snape got the answer he was looking for, "What did he want?"

Charlie stubbornly shrugged, avoiding Snape's penetrating gaze, "Wouldn't know."

"You defied the Dark Lord when he called for you?" Snape balked, his eyes wide. "Were you deliberately being obtuse?"

The young boy blinked, perplexed, "What the hell did you expect me to do? You can't honestly believe I'd ever do the Dark Lord's bidding!"

"Oh, Merlin... what have you done..."

"I don't understand what you want from me!"

"How many times has the Dark Lord tried to contact you?"

Charlie shrugged, "I dunno, my arm's been burning nonstop for the last few weeks. I didn't think it meant anything, but the pain kept getting increasingly worse. What does tha-"

"It all makes sense... yes, yes, Draco, my vow... oh god, oh god, what have you done?" Snape rambled to himself, so silently that Charlie only picked up some of the words.

"Malfoy? What does he have to do with anything?" Charlie questioned, thoroughly intrigued. "What the hell are you talking about? What have I done?"

"You stup-" Snape caught himself, taking a deep breath, and bit his tongue. "Have you not realized it yet? You are now a prisoner of the Dark Lord! Meaning, there are consequences if you deliberately defy or disobey him!"

"What kind of consequences?" Charlie gulped uneasily, and it didn't help when Snape looked away from him guiltily. And so, he repeated, "What kind of consequences, Professor? No one ever told me the specifics of what would happen."

But instead of answering, Snape shook his head, unable to bring himself to divulge the truth to the young naive boy in front of him. He began to pace erratically, scaring Charlie further. For a couple minutes, Snape said nothing, enclosing them in silence once again. That is until he finally decided to change the topic.

"He's been calling you for months, you say?" Snape continued on, his tone short and to the point as though trying to divert the situation. "Yes, well, I suspect this to be the reason for your distressed appearance. Tell me, what exactly have you told your grandfather about what's happened to you? He's been asking ques-"

"No, we're not doing this," Charlie scoffed, moving to sort the last of the flobberworms so he could leave. "You don't get to pretend to care."

"I'm not pretending... I can see the horror in your eyes, and quite frankly, the look is all too familiar," Snape sighed heavily, gripping the ends of the table. "You're suffocating with fear, and it's to be expected. I t-think... I believe, er... let me help you," he added, sounding uncharacteristically hopeful, as he reached out a helping hand.

"I don't need your help," Charlie hissed, slapping Snape's hand away immediately; any rage that had seemingly subsided, instantly began to flare once more. "Don't you see? You did this to me! I'm suffering because of your bloody cowardice! So, don't you try to fucking patronize me, Professor."

"Don't fool yourself, Hawthorne," Snape sneered, the coldness returning to his voice. "I can assure you that no one understands you more than I."

Charlie let out a light, rueful chuckle, "How dare you stand here and try to convince me that we're somehow the same. We are nothing alike, I promise you."

"I've bared this Mark on my arm for decades," growled Snape, indicating towards his left forearm. "I know exactly how you must feel, believe me! Which is why, I offer my sentiments... and my help, if you are so inclined."

"Bit late for your help, isn't it?" Charlie laughed bitterly, throwing the last flobberworm aside. "Your lack of courage already sealed my fate back at Malfoy Manor."

"Watch your mouth," hissed Snape, clearly getting more and more offended.

"And why should I?" challenged Charlie, taking a ferocious stance, his eyes narrow. "The truth hurts, doesn't it, Professor? However, I don't imagine it hurts more than having your life forcefully taken away from you."

"Hawthorn-"

"No, I'm done listening to your pathetic excuses," Charlie snapped, gathering his things and heading for the door. Before he reached for the handle, he turned around and raised the sleeve of his left forearm, revealing the jet black mark underneath, "Let this be a reminder to you, Professor, that not only has your cowardice ruined your life, but it appears as though it's also ruined mine... and honestly? I sincerely hope guilt eats you alive."

"Hawthorne, where do you think you're going?"

"This detention is not over until I say it is! "

"Hawthorne!"

"HAWTHORNE!"

But Charlie had swept from the room without second thought, slamming the door shut behind him as a reminiscent sound of victory. Snape listened as the boy's footsteps faded, taking a deep anguished breath.

The long haired professor fell victim to silence for what fell like the hundredth time that day.The difference, however, was that he now sat alone with his pestering mind, realizing that Charlie had unknowingly signed his fate, just as he had his.

Guilt truly was going to eat him alive...

--------------------

Where was Dumbledore, and what was he doing?

Charlie caught sight of the Headmaster only twice over the next few weeks. He rarely appeared at meals anymore, and Charlie was sure Hermione was right in thinking that he was leaving the school for days at a time.

Had Dumbledore been purposefully ignoring Charlie since their fight?

Could Snape have said something to Dumbledore that might've raised his suspicions?

It was strange, as Charlie had always felt bolstered and comforted in the presence of Dumbledore, but now he felt slightly abandoned -

As for Professor Snape, Charlie had successfully managed to avoid him at all costs, and even went undetected in Defence Against the Dark Arts, priding himself of staying out of trouble. Safe to say, Charlie wasn't looking to engage in another heated conversation with Professor Snape anytime soon.

Halfway through October came their first trip of the term to Hogsmeade. Charlie had wondered whether these trips would still be allowed, given the increasingly tight security measures around the school, but was pleased to know that they were going ahead; it was always good to get out of the castle grounds for a few hours.

On the morning of the trip, the wind and sleet pounded relentlessly on the windows. Charlie slept peacefully, hidden under his covers. In the nearby bed sat Harry Potter, who was closely examining the Half-Blood Prince's copy of Advanced Potion-Making.

Harry had been relentlessly practicing various self-invented spells created by the Prince, and would eagerly search the margins for any sign of scribbled instructions for a spell that seemed to have caused the Prince some trouble. There were many crossings-out and alterations, but finally, crammed into a corner of the page, there was a spell that caught Harry's eye.

Pointing his wand at nothing in particular, Harry gave it an upward flick and said, 'Levicorpus,' inside his head.

"Aaaaaaaargh!"

"Oi, what the fu-"

There was a flash of light and the room was full of voices; everyone had woken up as both Charlie and Ron had let out a yell. Harry sent Advanced Potion-Making flying in panic; his two best friends were dangling upside-down in midair as though an invisible hook had hoisted them up by the ankles.

"Sorry!" yelled Harry, as Dean and Seamus roared with laughter, and Neville picked himself up from the floor, having fallen out of bed. "Hang on - I'll let you down!"

