CHAPTER FIVE:

Third Person P.O.V.:

Rattling and swaying, the carriage moved up the road. When they passed between the tall stone pillars topped with winged boars on either side of the gates to the school grounds, Charlie leaned forward to try and see whether there were any lights on in Hagrid's cabin by the Forbidden Forest, but the grounds were in complete darkness.

Hogwarts Castle, however, loomed ever closer. A towering mass of turrets, jet black against the dark sky, and yet, every other window blazed fiery bright above them.

The carriage jingled to a halt near the stone steps leading up to the oak front doors and Charlie got out after Hermione and Ron. He turned again to look for lit windows down by the Forest, but there was definitely no sign of life within Hagrid's cabin. Unwillingly, because he had half-hoped they would have vanished, he turned his eyes upon the strange, skeletal creatures standing quietly in the chill night air, their blank white eyes gleaming.

His mind still raced with thoughts about the reptilian-like horses. If Luna was to be believed, the beasts had always been there but invisible. Why, then, could he and Harry suddenly see them, and why could Ron and Hermione not?

"Are you coming or what?" Ron called from beside him, urging him forward with the rest of the group.

Charlie said nothing, but instead slowly followed behind Hermione and Luna as they led the boys, up the stone steps into the castle, to join the crowd.

The Entrance Hall was ablaze with torches and echoing with footsteps as the students crossed the stone floor to reach the double doors that lead to the Great Hall and the start-of-term feast.

The four long house tables in the Great Hall were filling under the starless black ceiling. Candles floated in midair all along the tables, illuminating the silvery ghosts who were dotting about the Hall and the faces of the students talking eagerly, exchanging summer news, shouting greetings at friends from other houses, eyeing one another's new haircuts and robes.

Again, Charlie noticed people lowering their heads to whisper as he and Harry passed; he gritted his teeth and tried to act as though he neither noticed nor cared, and even had to urge his friend with glasses forward to stop him from making a scene.

Luna drifted away from them as they passed the Ravenclaw table. Charlie, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville found seats together about halfway down the table between Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, and Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown. Charlie seemed to ignore the overly-friendly greetings of his friends who he hadn't seen all summer, however, as he was preoccupied looking over the students' heads to the staff table that ran along the top wall of the Hall.

"He's not there."

Harry, Ron and Hermione scanned the staff table too, though there was no real need; Hagrid's size made him instantly obvious in any lineup.

"He couldn't have left," said Ron, sounding slightly anxious.

Harry shook his head at once, "Of course not."

"You don't think he's... hurt, or anything, do you?" said Hermione uneasily.

"No," Charlie said flatly, though panic was evident in his voice. "He can't be."

Ron raised a brow at his friend, "Where is he then?"

There was a pause, then Harry said very quietly, so that Neville, Parvati and Lavender could not hear, "Maybe he's not back yet. You know - from his mission - the thing he was doing over the summer for Dumbledore."

"Yeah... yeah, that'll be it," said Charlie, sounding reassured, but Hermione bit her lip, looking up and down the staff table as though hoping for some conclusive explanation of Hagrid's absence.

"Who's that?" she said sharply, pointing towards the middle of the staff table.

Charlie's eyes followed hers. They lit first upon his grandfather, sitting in his high-backed golden chair at the centre of the long staff table, wearing deep-purple robes scattered with silvery stars and a matching hat. Dumbledore's head was inclined towards the woman sitting next to him, who was talking into his ear.

From what Charlie could see, she looked oddly familiar; squat, with short, curly, mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a horrible pink hat on top that matched the fluffy pink cardigan she wore over her robes. Then she turned her face slightly to take a sip from her goblet and he saw, with a shock of recognition, a pallid, toadlike face and a pair of prominent, pouchy eyes.

"Oh no," Charlie muttered, his eyes widening. "You've got to be bloody joking..."

"What?" Hermione said, snapping her head towards her boyfriend at once. "Charlie, what is it?"

However, before Charlie could even open his mouth, Harry answered for him, "It's that Umbridge woman!"

Hermione furrowed her brows, "Who?"

"She was at my hearing," snapped Harry, getting angry at the mere sight of the toad-like woman.

"She works for my father," Charlie said bitterly, narrowing his eyes towards the staff table. "She's his Senior Undersecretary."

"She works for the Minister?" Hermione repeated, frowning. "What's she doing here, then?"

Charlie shrugged, appearing unbothered, but on the inside, he felt incredibly anxious all of a sudden. The day of Harry's hearing was replaying on a loop in his head, his father's remarks echoing loudly:

She's most delighted to get to know all about you during your upcoming year at Hogwarts.

You'll have to keep a lookout, Madame Secretary.

Perhaps you'll be the one to report to me about everything that my son gets up to in the new year.

I told you I'd keep a close eye on you...

Charlie shook his head, trying to rid it of his father's haunted voice.

When his father mentioned the Undersecretary coming to Hogwarts, Charlie simply assumed that she would be making weekly visits, but he hadn't even fathomed the idea that she could potentially be staying for the entirety of the year.

What would she even be doing at Hogwarts? Surely, she wouldn't be teaching, there were no positions to be filled... wait -

It was as if Hermione had read the boy's mind because she scanned the staff table; her eyes narrowing as she muttered, "No... no, surely not..."