He groped for the potion book and riffled through it in a panic, trying to find the right page; at last he located it and deciphered the cramped word underneath the spell. Praying that this was the counter-jinx, Harry thought 'Liberacorpus,' with all his might. There was another flash of light, and Ron and Charlie fell in a heap onto their respective mattresses.

"Sorry," repeated Harry weakly, while Dean and Seamus continued to roar with laughter.

"Well," said Ron in a muffled voice, "good morning to you too, I guess."

"Tomorrow," huffed Charlie, burying his head back into his pillow. "I'd rather you set the alarm clock."

By the time they had got dressed, padding themselves out with several of Mrs. Weasley's hand-knitted sweaters and carrying cloaks, scarves, and gloves, Charlie's shock had subsided and he had decided that Harry's new spell was highly amusing. Ron apparently thought so too, as he lost no time in regaling Hermione with the story as they sat down for breakfast.

"...and then there was another flash of light and I landed on the bed again!" Ron grinned, helping himself to sausages.

Hermione had not cracked a smile during this anecdote, and now turned an expression of wintry disapproval upon Harry.

"Was this spell, by any chance, another one from that potion book of yours?" she asked, her eyes suggestively narrow.

Harry frowned at her, "Always jump to the worst conclusion, don't you?"

"Was it?"

"Well... yeah, it was, but so what?"

"So you just decided to try out an unknown, handwritten incantation and see what would happen?"

"Why does it matter if it's handwritten?" Harry, preferring not to answer the rest of the question.

"Because it's probably not Ministry of Magic approved," said Hermione, matter-of-factory. "And also," she added, as the each of the boys had rolled their eyes, "because I'm starting to think this Prince character was a bit dodgy."

Both Harry and Ron shouted her down at once, but Charlie remained silent, unwilling to start bickering this early in the morning.

"It was a laugh!" defended Ron, upending a ketchup bottle over his sausages. "Just a laugh, Hermione, that's all!"

"Dangling people upside down by the ankle?" questioned Hermione, glancing between the three boys. "Who puts their time and energy into making up spells like that?"

"Fred and George," chuckled Ron, shrugging, "it's their kind of thing."

"We've seen a lot of people use it, in case you've forgotten," Charlie sighed, his tone low and sleepy. "What do you think those Death Eaters were doing at the Quidditch World Cup? Dangling people in the air. Making them float along, asleep, helpless."

"That was different," Ron shouted robustly, coming to Harry's aid. "They were abusing it. Harry was just having a laugh. You don't like the Prince, Hermione," he added, pointing a sausage at her sternly, "because he's better than you at Potio-"

"It's got nothing to do with that!" interjected Hermione, her cheeks reddening. "I just think it's very irresponsible to start performing spells when you don't even know what they're for, and stop talking about 'the Prince' as if it's his title, I bet it's just a stupid nickname, and it doesn't seem as though he was a very nice person to me!"

"I don't see where you'd get that from," said Harry heatedly. "If he'd been a budding Death Eater he wouldn't have been boasting about being 'half-blood,' would he?"

"The Death Eaters aren't all purebloods, they can't be," muttered Charlie darkly, and Hermione smiled lightly as he backed her up. "Most of them are half-bloods pretending to be pure."

"It's only muggle-borns they hate," Hermione added, ruffling through her copy of the Daily Prophet. "I'm sure they'd be quite happy to let any of you three join up."

"There is no way they'd let me be a Death Eater!" laughed Ron indignantly, as a bit of sausage flew off the fork he was now brandishing at Hermione, hitting Ernie Macmillan on the head. "My whole family are blood traitors! That's as bad as muggle-borns to Death Eaters!"

"And they'd love to have me," said Harry sarcastically. "We'd be best pals if they didn't keep trying to do me in."

Charlie became uncomfortably still as Ron continued to roar with laughter; even Hermione gave a grudging smile. Luckily for Charlie, a distraction arrived in the shape of Elaina Dumont.

"Hey, Harry, I'm supposed to give you this."

It was a scroll of parchment with Harry's name written upon it in familiar thin, slanting writing. Much to Charlie's dismay, a little twinge of jealousy erupted in his core as he recognized the handwriting immediately.

"Thanks, Elaina... it's about my lesson with Dumbledore on Monday," Harry told his friends, pulling open the parchment and quickly reading its contents. Feeling suddenly light and happy, Harry turned back around to the girl who currently occupied his thoughts, "Elaina, I was meaning to ask you, but would you like to join us at Hogsmeade? We can go grab a Butterbeer or something."

"I'm actually going with Theo, but I'll see you there maybe?" Elaina replied, looking hopeful. When Harry nodded, she smiled, "Great, and before I forget, are we still on for our tutoring session on Sunday?"

"Absolutely," grinned Harry, and Ron and Charlie shared a laugh from across the table, which was quickly silenced by Hermione, who slapped them both on the arm.

"Perfect, I can't wait," beamed Elaina, and she waved them goodbye as she left.

Harry turned back around to his three friends, who were now all raising suggestive eyebrows in his direction.

Flustered, he lowered his head to hide the redness arising in his cheeks, and muttered, "Oh, shut up."

With no further impending questions, the core four finished their breakfast and hurried out to the courtyard with the rest of their grade to prepare for departure.

Filch was standing at the oak front doors as usual, checking off the names of people who had permission to go into Hogsmeade. The process took even longer than normal as Filch was triple-checking everybody with his Secrecy Sensor.

"What does it matter if we're smuggling Dark stuff OUT?" demanded Ron, eyeing the long thin Secrecy Sensor with apprehension. "Surely you ought to be checking what we bring back IN?"

His cheek earned him a few extra jabs with the Sensor, and he was still wincing as they stepped out into the wind and sleet.

The walk into Hogsmeade was not enjoyable. Charlie wrapped his scarf over the lower portion of his face; the exposed part soon felt both raw and numb. The road to the village was full of students pushing against the bitter wind.

More than once Charlie wondered whether they might not have had a better time in the warm common room, and when they finally reached Hogsmeade and saw that Zonko's Joke Shop had been boarded up, Charlie took it as confirmation that this trip was not destined to be fun.

Nonetheless, Ron pointed, with a thickly gloved hand, toward Honeydukes, which was mercifully open, and Charlie, Harry and Hermione staggered in his wake into the crowded shop.

"Thank God," shivered Ron as they were enveloped by warm, toffee-scented air. "Let's stay here all afternoon."

"Charles, m'boy!" said a booming voice from behind them.

"Ah, fuck my life," muttered Charlie, which earned a slap on the arm from Hermione for his use of profanity. The three of them turned to see Professor Slughorn, who was wearing an enormous furry hat and an overcoat with a matching fur collar, clutching a large bag of crystalized pineapple, and occupying at least a quarter of the shop.

"Yes, yes, I thought it was you! Charles, that's three of my little suppers you've missed now!" beamed Slughorn, poking him genially in the chest. "It won't do, m'boy, I'm determined to have you! Mr. Potter and Miss Granger love them, don't you?"

Harry's eyes had rolled to the back of his head, but regardless, he still gave a polite nod.

"Yes," added Hermione helplessly. "They're really somethin-"

"So, why don't you come along then, Charles?" demanded Slughorn, his eyes hopeful.

"Well, I've had Quidditch practice, Professor... and detention, of course," explained Charlie, who was well aware that his Quidditch practices alone weren't a valid excuse, as Harry had managed to go to one dinner, where he was forced to stubbornly converse with McLaggen and Zabini.

"Oh, I understand, m'boy... although it is a pity not having you there," frowned Slughorn, clapping Charlie on the back. "A little recreation never hurt anybody, you know? Now, how about Monday night, you can't possibly want to practice in this weather..."

"You see, I'd love to, Professor, but I, uh," Charlie hesitated for a moment, until his eyes landed upon Harry and an idea popped into his head. "Harry and I have an appointment with my grandfather that evening, so I'm afraid we can't make it."

"Unlucky again!" cried Slughorn dramatically. "Ah, well... you can't evade me forever, Charles!"

And with a regal wave, he waddled out of the shop, taking as little notice of Ron as though he had been a display of Cockroach Clusters.

"I can't believe you've wriggled out of another," huffed Hermione, shaking her head at Charlie. "They're not that bad, you know... and they'd be even better if we were there together..." But then she caught sight of Ron's jealous expression. "Oh, look - they've got Deluxe Sugar Quills - those would last hours!"

Glad that Hermione had changed the subject, Charlie showed much more interest in the new extra-large Sugar Quills than he would normally have done, but Ron continued to look moody and merely shrugged when Hermione asked him where he wanted to go next.

"Let's go to the Three Broomsticks," suggested Harry, his eyes following the distant figures of Elaina and Theodore Nott through the store window with an expression of ultimate desire. "It'll be warm, and I honestly could go for a Butterbeer."

"Yeah, that's not all you could go for," Charlie teased, earning laughs from Ron and Hermione while Harry's glasses fogged from the newfound heat radiating in his cheeks.

They bundled their scarves back over their faces and left the sweetshop. The bitter wind was like knives on their faces after the sugary warmth of Honeydukes. The street was not very busy; nobody was lingering to chat, just hurrying toward their destinations. The exceptions were two men a little ahead of them, standing just outside the Three Broomsticks. One was very tall and thin, and squinting through frozen eyelids, Charlie recognized him as the barman who worked in the other Hogsmeade pub, the Hog's Head.

As Charlie, Harry, Ron, and Hermione drew closer, the barman drew his cloak more tightly around his neck and walked away, leaving the shorter man to fumble with something in his arms. They were barely two feet from him when Harry realized who the man was.

"Mundungus!"

The squat, bandy-legged man with long, straggly, ginger hair jumped and dropped an ancient suitcase, which burst open, releasing what looked like the entire contents of a junk shop window.

"Oh, 'ello, 'Arry," waved Mundungus Fletcher, with a most unconvincing stab at airiness. "Well, don't let me keep ya."

And he began scrabbling on the ground to retrieve the contents of his suitcase with every appearance of a man eager to be gone.

"Are you selling this stuff?" asked Harry, watching Mundungus grab an assortment of grubby-looking objects from the ground.

"Oh, well, gotta scrape a living," mumbled Mundungus, his tone clearly hesitant. "Oi, gimme that!"

Charlie's head snapped to his left, watching as Ron had stooped down to pick up something silver.

"Hang on," Ron whispered slowly, eyeing the object in his hands. "Doesn't this look familiar -"

"No, no, of course not! I'll just have that back, thank you," growled Mundungus, snatching the goblet out of Ron's hand and stuffing it back into the case. "Well, I'll see you all - OUCH!"

Charlie had pinned Mundungus against the wall of the pub by the throat. As Charlie held him aggressively against the hard brick surface, Harry pulled out his wand and shoved it under Mundungus's chin accusingly.

"Charlie! Harry! What're you doing?" squealed Hermione, her eyes wide.

"You took that from Sirius's house," seethed Charlie, who was almost nose to nose with Mundungus and was breathing in an unpleasant smell of old tobacco and spirits. "That had the Black family crest on it."

"I - no - what - ?" spluttered Mundungus, who was slowly turning purple.

"What did you do?" snarled Harry, his face red with anger. "Go back the night he died and strip the place?"

"N-No!"

"Give that to Harry!"

"Hand it over!"

"Boys, you really mustn't," shrieked Hermione, as Mundungus started to turn blue.

There was a bang, and Charlie felt his hands fly off Mundungus's throat. Gasping and spluttering, Mundungus seized his fallen case, then - CRACK - he Disapparated.

"COME BACK, YOU THIEVING - !"

"There's no point, Harry," mumbled Charlie, who had returned his hands to his side at last. "Mundungus is probably in London by now, so there's not point in shouting."

"He's nicked Sirius's stuff! Nicked it!"

"Yes, we know," shrugged Ron, who seemed perfectly untroubled by this piece of information. "But we should probably get out of the cold."

With a heavy sigh, Harry led the way into the Three Broomsticks, and his three friends followed in his wake. The moment they were all inside, Harry burst out, "He was nicking Sirius's stuff!"

"I know, Harry, but please don't shout, people are staring," whispered Hermione. "Go and sit down, I'll get us some Butterbeers, and some ginger and lime."

Harry was still fuming when Hermione returned to their table a few minutes later holding four bottles of Butterbeer.

"Can't the Order control Mundungus?" Harry demanded of the other three in a furious whisper. "Can't they at least stop him from stealing everything that doesn't belong to him when he's at headquarters?"

"Shhh!" hushed Hermione desperately, looking around to make sure nobody was listening. "Harry, I'd be annoyed too, I know it's your things he's stealing -"

Harry gagged on his Butterbeer. had momentarily forgotten that he owned number twelve, Grimmauld Place; Sirius's will had stated that everything of his was left behind exclusively for Harry.

"Yeah, it's my stuff!" Harry growled, slamming his cup back down. "No wonder he wasn't pleased to see me! Well, I'm going to tell Dumbledore what's going on, he's the only one who scares Mundungus."