Charlie sunk into his seat, horrific revelation flashed across his face as the doors of the Great Hall opened. A long line of scared-looking first-years entered, led by Professor McGonagall, who was carrying a stool and the Sorting Hat. The buzz of talk in the Great Hall faded away. The first-years lined up in front of the staff table facing the rest of the students, and Professor McGonagall placed the stool carefully in front of them, then stood back.

The whole school waited with bated breath. Then the rip near the hat's brim opened wide like a mouth and the Sorting Hat burst into song:

In times of old when I was new
And Hogwarts barely started
The founders of our noble school
Thought never to be parted:
United by a common goal,
They had the selfsame yearning,
To make the world's best magic school
And pass along their learning.

Slytherin took the pureblood kind
Of great cunning, just like him,
And only those of sharpest mind
Were taught by Ravenclaw
While the bravest and the boldest
Went to daring Gryffindor.
Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest,
And taught them all she knew,
Thus the houses and their founders
Retained friendships firm and true.

Now the Sorting Hat is here
And you all know the score:
I sort you into houses
Because that is what I'm for,
But this year I'll go further,
Listen closely to my song:
Though condemned I am to split you
Still I worry that it's wrong,
Though I must fulfil my duty
And must quarter every year
Still I wonder whether Sorting
May not bring the end I fear.

Oh, know the perils, read the signs,
The warning history shows,
For our Hogwarts is in danger
From external, deadly foes
And we must unite inside her
Or we'll crumble from within
I have told you, I have warned you...
Let the Sorting now begin.

The Hat became motionless once more; applause broke out, though it was punctured with muttering and whispers. All across the Great Hall, students were exchanging remarks with their neighbours, and Charlie, clapping along with everyone else, knew exactly what they were talking about.

"Branched out a bit this year, hasn't it?" said Ron, his eyebrows raised.

Harry looked puzzled, "That's an understatement..."

"I wonder if it's ever given warnings before?" inquired Hermione, sounding slightly anxious.

"Yes, indeed," said Nearly Headless Nick knowledgeably, leaning across Neville towards her, "The Hat feels itself honour-bound to give the school warnings whenever it -"

But Professor McGonagall, who was waiting to read out the list of first-years' names, was giving the whispering students the sort of look that scorches. Nearly Headless Nick placed a see-through finger to his lips and sat primly upright again as the muttering came to an abrupt end. With a last frowning look that swept the lour house tables, Professor McGonagall lowered her eyes to her long piece of parchment and called out the first name.

"Abercrombie, Euan."

"Gryffindor!"

The Gryffindor table clapped loudly as Euan Abercrombie staggered to their table and sat down, looking as though he would like very much to sink through the floor and never be looked at again.

Slowly, the long line of first-years thinned. In the pauses between the names and the Sorting Hat's decisions, Charlie could hear Ron's stomach rumbling loudly. Then as, "Zeller, Rose" was sorted into Hufflepuff, the whole of the Great Hall sighed in relief. However, it wasn't long before nearly everyone furrowed their brows in confusion as McGonagall remained at the front with the Sorting Hat.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she bellowed, and Charlie's ears perked up, "it is with great honour that I introduce you to the first transfer student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Miss Elaina Dumont...

The Great Hall doors opened once again and Elaina Dumont walked proudly down the middle isle, heads turning upon her entrance which was reminiscent of her arrival with the Beauxbatons last year. Elaina scanned the room before meeting Charlie's gaze and giving him a small smile, much to Hermione's jealous glare.

(A/N: back by popular demand... 😉)

"...Miss Dumont will be joining us from the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic under Minister Hawthorne's new transfer program, Magical Cooperation. She will be joining the fifth years in their studies, and we ask that you all welcome her with opens arms - now, for her Sorting..."

By the time McGonagall had finished her speech, Elaina had made it to the stool. She sat down and the Sorting Hat was instantly placed upon her head. It was then that Ron had nudged Charlie from across the table and the brown eyed boy turned with a raised brow.

"Oi," he whispered, wiggling his eyebrows, "bet you'd love it if she was in Gryffindor, eh?"

"No, he wouldn't," Hermione snapped at once before her boyfriend could even open his mouth.

Ron shifted his gaze towards the bushy haired girl, his eyes narrowing in confusion, "And how would you know?"

"I, uh -"

She was cut off as the Sorting Hat, which had considered its decision for a moment, shouted, "Slytherin!"

(A/N: c'mon, let's be honest, Elaina radiates bad bitch Slytherin vibes...)

There was a loud cheer and round of applause from the Slytherin table as Elaina moved towards them. The rest of the house tables broke out into murmurs of disappointment.

However, Hermione sighed out in relief, muttering, "Oh, thank god."

Having heard this, Charlie linked their hands underneath the table, and gave her hand a squeeze for reassurance while also trying to fight the teasing smile that curled onto his lips. Hermione, noticing this, gave her boyfriend a hard kick on the shin to which he laughed, but played it off as though he were laughing at Ron, who had been stuffing his mouth with the magically-appeared food in front of him.

"As I was saying," continued Nearly Headless Nick, who seemed to be looking for a reason to turn away from Ron, who was eating roast potatoes with almost indecent enthusiasm. "Yes, I have heard the Hat give several warnings before, always at times when it detects periods of great danger for the school. And always, of course, its advice is the same: stand together, be strong from within."