"Good idea," whispered Hermione, clearly pleased that Harry was calming down. She turned around, "Ron, what are you staring at?"

"Nothing," said Ron, hastily looking away from the bar, but Charlie knew he was trying to catch the eye of the curvy and attractive barmaid, Madame Rosmerta, for whom he had long nursed a soft spot.

"I expect 'nothing's' in the back getting more firewhiskey," sniggered Charlie, earning a suspicious glance from Hermione as he sipped on his Butterbeer.

Ron ignored this jibe, sipping his drink in what he evidently considered to be a dignified silence. Charlie had rested his head upon his hands, relishing in the simplicity of the moment. Harry was thinking about Sirius, and how he had hated those silver goblets anyway. Hermione drummed her fingers on the table, her eyes flickering between Charlie and the bar, as though she thought he might've been planning on doing something she would not approve of.

"I really can't believe you're going to make me go to another one of Slughorn's dinner parties alone," Hermione proclaimed wearily, making conversation as her arms folded across the table, her chin atop them.

Charlie smirked, and feeling quite warm both inside and out, inched closer to her on the bench, and said quietly, "Oh, come on, it won't be that bad. Besides, I'm sure McLaggen will be more than happy to keep yo- OW!"

(A/N: trying something new... ahhhhh, I'm obsessed)

Hermione had kicked him beneath the table, her eyes furtively glancing back and forth between the three boys, although they had lingered upon Charlie for a time that was significantly longer.

Ron hadn't noticed the full exchange, but at McLaggen's name, he shifted his gaze from the bar to say, "McLaggen, what a git."

"What was he talking to you about at tryouts anyway, Hermione?" Harry questioned, evidently calmer than before. "I saw the two of you talking."

"Yeah, what was he saying?" Charlie repeated curiously, his tone leaden with sarcasm as he gently nudged her leg with his foot beneath the table.

She looked helplessly into Charlie's eyes, biting down upon her lip, "Nothing, really, just - just bragging about himself mostly... anyways, another round?"

Before either Charlie, Harry or Ron could reply, she'd already left the table, headed towards the bar.

"Dunno what's gotten into her," Ron sighed, watching her leave. "N.E.W.T.'s probably."

"Yeah," said Harry unconvincingly, "N.E.W.T.'s."

Hermione, rosy cheeked and now smiling, returned moments later with their second round.

"You've got a bit of, um," Ron said to Hermione, pointing to his own mouth, as she returned to her seat next to Charlie. Charlie saw Hermione's upper lip covered with Butterbeer foam, and grinned as the memories of their date in Muggle London flooded his head.

Hermione's hands went for her napkin, but Charlie was faster. Without thinking, he reached over and wiped the foam away with his thumb.

"Oh, um, thanks," Hermione awkwardly cleared her throat; her cheeks were glowing a bright pink, and her eyes were wide in surprise, but not nearly as wide as Ron's.

Reality dawning on him, Charlie scooted further down the bench, putting some distance between himself and Hermione, making sure to down his second Butterbeer as quickly as possible.

Clueless to what was happening, Harry drained the last few drops in his bottle. When he was finished, he noticed something beyond Ron's shoulder and groaned loudly, "Merlin, this day cannot get any worse."

Following Harry's glowering eyes, Charlie could see, in the far corner of the room, that Elaina and Theodore Nott were cuddled in a secluded, dark booth, their faces alit by a flickering candle.

"Well, they look cozy, don't they?" awed Ron obliviously, and Charlie inadvertently sighed into his hands; it truly was astounding how daft the ginger could be when it came to particular situations.

To avoid staring at the seemingly unaware couple, Charlie looked around the bar. Three warlocks sitting close by were staring at Harry with great interest, and Zabini was lolling against a pillar not far away. Not long after, however, two more people had entered the bar, the door chime signalled their arrival, and Charlie smirked mischievously upon noticing who it was.

"Don't worry about it, mate, honestly," Charlie said consolingly, nudging Harry across the table. "Just think, it could be a lot worse... I mean, imagine the horror brought upon one's face if they had to see, say, their sibling in a position like that..."

Confused as to what their friend had been insinuating, Hermione, Ron, and Harry raised a curious brow, which fell back into place once Charlie had pointed over to the door.

Whipping his head around, Ron physically recoiled at the sight of Ginny, his younger sister, leading her boyfriend, Dean, to a nearby table, their hands tightly interlaced with wide grins plastered upon their faces.

"You've got to be bloody joking," gagged Ron, his face crunched with disgust.

"Honestly, Ronald, they're only holding hands," sighed Hermione, shaking her head, as she watched Dean and Ginny take their seats.

"And snogging," added Charlie, stifling a laugh, as it took no more than three seconds for Ginny and Dean to start making out without a care in the world. Ron immediately looked as though he would've liked to wash his eyes out with bleach.

"Well, they look cozy, don't they?" mimicked Harry, and him and Charlie shared a cheeky high five.

"Very funny," Ron grunted, scooting his chair back. He glanced between his friends, "I'd like to leave."

"Leave?" scoffed Hermione, looking at the ginger as though he had gone mad. "You can't be serious."

Ron blinked, bewildered, "That happens to be my sister!"

"So?" rebutted Hermione with an effortless shrug. "What if she looked over here and saw you snogging me? Would you expect her to just get up and leave?"

And just like that, Charlie's face had paled, and any bit of humour in the conversation had died a painful death.

Hermione, realizing what she had said, froze. Her eyes went wider, and she tried to gulp down the rest of her Butterbeer to avoid confrontation. Harry instantly felt overwhelmingly uncomfortable, while Ron became utterly speechless. Naturally, silence fell upon them, and the Three Broomsticks felt emptier than ever before.

"I'm sorry, it just slipped out," came Hermione's timid voice, and Charlie could feel her pleading eyes upon him. "I was just trying to prove a poin-"

"Yes, well, your point was proven, I assure you," muttered Charlie, a little harsher than intended. Gathering himself together, he let out a little infuriated cough, before he moved to stand up, "Excuse me, I think I might go grab some air."

"Charlie, wait -"

"I need some air," he repeated, grabbing his coat and moving hastily for the exit before any more protests rang in his ears.

Not long after, Charlie found himself stood exhaustedly in the vacancy of a nearby alley, resting himself against the cold stone wall. He revelled in the silence, despite the freezing temperature, and let his mind panic without relentless attempt of scolding himself for doing so.

He let out a low, saddened sigh. Charlie had repeated the outcomes of his heartbreak so many times that it had become a liturgy. It was inevitable for Hermione to move on eventually, but it utterly crushed him to hear it insinuated directly from her mouth... and to his best friend, no doubt.