"So, what? The Hat wants all of the Houses to be friends?" Harry inquired, looking over at the Slytherin table, where Draco Malfoy was fawning all over newcomer, Elaina Dumont. "Fat chance."

"Well, now, you shouldn't take that attitude," said Nick reprovingly before focusing in on Charlie. "Peaceful cooperation, that's the key - isn't that what your father is trying to instil?"

Charlie sighed, muttering, "Yeah, I suppose that's his new gimmick..."

"That's what I thought," said Nearly Headless Nick before rising into the air, straightening his hat, and sweeping away from them to the other end of the table, coming to rest between the Creevey brothers, Collin and Dennis.

When all the students had finished eating and the noise level in the Hall was starting to creep upwards again, Dumbledore got to his feet. Talking ceased immediately as all turned to face the Headmaster. Charlie was feeling pleasantly drowsy now as he half-listened to his grandfather's welcome speech; his four-poster bed was waiting somewhere above, wonderfully warm and soft...

"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices," addressed Dumbledore. "We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be teaching Care of Magical Creatures. We are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was a round of polite but fairly unenthusiastic applause, during which Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged slightly panicked looks as Charlie suddenly snapped his head to the staff table in alarm - this could not be happening... no Hagrid... Umbridge teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts...

Dumbledore continued, "Tryouts for the house Quidditch teams will take place on the -"

He broke off, looking enquiringly at Professor Umbridge who had stood up and moved to the podium. As everyone looked slightly confused, Dumbledore raised a brow to which Umbridge cleared her throat, "hem, hem," and it became clear that she was intending to make a speech.

Dumbledore only looked taken aback for a moment, then he sat down, looking alertly at Professor Umbridge as though he desired nothing more than to listen to her talk. Other members of the staff were not as adept at hiding their surprise. Professor Sprout's eyebrows had disappeared into her flyaway hair and Professor McGonagall's mouth was as thin as ever; no one interrupts Dumbledore - this woman obviously did not know how things were done at Hogwarts...

"Thank you, Headmaster," Professor Umbridge simpered, "for those kind words of welcome."

Her voice was high-pitched, breathy and little-girlish, just like Charlie remembered it being. She hadn't said more than ten words to him at Harry's hearing, but still, Charlie felt a powerful rush of dislike that he could not explain to himself; all he knew was that he loathed everything about her, from her stupid voice to her fluffy pink cardigan.

And he wasn't the only one - Harry glared at her continuously as she gave another throat-clearing cough, "hem, hem," and continued.

"Well, it is lovely to be here at Hogwarts, I must say!" She smiled, revealing very pointed teeth. "And to see such happy little faces looking up at me!"

Charlie glanced around. None of the faces he could see looked happy. On the contrary, they all looked rather taken aback at being addressed as though they were five years old.

"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!" Umbridge said brightly, but had somehow, found Charlie in the crowd and focused her gaze on him with a wicked smile.

Charlie muttered, slightly uneasy, "Yeah, that's likely..."

"I am here at the Ministry's bequest, under Educational Decree 22, which states that if the Headmaster or Headmistress of Hogwarts is unable to fill any teaching post, the Minister shall select one for the position..."

Dumbledore inclined his head towards his grandson for the first time with a sorrowful gaze. Charlie lowered his head as the Great Hall broke out into murmurs and they all turned in his direction at the mention of his father. Hermione squeezed his hand reassuringly under the table as Umbridge continued.

"...The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance, you see. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills amassed by our ancestors must be passed down, guarded, replenished and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching..."

Professor Umbridge paused here and made a little bow to her fellow staff members, none of whom bowed back to her. Professor McGonagall's dark eyebrows had contracted, and raising his head, Charlie distinctly saw her exchange a wary glance with Professor Sprout as Umbridge gave another little "hem, hem" and went on with her speech.

"...without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation..."

Charlie found his attentiveness ebbing, as though his brain was slipping in and out of tune. The quiet that always filled the Hall when Dumbledore was speaking, was breaking up as students put their heads together, whispering and giggling. Opposite him, Charlie could see that Harry had completely given up on listening, and instead was sharing gazes with Ginny down that table - weird...

Professor Umbridge did not seem to notice the restlessness of her audience. Charlie had the impression that a full-scale riot could have broken out and she would have ploughed on with her speech. The teachers, however, were still listening very attentively, and Hermione seemed to be drinking in every word Umbridge spoke, though, judging by her expression, they were not at all to her taste.

"...because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognised as errors of judgement. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."

She sat down finally, and Dumbledore clapped, the rest of the staff reluctantly following his lead. A few students joined in, but most had been taken unaware by the end of the speech, not having listened to more than a few words of it, and before they could start applauding properly, Dumbledore had stood up again.

"Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating," he said, bowing to her. "Now, as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held..."

Hermione spoke in a low whisper, "Yes, it certainly was illuminating."

"You're not telling me you enjoyed it?" Ron said quietly, turning a glazed face towards Hermione. "That was about the dullest speech I've ever heard, and I grew up with Percy!"

"I said illuminating, not enjoyable," defended Hermione. "It explained a lot."

"Did it?" Harry said in surprise, turning his head away from Ginny. "Sounded like a load of waffle to me."

"There was some important stuff hidden in the waffle," said Hermione grimly before turning to her boyfriend, "Help me out here."

"Can't," Charlie said through a fake yawn, "swore I fell asleep halfway through. Missed the lot of it... what a shame."

Ron and Harry began to snigger, but Hermione, who didn't find this nearly as funny, kicked Charlie under the table again.

A cocky smile made its way on to Charlie's lips as he peered as his girlfriend playfully, "Why don't you tell me what I missed?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Hermione said gently to which Charlie gulped, unaware of what was to come out of her mouth. "The Ministry's interfering at Hogwarts."

"Right... yeah," Charlie said softly, his mood changing instantly as he unlinked his hand from under the table, causing Hermione to frown.

There was a great clattering and banging all around them; Dumbledore had obviously just dismissed the school, because everyone was standing up ready to leave the Hall.

Charlie stood up from his seat abruptly, looking at Hermione who stared at up at him instantly, "C'mon, we're supposed to show the first-years where to go."

"R-right," Hermione stuttered, slightly disappointed that her boyfriend wasn't addressing his sudden change in behaviour. Nonetheless, she stood up and called commandingly along the table, "First years! This way, please!"

A group of new students walked shyly up the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, all of them trying hard not to lead the group.

"We'll see you guys later," Charlie muttered to Ron and Harry before following Hermione out of the Great Hall with the first-years, doing everything he could to ignore the whispering, staring and pointing as he passed.

In all fairness, everyone's curiosity was well justified. After all, he had only emerged from the Triwizard maze two months previous, clutched in the arms of Harry Potter and presumed dead by the hands of Lord Voldemort...

The Gryffindor first years followed Charlie and Hermione through the chattering crowds and up the marble staircase. As Prefects, they were obligated to show the new students the way to the common room by the maneuvering staircases, as opposed to the various other ways of getting to Gryffindor Tower; it was described as a more scenic route.

"This way!" bellowed Hermione from the front of the group, "Just a little further!"

Her and Charlie led the first-years through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet when they all came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as Charlie took a step toward them, they started throwing themselves at him.

"Peeves," Charlie whispered to the first years with a slight chuckle. "A poltergeist."

He then raised his voice in a sing-song, "Peeves - come out, come out, where ever you are!"

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered to which Charlie sighed dramatically.

"Do you want me to go get the Bloody Baron?"

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross- legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.

"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"

He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.

"Don't go scaring them, Peeves, or I'll tell the Bloody Baron," warned Charlie in a playful manner.

"Aw, that's no fun!" Peeves pretended to pout before catching a glimpse of the badge on Charlie's robes, "Well, look-y, look-y! Little Char is all grown up! Perfect Prefect! BRAVO! BRAVA!"

Then, Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Euan Abercrombie's head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed.

"You want to watch out for Peeves," giggled Hermione, as they set off again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us Prefects - here we are."

At the very end of the deserted corridor hung the portrait of the Fat Lady, who beamed at the first years before saying, "Password?"

"Mimbuius Mimbletonia," said Hermione, and the portrait swung forward to reveal the familiar, circular hole in the wall.

"In you go," Hermione called, urging the first-years forward as her and Charlie stood at the door. "Girls, you'll find your dormitories up the stairs to your right, and boys, the same thing on your left! If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask Charlie and I - welcome to Hogwarts!"

And with her words, a sense of relief had visibly washed over the faces of the first-years as they climbed through the portrait hole, leaving Charlie and Hermione in the hallway.

As the brown eyed boy went to climb through the common room entrance, Hermione caught him on the arm, forcing him to turn around and look at her, his eyes radiating confusion; the Fat Lady portrait closed again.

"Everything okay?"

"Funny," Hermione said in a low, accusingly voice, "I was just about to ask you the same question."

Charlie smiled playfully, trying to lighten the mood, "That's the only question you seem to ask me nowadays."

"Yeah, and with good reason," Hermione defended gently, caressing the boy's arm with a sigh. "You've been acting out of character lately, and I'm worried that -"

"You're always worried about me," Charlie interjected with a laugh, stepping forward to caress her cheek with his hand which she cuddled into, instantly willing to accept his explanation. "I'm fine, okay? I'm just a little stressed out with everything going on. My grandfather is never around, Hagrid's gone, my father sent that horrifically pink, toad-like woman to come and teach -"

"Charlie!" Hermione scolded playfully, stifling a giggle, trying her hardest to sound stern. "Be nice!"

"I was being nice," Charlie said with a raised brow and a playful smile. "I could use other words to describe that woman if you'd like..."

"You're such a prat," Hermione said with an amused sigh, then she looked around the corridor, as if making sure the coast was clear, before leaning in for a quick snog. "My prat," she added in low, teasing whisper as their lips were about to meet.

She was confused, however, when Charlie pulled back, avoiding her lips. Hermione furrowed her brows at him as a frown appeared on her face.

Charlie smiled apologetically before leaning down to whisper in her ear, "The portraits like to gossip."

The two of them instantly turned back towards the Fat Lady who was smirking down at them as though waiting for something to happen.

"Oh, don't mind me," she said coyly, "I'm just a spectator..."