Charlie stared straight ahead with a passive expression on his face. He tried his damnedest to keep from shaking, but struggled under the circumstances. Torches sputtered in their brackens along every few meters of the imposing stone walls of Hogsmeade, doing nothing to ward of the icy cold drafts. Charlie swallowed hard, desperately wondering whether he had lost Hermione forever.

"This is all your fault," he muttered to himself, looking down towards his spasming left forearm. He could practically feel his Dark Mark taunting him through the fabric of his clothes, and he hated every bit of power it held over him.

"Talking to yourself again?"

Charlie had jumped, turning to stare wide eyed, his heart pounding too loudly in his chest, while excuses reeled through his mind.

"Do you reckon that's a newfound hobby of yours?" came the teasing voice of Elaina Dumont once more, and Charlie breathed out in relief. "Or have you always been a weirdo?"

"Very funny," grunted Charlie, stuffing his hands into his jacket pocket. He eyed the French girl curiously, "What are you doing out here?"

"I saw you storm out," Elaina explained simply, shrugging. "I told Theo I'd be right back... I just figured you could use a friend judging by the look on your face."

Charlie's eyes narrowed, his irises a cold, hard black.

"Like I've told you before," he said lowly, "I'm perfectly fine."

"Right... so, what are you doing out here, then?" Elaina countered, her arms crossed in challenge. "Fancy dying from hypothermia, do you? I mean, all your friends are inside... and you're out here - alone, I might add. To me, that means you're anything but fine."

With a heavy sigh, Charlie squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, muttering, "I just couldn't be in there anymore."

"And why is that?" asked Elaina, her brows furrowed with intrigue. "Has something happened?"

"Love's keen sting always did suck," Charlie joked lightheartedly, his eyes snapping open as he tried to ease the heavy atmosphere.

"Ah, I see," hummed Elaina, joining Charlie as she leaned against the wall. "This is about Granger - well, what's she done now? Or, more accurately, what do you think she's done?"

Charlie looked around and pinched the bridge of his nose, hesitating for a moment. He debated in his head how much it would cost him to say the truth.

"As hard as it is to admit, I think she possibly might be developing feelings for Ron," he whispered finally, deciding on the truth. "She said something strange in there... but I guess, it could've meant nothing." He shook his head, defeated, "I dunno, it just caught me off guard."

Elaina froze for a moment, clearly dumbfounded by the news. She didn't need to know the details of the comment, and purposefully didn't ask Charlie, out of fear of upsetting him further.

"Maybe she was just trying to make you jealous," she suggested, nudging Charlie slightly. "And if that's the case, then her plan seemed to have worked."

"I'm not jealous," Charlie defended, and Elaina immediately blinked at him in disbelief.

"Sure you aren't," she smirked, rolling her eyes at the boy's obliviousness. "Tell that to the fact that you're currently moping in an alley."

"Can you blame me?" mumbled Charlie, struck dumb, "I love her, in case that isn't obvious."

"And that's exactly your problem," said Elaina matter-of-factly. "You still love her... even though you are relentless in your attempts to push her away - but that's besides the point. I mean, I think it's natural for you to be upset if she fancies another bloke." She paused, looking him dead in the eye, "But in case you've forgotten, you broke her heart..."

"Yeah, well, I didn't really have much of a choice," Charlie muttered, letting the words fall effortlessly from his mouth.

Elaina's eyebrows knitted together, realizing that the conversation had taken a turn towards concluding truth.

"What do you mean?" she asked softly, and Charlie had realized he dug himself a hole in which he wouldn't be able to escape.

Tensed, Charlie shifted his body back in the direction of the Three Broomsticks, prepared to leave, "Never you mind, just forget it -"

"No, you don't get to just walk away after that... not a chance," Elaina said firmly, pushing him back. "Tell me what's going on. Why didn't you have a choice? Charlie, what did you do?"

A shiver ran down Charlie's spine and he breathed in quickly, his eyes wide with evident panic. He kept his head down as he felt Elaina's hazel eyes burning into him with an intense gaze.

"I was just trying to protect her," he breathed out at last, his voice breaking.

"From what exactly?" Elaina pressed on, her eagerness evident.

Again, Charlie froze. His mind race with a million thoughts per second. This was his chance to reveal his truth, ultimately resolving his feelings of loneliness, but the words got caught in his throat every time he opened his mouth.

He was scared, you see, of how Elaina might react if she learned his deep, dark secret. Charlie didn't want anyone to look at him the way he looked at his father - labelling him as a monster with something as simple as a horrified glance.

"Please, Charlie, you're scaring me... what is it?"

"If I tell you," Charlie began, his anxiety rising, "you have to promise not to tell anyone."

"Charlie, what the hell-"

"Please," he pleaded desperately. "Promise me."

Although utterly confused, Elaina nodded at once, "Of course... of course, I promise."

Heaving a great sigh, Charlie looked around the alley quickly, ensuring that him and Elaina were alone. Slowly, he took off his jacket, one arm at a time, and unbuttoned the cufflink that was fastened along his left wrist.

"Don't freak out, okay?" Charlie hesitated, his breathing ragged. "I'm handling it the best I can."

"Just shut up and show me," Elaina demanded, growing impatient. "I mean, I'm not getting any younger over here."

And at last, with a small nod, Charlie pulled back his sleeve, exposing the imprint of the colossal skull and snake which was permanently branded onto his arm in a deep black. Charlie looked up at Elaina's face, searching it for a reaction, and gulped uneasily, panic coursing through his veins.

There was an excessively troubled breath that left Elaina's lips, her body went numb at the sight. She blinked, silently hoping that one of the times she opened her eyes, the mark would no longer be branded on her friend's arm. There was a part of her that felt as though what she was seeing wasn't real, and she hesitated to say anything, hoping this was a nightmare she would soon wake up from.

But that moment never came.

"Y-You... y-you're a... oh my god," Elaina whispered, taking a step back out of shock. She paced around for a moment, ringing her hands out as though the information was too much to handle. Then, at last she asked, "So, this is what you're trying to protect Hermione from? My god... Charlie, what the hell have you done?!"

"It wasn't my choice, believe me," Charlie defended sadly, pulling his sleeve back down and rebuttoning the cufflink. "You must understand, I never wanted this. It happened in the summer, and it was far beyond my control... I couldn't stop them."

Elaina gasped, thinking the worst, "Y-Your father...?"

"Among many others, I assure you," Charlie nodded, slipping his jacket back on. When Elaina became uncharacteristically silent, Charlie was haste in his explanation, "I never would've join had I thought I had any other choice, believe me, but they were threatening the people I loved and I couldn't... I can't..."