"Of course you are," Charlie said amusingly. "Well, then watch this -"

In a matter of seconds, Charlie had leaned down to place a soft, sweet, and lingering peck on his girlfriend's cheek to which the Fat Lady gasped in excitement.

Then, through Hermione's fit of amused giggles caused by the portrait's reaction, Charlie linked their hands and pulled his girlfriend through the common room door after gasping exasperatedly and yelling, "What a scandal!"

Charlie and Hermione's laughter was short-lived, however, as seconds after they stepped into the common room, they heard a heated argument coming from around the corner.

"You-Know-Who can't be back," came Seamus' intense voice, "if he was, do you honestly believe that he would have left Char breathing?! No! If he was back, Charlie wouldn't have almost died - he definitely would have!"

Hermione's eyes widened in horror. The memories of that night flooding her head for the fiftieth time upon mention, to which she had to hold back tears. Charlie, noticing this and trying to ignore his own anger at the belittlement of what he had went through, squeezed her hand as another voice broke out in retort.

"You're an absolute twat," came Harry's voice. "You've been reading the Daily Prophet like your stupid mother, haven't you? Bet its told you all you need to know - how dare you try to diminish the seriousness of what Charlie and I went through."

"Don't you dare have a go at my mother like that," snapped Seamus. "Or me for that matter!"

"I'll have a go at anyone who calls me a liar," said Harry, his voice rising in anger.

"Seamus," came Ron's pleading voice, "You're bang out of order, mate..."

"Out of order, am I?!" Seamus said, sounding particularly taken aback, "I'm defending me mam!"

Charlie thought this was a good time to make his presence known, so he moved around the corner with Hermione, unlinking their hands before anyone caught sight of them.

"What's going on?"

His wide eyes travelled from Harry, who was standing at the stairs with his wand pointed at Seamus, to Seamus, who was standing there with his fists raised, to Ron, who stood there looking panicked, to the rest of common room full of shocked spectators.

"He's having a go at my mother!" Seamus yelled.

"Yeah," Harry spat in anger, "because she believes every word the stinking Daily Prophet writes about us!"

"He's mad!" Seamus snapped, pointing at Harry before turning to Charlie, "You believe all the rubbish he's come out with about You-Know-Who, do you?"

"Yeah, I do," Charlie said at once, his jaw clenched in anger which took Seamus by surprise. "I mean, I almost died after all, isn't that what you said?"

Seamus scoffed in disgust, "Then you're mad, too!"

"Is that right?" Charlie challenged, stepping forward, before pointing to the badge on his robes, "Well, unfortunately for you, mate, I'm also a Prefect. So, unless you want to spend the next week in detention, shut your mouth, will you?"

Seamus looked as though detention would be a reasonable price to pay to say what was going through his mind; but with a moment of hesitation, he remained still and quiet, crossing his arms in defeat. Charlie watched Seamus with a glare before turning to the rest of the crowd, who watched him with wide eyes.

"Anyone else got a problem with Harry?" he said aggressively. "Or myself for that matter?"

No one said anything. The room fell into an uncomfortable silence as Harry turned on his heel and stormed up the stairs to the dormitories with such violence that the paintings on the wall shook.

Charlie sighed, rubbing his eyes in frustration before sharing a look with Ron, subconsciously agreeing to go after their friend. The brown eyed boy looked around the room again, meeting Hermione's gaze and giving her a small, reassuring smile before walking after Ron, who had already ascended the staircase.

"Oh, by the way," Charlie said abruptly from the stairs, turning his head to look at Seamus one last time with a righteous smirk, "I did die. For a couple minutes, I know, but I still think that counts, don't you?" Finding humour in watching Seamus's face fall, Charlie added, "And while we're on the topic, You-Know-Who's face is a lot scarier in person..."

Leaving the entire room in shock, Charlie retreated to his dormitory without another word. He could hear the faint voices of Harry and Ron as he approached the door. Opening it slightly, Harry's voice rang out in a tone of frustration.

"I said, I'm fine, Ron!"

Stepping into the room, Charlie shared a confused glance with Ron, who simply shrugged. The Gryffindor Prefect turned towards Harry, watching warily as his shoulders moved up and down as he breathed harshly.

"Right," Ron said gently, moving to his four-poster, "We'll just leave you to your thoughts then."

Ron got into his bed, rolled over and fell silent. Harry moved to his bed in a huff before pulling the curtains tightly shut behind him. Charlie walked to his section of the room and quickly got changed before laying down with a sigh. He fell, shaken by the argument with Seamus, whom he had always liked very much.

Everyone was bound to believe him and Harry sooner or later, but he wondered how many more attacks like Seamus's he would have to endure before that time came...

Charlie extinguished the last candle in the dormitory, engulfing the room in darkness.

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

"What happened last night?" asked Hermione, catching up with Charlie, Harry and Ron halfway across the common room as they all headed down for breakfast. "You look absolutely - oh for heavens sake."

She was staring at the common-room noticeboard, where a large new sign had been put up.

GALLONS OF GALLEONS!
Pocket money failing to keep pace with your outgoings?
Like to earn a little extra gold?
Contact Fred and George Weasley, Gryffindor common room, for simple, part-time, virtually painless jobs.