He trailed off, his golden brown eyes began to stream tears down his cheeks, as memories of that night plagued his mind for the hundredth time. There was a moment in which Charlie had felt utterly alone, thinking that Elaina had probably ran off in a fright and his plan of telling the truth had gone horrible wrong, but was ultimately surprised when he felt a pair of arms wrap around him, enclosing him in a tight hug.

"Shhh, it's okay," came Elaina's soothing voice, as Charlie sobbed into her shoulder. "Charlie, it's gonna be okay, you just have to tell -"

"No, no, don't you understand?" Charlie panicked, pulling back from her embrace. "No one can know! You're the only one I've told... Elaina, please! My father will kill her if anyone finds out. Not to mention, no one will ever forgive me for what I've done -"

"I forgive you," whispered Elaina sincerely, looking at him with a mixture of sympathy and sadness. "I know who you truly are, and in my eyes, that mark on your arm doesn't change anything. Yes, it was a shock at first, but I know better than to ever think you'd be capable of doing that to Harry. If you don't want me to tell anyone, I won't, I promise. Calm down, please. It was foolish, but I only said that because I'm worried about you."

"I know, I'm sorry... I'm just scared," Charlie muttered, as a tear fell down his cheek. Elaina wrapped her arms around him and brought him into another hug.

"And for good reason," Elaina murmured, her hand gently rubbing his back. "But you don't have to worry anymore, okay? You're not alone... I'm here for you whenever you need me."

He nodded and buried his head into her shoulder, letting more tears fall. It amazed him, to say the least, how quickly the events of his annual trip to Hogsmeade had changed, as what had began lighthearted somehow turned into sinful confession. Regardless of how that may of came to be, however, Charlie felt significantly lighter as he pulled away, as though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

(A/N: if you know where this is from... you're an OG)

"Thank you," he smiled softly at Elaina, wiping the last few tears from his eyes. "I don't know what I would do without you here."

"Come on, I'm your best friend," shrugged Elaina, grinning. "It was no problem at all."

(A/N: #Charlaina vs #Charry... who will win?)

"Who said you were my best friend?" Charlie teased, finding the lightness in the situation once again as a smirk curled upon his lips. "I've got many other friends that might disagree with that."

Elaina playfully scoffed, "Okay fine, maybe I'm tied with Harry... but you damn well know I'm heaps better than Ron! And Hermione doesn't coun-"

"What about me?"

Startled at the interruption, Charlie's head snapped up, glancing guiltily at the sight before him. Hermione, Harry, and Ron stood before him, their cloaks drawn tightly around them, while their eyes wandered between the two people in question curiously.

"Oh, hey," greeted Elaina, playing the whole thing off effortlessly. "Funny, we were just talking about you lot."

"All good things I hope," muttered Harry timidly.

"Of course," beamed Elaina, and Harry's cheeks flushed a deeper crimson than they originally were from the coldness.

"Were we interrupting something?" Hermione asked curiously, shamefully avoiding Charlie's eyes.

"No, not all," answered Elaina, dismissing the notion. "Just a chat between friends, is all." She seemed to have put an emphasis on the word, which eased Hermione's worries slightly. "I was actually just about to head inside... Theo's probably waiting for me, but I'll see you guys back at school."

And with a quick wave goodbye, Elaina had grinned reassuringly at Charlie once more before rounding the corner and disappearing back into the Three Broomsticks.

"So, uh," said Charlie awkwardly, scratching behind his neck, "shall we call it a day and go back to school, then?"

The other three nodded; the weather was getting worse the longer they stayed, although, Charlie mused, the cold did not seem to affect him like it had earlier. Once again they rearranged their scarves, fixed their gloves, then walked out of the alley and back up the High Street. Hermione, also apparently reaping the benefits of Butterbeer, threw her arms out between her friends, one around Harry's shoulder, the other around Charlie's, as they walked.

The awkwardness felt at the Three Broomstick's now vanished, and they all smiled as the four of them followed after Katie Bell and a friend on their way back to school. Charlie's thoughts strayed to Elaina as they trudged up the road to Hogwarts through the frozen slush. He felt undoubtedly relieved at her reaction to his Dark Mark, and couldn't help but wonder if his other friends would feel the same one day. Although highly unlikely, he felt optimistic as he bowed his head against the swirling sleet and trudged on.

It was a little while before Charlie became aware that the voices of Katie Bell and her friend, which were being carried back to him on the wind, had become shriller and louder. Charlie squinted at their indistinct figures. The two girls were having an argument about something Katie was holding in her hand.

"It's nothing to do with you, Leanne!" Charlie heard Katie say.

They rounded a corner in the lane, sleet coming thick and fast, blurring Charlie's vision. Just as he raised a gloved hand to clear his eyes, Leanne went to grab hold of the package Katie was holding; Katie tugged it back and the package fell to the ground.

At once, Katie rose into the air, not as Ron and Charlie had done, suspended comically by the ankles, but gracefully, her arms outstretched, as though she was about to fly.

Yet there was something wrong, something eerie...

Her hair was whipped around her by the fierce wind, but her eyes were closed and her face was quite empty of expression. Charlie, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Leanne had all halted in their tracks, watching with the utmost curiosity.

Then, six feet above the ground, Katie let out a terrible scream. Her eyes flew open but whatever she could see, or whatever she was feeling, was clearly causing her terrible anguish. She screamed and screamed; Leanne started to scream too and seized Katie's ankles, trying to tug her back to the ground.

Charlie, Harry, Ron, and Hermione rushed forward to help, but as soon as they grabbed Katie's legs, she fell on top of them; Harry and Charlie managed to catch her but she was writhing so much they could hardly hold her. Instead they lowered her to the ground where she thrashed and screamed, apparently unable to recognize any of them.

His eyes wide, Charlie looked around; the landscape seemed deserted.

"Stay here!" he shouted at the others over the howling wind. "I'm going for help!"

He began to sprint toward the school; he had never seen anyone behave as Katie had just behaved and could not think what had caused it. He hurtled around a bend in the lane and collided with what seemed to be an enormous bear on its hind legs.

"Hagrid!" he panted, disentangling himself from the hedgerow into which he had fallen.

"Char!" beamed Hagrid, who had sleet trapped in his eyebrows and beard, and was wearing his great, shaggy beaverskin coat. "Jus' bin visitin' Grawp, he's comin' on so well yeh wouldn' -"

"Hagrid, someone's hurt back there, or cursed, or something -"

"Wha'?" said Hagrid, bending lower to hear what Charlie was saying over the raging wind.