"They are the limit," said Hermione grimly, taking down the sign, which Fred and George had pinned up over a poster giving the date of the first Hogsmeade weekend, which was to be in October. "We'll have to talk to them, Charlie."

Charlie raised a brow, "Why?"

"Because we're Prefects!" exclaimed Hermione, as they climbed out through the portrait hole. "It's up to us to stop this kind of thing!"

"Oh come off it," Charlie laughed. "It's Fred and George - they're harmless!"

"Anyway, what happened?" Hermione continued with a slight roll of her eyes at her boyfriend, as they walked down a flight of stairs lined with portraits of old witches and wizards. "You guys look cross."

"Seamus still thinks Char and Harry are lying about You-Know-Who," said Ron succinctly, when Harry or Charlie did not respond.

Hermione, who Charlie had expected to react angrily on his behalf, sighed.

"Yes, Lavender thinks so too," she said gloomily.

"Been having a nice little chat with her about whether or not I'm a lying, attention-seeking prat, have you?" Harry said loudly, harsher than intended.

"Oi," Charlie interjected, his eyes narrowing in Harry's direction, "watch that tone, will you?"

"No," said Hermione calmly, trying not to swoon over her boyfriend's immediate protectiveness over her. "I told her to keep her big fat mouth shut about you, actually. And it would be quite nice if you stopped jumping down our throats, Harry, because in case you haven't noticed, Charlie, Ron and I are on your side."

There was a short pause.

"Sorry," said Harry in a low voice.

"That's quite all right," said Hermione with dignity. Then she shook her head. "Don't you remember what Dumbledore said at the last end-of-term feast?"

Charlie, Harry and Ron both looked at her blankly and Hermione sighed again.

"About You-Know-Who." she said simply, "Dumbledore said his 'gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust -'"

"How do you remember stuff like that?" asked Ron, looking at her in admiration.

"I listen, Ron," said Hermione, with a touch of asperity.

"So do I -"

Charlie laughed, "No, you don't."

The ginger sent a glare in his friend's direction, but Charlie couldn't tell if it was because of his comment or because of something else -

"The point," Hermione pressed on loudly, "is that this sort of thing is exactly what Dumbledore was talking about. You-Know-Who's only been back two months and we've already started fighting amongst ourselves. Then there's the Sorting Hat's warning and it was the same: stand together, be united -"

"And Harry got it right last night," retorted Ron. "If that means we're supposed to get matey with the Slytherins - fat chance."

"Well, I think it's a pity we're not trying for a bit of inter-house unity," said Hermione crossly.

Before any of the boys could respond, a tall black girl with long braided hair had marched up to Harry and Charlie as the core four reached the Great Hall.

"Hi Angelina."

"Hi! Good summer?" she said briskly, not waiting for an answer before continuing. "Listen, I've been made Gryffindor Quidditch Captain."

"Nice one," said Charlie, grinning at her.

"Yeah, well, we need a new Keeper now that Oliver's left. Tryouts are on Friday at five o'clock and I want the whole team there, alright? Then we can see how the new person'll fit in."

"Okay," said Harry flatly.

Charlie agreed, "We'll be there."

Angelina smiled at them and departed, rushing off to find the rest of the Gryffindor team. The core four proceeded into the Great Hall for breakfast before their morning classes. It was about an hour later when they had set off for History of Magic.

History of Magic was, by common consent, the most boring subject ever devised by wizardkind. Charlie, Harry and Ron had so far managed to scrape passes in this subject only by copying Hermione's notes before exams; she alone seemed able to resist the soporific power of Professor Binns's voice. Today, they suffered an hour and a half, droning on the subject of giant wars to which Charlie dozed off halfway through.

Next was Potions. Just as anyone could have predicted, Professor Snape set his students up to produce the most difficult, fiddly potion for their first day back. The Draught of Peace single handily had the most complex ingredients with the most intricate hand movements. By the end of the lesson, everyone was either seething in annoyance or sweating from the amount of work.

After spending the lunch period catching up with his friends, Charlie headed to Arithmancy with Hermione as Ron and Harry set off for Divination. Professor Vector had jumped right into predicting the future with numbers as well as tying in a bit of numerology as well. Arithmancy was Hermione's favourite class, so naturally, Charlie found the enjoyment in the subject simply by watching his girlfriend's face light up.

When the bell went once again, Charlie and Hermione caught up with Harry and Ron on the way to the last class of the day, Defence Against the Dark Arts.

"D'you realise how much homework we've got already?" Ron grumbled as they walked. "Binns set us a foot-and-a-half-long essay on giant wars, Snape wants a foot on the use of moonstones, and now we've got a month's dream diary from Trelawney! That Umbridge woman had better not give us any."

When they entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom they found Professor Umbridge already seated at the teachers desk, wearing the same fluffy pink cardigan from the night before and a black velvet bow on top of her head.

Charlie groaned loudly as he took in the sight of her, "God help us all..."

Hermione, stifling a laugh, was quick to pull her boyfriend to their shared desk; Umbridge watching their interaction closely as they moved. The rest of the class was quiet as they entered the room; Professor Umbridge was an unknown quantity and nobody knew how strict and disciplinarian she was likely to be.

"Well, good afternoon!" she beamed, when the whole class had finally sat down.

A few people mumbled "good afternoon" in reply, but Charlie wasn't one of them.

"Tut, tut," said Professor Umbridge. "That won't do, now, will it? I would like you, please, to reply, 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.' One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," they chanted back at her, but again, Charlie did nothing, not wanting to give the horrid woman the satisfaction.

"There, now," said Professor Umbridge sweetly. "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please."

Many of the class exchanged gloomy looks; the words 'wands away' had never been followed by a lesson they had found interesting. Charlie shoved his wand back inside his bag reluctantly and pulled out his quill, ink and parchment.

Professor Umbridge opened her handbag, extracted her own wand, which was an unusually short one, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board at once:

Ordinary Wizarding Level Examinations.

"More commonly known as OWLs." Umbridge beamed. "Study hard and you will be rewarded. Fail to do so, and the consequences may be... severe - has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

There was a dull murmur throughout the class.

"I think we'll try that again," demanded Professor Umbridge. "When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply, 'Yes, Professor Umbridge', or 'No, Professor Umbridge'. So, has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?'

"Yes, Professor Umbridge," rang through the room.

"Good," beamed Professor Umbridge. "Your previous instruction in this subject has been disturbingly uneven. But you'll be pleased to know, from now on, you will be following a carefully structured, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic -"

She trailed off as she noticed Hermione waving her her hand in the air. Umbridge cleared her throat, narrowing her gaze at the bushy haired girl as she said, "Yes?"

"I've got a query about to course aims," said Hermione gently, being mindful of offending the teacher.

Umbridge raised her brows in curiousity, eyeing the close proximity to which Hermione sat next to Charlie, "And your name is?"

"Hermione Granger."

"Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear," said Professor Umbridge in a voice of determined sweetness.

"Well, I don't," said Hermione bluntly, gesturing towards her textbook; Charlie had to hide a proud smile. "There's nothing in here about using defensive spells?"

There was a short silence in which many members of the class titled their heads to frown at the textbook in their hands, flipping through pages.

"Using defensive spells?" Professor Umbridge repeated with a little laugh. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"

"We're not going to use magic?" Ron exclaimed loudly.

"Students will raise their hands when they wish to speak in my classroom, Mr. - ?"

"Weasley," said Ron, thrusting his hand into the air.

Umbridge nodded before clearing her throat, "You'll be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way."

"What use is that?" snapped Harry, startling everyone in the room. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be -"

"Hand, Mr. Potter!" sang Professor Umbridge before addressing the class once again. "Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be sufficient to get you through your examinations, which, after all, is what school is all about."

"View of the Ministry, is it?" Charlie chimed in bitterly, thrusting his hand in the air. "How's theory supposed to prepare us for what's out there?"

"There is nothing out there, dear!" exclaimed Umbridge exasperatedly, her eyes focusing curiously at Charlie. "Who do you imagine wants to attack children such as yourselves?"

"Hmm, let's think..." said Harry in a mock thoughtful voice causing Umbridge to snap her head towards him. "Maybe... Lord Voldemort?"

Hermione and Charlie whipped their heads towards him; Ron gasped; Lavender Brown uttered a little scream; Neville slipped sideways off his stool. Professor Umbridge, however, did not flinch. She was staring at Harry with a grimly satisfied expression on her face.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter."

The classroom was silent and still. Everyone was staring at either Umbridge or Harry.

"Now, let me make a few things quite plain." said Professor Umbridge calmly as she walked to the front of the class. "You have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large once again - this is a lie!"

"It is NOT a lie!" shouted Harry, standing up from his desk in anger. "I saw him, I fought him!"

"Detention, Mr. Potter!" said Professor Umbridge triumphantly as Harry sunk back into his seat. "Tomorrow evening. Five o'clock. My office. I repeat, this is a lie.The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard -"

Charlie scoffed, the room turning towards him, "The Ministry of Magic can't guarantee anything. I mean, for goodness sakes, the one person who spearheads the whole operation has built an entire empire off of lies and supremacy - I would know, wouldn't I? I am his son."

The entire room erupted with gasps and murmurs at Charlie's newfound bluntness. Hermione had even attempted to calm her boyfriend down by grabbing his hand under the table, but was immediately shrugged off as he was not in the mood to be silenced.

Charlie seemed to strike a nerve in Professor Umbridge as she whipped her head towards him aggressively. Strutting towards him, she leaned forward on his desk, her stubby-fingered hands gripping the edge of the table tightly in anger, as she glared at the boy intensely.

"Mr. Hawthorne, you would be exceptionally lucky to become half of what your father is," she said bitterly. "Now, I must demand that you not only watch your tone, but begin showing a little more respect towards your superiors -"

"My superiors?" challenged Charlie with a malicious laugh. "What kind of rubbish have you been told exactly? How do you believe such pathetic excuses to simple facts? The Dark Lord has, undoubtedly, returned -"

"Nonsense! I will not entertain these childish accusations any longer," snapped Umbridge, turning away from Charlie in a huff before addressing the class. "Will each of you kindly read chapter five in your textbooks entitled, 'Basics for Beginners'."

Professor Umbridge sat down behind her desk. Charlie, however, stood up, not yet finished with their conversation. Everyone was staring at him; Hermione looked half-scared, half-shocked.