"Someone's been cursed!" bellowed Charlie, pointing back the way he came.

"Cursed? Who's bin cursed - not Harry? Hermione? Ron...?"

"No, it's not any of them, it's Katie Bell - this way..."

Together they ran back along the lane. It took them little time to find the little group of people around Katie, who was still writhing and screaming on the ground; Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Leanne were all trying to quiet her.

"Get back!" shouted Hagrid, waving the group off. "Lemme see her!"

"Something's happened to her!" sobbed Leanne. "I don't know what -"

Hagrid stared at Katie for a second, then without a word, bent down, scooped her into his arms, and ran off toward the castle with her. Within seconds, Katie's piercing screams had died away and the only sound was the roar of the wind.

Hermione hurried over to Katie's wailing friend and put an arm around her.

"It's Leanne, isn't it?"

The girl nodded.

"Did it just happen all of a sudden, or - ?"

"It was when that package tore," explained Leanne, through anguished cries, pointing at the now sodden brown-paper package on the ground, which had split open to reveal a wickedly greenish glitter. Ron bent down, his hand outstretched, but Charlie seized his arm and pulled him back.

"Don't touch it, you idiot!"

He crouched down. An ornate opal necklace was visible, poking out of the paper.

"I've seen that before," muttered Harry, staring at the thing over Charlie's shoulder. "It was on display in Borgin and Burkes ages ago. The label said it was cursed. Katie must have touched it." He looked at Leanne, who had started to shake uncontrollably. "How did Katie get hold of this?"

"Well, that's why we were arguing. She came back from the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks holding it, said it was a surprise for somebody at Hogwarts and she had to deliver it. She looked all funny when she said it... Oh no, oh no, I bet she'd been Imperiused and I didn't realize!"

Leanne shook with renewed sobs. Hermione patted her shoulder gently, glancing to her friends for help.

"She didn't say who'd given it to her, Leanne?"

"No... she wouldn't tell me... I said she was being stupid and told her not to take it up to the school, but she just wouldn't listen and... and then I tried to grab it from her... and - and -"

Leanne let out a wail of despair.

"We'd better get up to the school," suggested Hermione, her arm still around Leanne. "We'll be able to find out how she is. Come on..."

Charlie hesitated for a moment, then pulled his scarf from around his face and, ignoring Ron's gasp, carefully covered the necklace in it and picked it up.

"We'll need to show this to Madame Pomfrey."

As they followed Hermione and Leanne up the road, Harry was thinking furiously. They had just entered the grounds when he spoke, unable to keep his thoughts to himself any longer.

"Malfoy knows about this necklace. It was in a case at Borgin and Burkes four years ago, I saw him having a good look at it while I was hiding from him and his dad. This is what he was buying that day when we followed him! He remembered it and he went back for it!"

"I-I dunno, Harry," gulped Ron hesitantly. "Loads of people go to Borgin and Burkes... and didn't that girl say Katie got it in the girls' bathroom?"

"She said she came back from the bathroom with it, she didn't necessarily get it in the bathroom-"

"McGonagall," Charlie hissed in warning, nudging his friend to shut up.

Sure enough, Professor McGonagall was hurrying down the stone steps through swirling sleet to meet them.

"Hagrid says you five saw what happened to Katie Bell - upstairs to my office at once, please! What's that you're holding, Hawthorne?"

"It's the thing she touched," explained Charlie, holding it out for her to see.

"Good Lord," gasped Professor McGonagall, looking alarmed as she took the necklace from Charlie. "No, no, Filch, they're coming with me!" she added hastily, as Filch came shuffling eagerly across the entrance hall holding his Secrecy Sensor aloft. "Take this necklace to Professor Snape at once, but be sure not to touch it, keep it wrapped in the scarf!"

Charlie and the others followed Professor McGonagall up the stairs and into her office. The sleet-spattered windows were rattling in their frames, and the room was chilly despite the fire crackling in the grate. Professor McGonagall closed the door and swept around her desk to face Charlie, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the still sobbing Leanne.

"Well?" she said sharply. "What happened?"

Haltingly, and with many pauses while she attempted to control her crying, Leanne told Professor McGonagall how Katie had gone to the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks and returned holding the unmarked package, how Katie had seemed a little odd, and how they had argued about the advisability of agreeing to deliver unknown objects; the argument culminating in the tussle over the parcel, which tore open. At this point, Leanne was so overcome, there was no getting another word out of her.

"All right," whispered Professor McGonagall, not unkindly, "go up to the hospital wing, please, Leanne, and get Madame Pomfrey to give you something to help with the shock."

When she had left the room, Professor McGonagall turned back to Charlie, Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"Why is it, when something happens, it is always you four?"

Charlie, Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at one another in silence.

"Believe me, Professor," frowned Ron, "I've been asking myself the same question for six years."

Not even hesitating, McGonagall forged on.

"What happened when Katie touched the necklace?"

"She rose up in the air," explained Harry, before anyone else had the chance to answer, "and then she began to scream, and then collapsed. Professor, can I go see Professor Dumbledore, please?"

"The Headmaster is away until Monday, Potter," said Professor McGonagall, looking surprised.

"Away?" Harry repeated angrily.

"Yes, Potter, away!" grunted Professor McGonagall tartly. "But anything you have to say about this horrible business can be said to me, I'm sure!"

For a split second, Harry hesitated, and Charlie tensed; this could not be good. Professor McGonagall did not invite confidences; Dumbledore, though in many ways more intimidating, still seemed less likely to scorn a theory, however wild. This was a life-and-death matter, though, and there was no moment to worry about being laughed at.

"I think Draco Malfoy gave Katie that necklace, Professor."

Charlie let out a small, audible groan of frustration. On one side of him, Ron rubbed his nose in apparent embarrassment; on the other, Hermione shuffled her feet as though quite keen to put a bit of distance between herself and Harry.

"That is a very serious accusation, Potter," blinked McGonagall, after a shocked pause. "Do you have any proof?"

"No," said Harry, "but..." and he told her about following Malfoy to Borgin and Burkes and the conversation they had overheard between him and Mr. Borgin.

When he had finished speaking, Professor McGonagall looked slightly confused.

"Malfoy took something to Borgin and Burkes for repair?"

"No, Professor, he just wanted Borgin to tell him how to mend something, he didn't have it with him. But that's not the point, the thing is that he bought something at the same time, and I think it was that necklace -"

"You saw Malfoy leaving the shop with a similar package?"

"No, Professor, he told Borgin to keep it in the shop for him -"

"But Harry," Hermione interrupted, "Borgin asked him if he wanted to take it with him, and Malfoy said no -"

"Because he didn't want to touch it, obviously!" countered Harry angrily.

"What he actually said was, 'How would I look carrying that down the street?'" Hermione reminisced, remembering their visit to Diagon Alley in the summer.

"Well, he would look a bit of a prat carrying a necklace," interjected Ron, grinning stupidly.

"Oh, Ron," sighed Hermione despairingly, shaking her head, "it would be all wrapped up, so he wouldn't have to touch it, and quite easy to hide inside a cloak, so nobody would see it! I think whatever he reserved at Borgin and Burkes was noisy or bulky, something he knew would draw attention to him if he carried it down the street."

"Malfoy could've sent off for it since then -"

"That's enough!" shouted Professor McGonagall, as Hermione opened her mouth to retort, looking furious. "Potter, I appreciate you telling me this, but we cannot point the finger of blame at Mr. Malfoy purely because he visited the shop where this necklace might have been purchased. The same is probably true of hundreds of people -"

"- that's what I said -" muttered Ron.

"- and in any case, we have put stringent security measures in place this year. I do not believe that necklace can possibly have entered this school without our knowledge -"

"But -"

"- and what is more," Professor McGonagall pressed on, with an air of awful finality, "Mr. Malfoy was not in Hogsmeade today."

Harry gaped at her, deflating.

"How do you know, Professor?"

"Because he was doing detention with me. He has now failed to complete his Transfiguration homework twice in a row. So, thank you for telling me your suspicions, Potter," she said as she marched past them, "but I need to go up to the hospital wing now to check on Katie Bell. Good day to you all."

She held open her office door. They had no choice but to file past her without another word.

Harry was angry with the other three for siding with McGonagall; nevertheless, he felt compelled to join in once they started discussing what had happened.

"So who do you reckon Katie was supposed to give the necklace to?" asked Charlie, as they climbed the stairs to the common room.

"Goodness only knows," shrugged Hermione. "But whoever it was has had a narrow escape. No one could have opened that package without touching the necklace."

"It could've been meant for loads of people," said Harry. "Dumbledore - the Death Eaters would love to get rid of him, he must be one of their top targets. Or Slughorn - Dumbledore reckons Voldemort really wanted him and they can't be pleased that he's sided with Dumbledore. Or -"

"Or you," suggested Hermione, looking troubled.

"Couldn't have been," dismissed Charlie, easing Hermione's worries, "or Katie would've just turned around in the lane and given it to Harry, wouldn't she? We were behind her all the way out of the Three Broomsticks. It would have made much more sense to deliver the parcel outside Hogwarts, what with Filch searching everyone who goes in and out."

"Charlie's right," nodded Harry, relentless in his attempts to frame Draco. "Hmm, I wonder why Malfoy told her to take it into the castle?"

"Harry, Malfoy wasn't in Hogsmeade!" yelled Hermione, actually stamping her foot in frustration.

"He must have used an accomplice, then," suggested Harry, shrugging. "Crabbe or Goyle - or, come to think of it, another Death Eater, he'll have loads better cronies than Crabbe and Goyle now that he's joined up -"

"Honestly, enough," snapped Charlie, rather harshly. "Why can't you just let this go? Your obsession with this is getting bloody ridiculous. Contrary to your belief, I don't think Malfoy's got loads of his Death Eater pals roaming about. So, quit pointing that finger around until you start to actually support your claim with facts."

"We all saw him in Borgin and Burkes," rebutted Harry, flaring up again. "How can you not see that he's become one of them? He's got 'Death Eater' practically written across his fucking forehead!"

"And so what if he does?" Charlie countered, oddly coming to Malfoy's defence. "Still, you have no proof. Besides, even if Malfoy was a Death Eater, how are you so sure that he became one willingly?"

"Uh, have you met Draco Malfoy?" exclaimed Harry, dumbfounded, looking to Hermione and Ron for help, who did nothing more than shrug. "He's been tormenting us for years! Not to mention, his father is a Death Eater -"

"Right, and how do you reckon that theory applies to me?" growled Charlie, unaware where this newfound rage stemmed from. "My father's a Death Eater too, and yet, you're not pointing your finger in my direction."

Harry blinked, perplexed, "Maybe that's because you're my best friend, you stupid git!"

"Exactly my point," muttered Charlie stubbornly. "I'm your friend, and he's your enemy. Meaning, this newfound 'certainty' you have regarding the true loyalties of Draco Malfoy stem from nothing more than a school-boy rivalry."

"It has nothing to do with that," defended Harry, sounding a little betrayed. "I know what I saw! And honestly, I can't believe you're defending that slick haired spanner."

"I'm not defending him," countered Charlie, heaving a heavy sigh. "I just know what it feels like when people judge you based on the reputation of your father. It's called the benefit of the doubt. Besides, Malfoy hasn't exactly been bothering us lately, has he? So, why should we complain?"

"Because he's a fucking Death Eater," scoffed Harry, his jaw clenched. Charlie balked, dumbfounded that Harry had yet to back down.

He went to open his mouth in rebuttal once more, but Hermione stopped him, stepping in between the two heated best friends.

"Okay, that's enough," she intervened at last. Hermione and Charlie exchanged a look that plainly said, "There's no point arguing with him."

Suppressing his thoughts of retribution, Charlie nodded slowly, giving into Hermione's pleading eyes. He turned around, and continued to lead the way down the corridor.

"Dilligrout," he muttered firmly, as they reached the Fat Lady.

The portrait swung open to admit them to the common room. It was quite full and smelled of damp clothing; many people seemed to have returned from Hogsmeade early because of the bad weather. There was no buzz of fear or speculation, however; clearly, the news of Katie's fate had not yet spread.

"It wasn't a very slick attack, really, when you stop and think about it," said Ron, casually turfing a first year out of one of the good armchairs by the fire so that he could sit down. "The curse didn't even make it into the castle. Not what you'd call foolproof."

"You're right," agreed Hermione, prodding Ron out of the chair with her foot and offering it to the first year again. "It wasn't very well thought-out at all."

"But since when has Malfoy been one of the world's great thinkers?" asked Harry, infuriating his friends all over again.

Charlie refused to answer this question, and instead, sprawled out on the common room couch with a heavy sigh.

It had been such a long day.

-------------------

Author's Note:
*this chapter was not proof read*

next few chapters are gonna be so much fun 😈

but the question is, are you ready?

[insert asking for votes and comments]

much love to you all ❤️

xo, Selena

p.s. check out this alternate cover for 'The Boy Who Loved' by chyler-