"Charlie, no!" Hermione whispered in a warning voice, tugging at his sleeve, but her boyfriend jerked his arm out of her reach - again, Umbridge watched this interaction carefully.

"So, according to you, I nearly dropped dead of my own accord, did I?" Charlie asked, his voice shaking.

There was a collective intake of breath from the class, for none of them, apart from a few selective people, had ever heard Charlie talk about what had happened on the night he nearly died. They stared avidly from Charlie to Professor Umbridge, who had raised her eyes and was staring at him without a trace of a fake smile on her face.

Umbridge spoke coldly, "What happened to you in the maze that night was a tragic accident, Mr. Hawthorne."

"It wasn't an accident," spat Charlie angrily. He could feel himself shaking. He had hardly spoken to anyone about this, least of all thirty eagerly listening classmates. "The Dark Lord tried to kill me, and despite your false accusations that label me as a liar, you know I'm telling the truth."

Professor Umbridge's face went blank. For a moment, Charlie thought she was going to scream at him. Then she said, in her softest, sweetest, girlish voice, "Come here, Mr. Hawthorne, dear."

He kicked his chair aside, strode around his and Hermione's desk up to the front of the room. He could feel the rest of the class holding their breath, but he felt so angry that he did not care what happened next.

Professor Umbridge pulled a small roll of pink parchment out of her handbag, stretched it out on the desk, dipped her quill into a bottle of ink and started scribbling, hunched over so that Charlie could not see what she was writing. Nobody spoke. After a minute or so she rolled up the parchment and tapped it with her wand; it sealed itself seamlessly so that he could not open it.

"Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear," said Professor Umbridge, holding out the note to him.

He took it from her without saying a word, turned on his heel and left the room, not even looking back at Harry, Ron, or Hermione, slamming the classroom door shut behind him. He walked very fast along the corridor, the note to McGonagall clutched tight in his hand as he shook his head in frustration.

It wasn't long before he appeared at the door of McGonagall's office, and just as Charlie was about to knock, the door flew open. Professor McGonagall emerged from the room looking grim and slightly confused.

"Charles?" she questioned, "Why aren't you in class?"

"I've been sent to see you," said Charlie stiffly.

"Sent? What do you mean, sent?"

He held out the note from Professor Umbridge. Professor McGonagall took it from him, frowning, slit it open with a tap of her wand, stretched it out and began to read. Her eyes zoomed from side to side behind their square spectacles as she read what Umbridge had written, and with each line they became narrower.

"Come in here, Charles."

He followed her inside her study. The door closed automatically behind him.

"Well?" said Professor McGonagall, rounding on him. "Is this true?"

"Is what true?" Charlie asked, rather more aggressively than he had intended. "Professor?" he added, in an attempt to sound more polite.

"Is it true that you shouted at Professor Umbridge?"

Charlie nodded, "Yes."

"You called her a liar?"

"I may have hinted at it, yes."

"You told her that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back?"

"I told her nothing that she didn't already know, Professor."

Professor McGonagall sat down behind her desk, watching the boy closely, then she sighed, "Have a biscuit, Charles."

"Have a what?"

"Have a biscuit," she repeated impatiently, indicating a circular tin lying on top of one of the piles of papers on her desk. "And sit down."

The boy eyed McGonagall curiously before sinking into a chair opposite her and helping himself to a Ginger Newt, feeling confused and wrong-footed.

Professor McGonagall set down Professor Umbridge's note and looked very seriously at the boy, "Charles, you need to be more careful."

Charlie swallowed his mouthful of Ginger Newt and stared at her. Her tone of voice was not at all what he was used to; it was not brisk, crisp and stern; it was low and anxious and somehow much more human than usual.

"Misbehaviour in Dolores Umbridge's class could cost you much more than house points and a detention."

"What do you - ?"

"Charles, use your common sense," snapped Professor McGonagall, with an abrupt return to her usual manner. "You know where she comes from, you must know to whom she is reporting."

The bell rang for the end of the lesson. Overhead and among the hallways, came the elephantine sounds of hundreds of students on the move.

"It says here she's given you detention every evening this week, starting tomorrow," Professor McGonagall said, looking down at Umbridge's note again.

"Every evening this week?!" Charlie repeated, horrified. "But, Professor, couldn't you - ?"

"No, I couldn't," said Professor McGonagall at once. "My hands are tied."

"But -"

"She is your teacher and has every right to give you detention. You will go to her room at five o'clock tomorrow for the first one. Just remember... tread carefully around Dolores Umbridge."

Charlie spoke in his defence, "All I did was tell the truth."

"Do you really think this is about truth or lies?" McGonagall questioned gently to which Charlie shrugged, prompting the Professor to answer her own question. "It's about keeping your head down and your temper under control, Charles. Didn't you listen to Dolores Umbridge's speech at the start-of-term feast?"

"More or less," Charlie admitted bashfully. "It was basically confirmation that the Ministry of Magic is trying to interfere at Hogwarts."

Professor McGonagall eyed him closely for a moment, then smiling, walked around her desk and held open the door for him.

"Well, I'm glad you listen to Hermione Granger at any rate," she smirked, a look of knowing on her face as she pointed him out of her office. "Think before you act, Charles. Don't be drawing any unnecessary attention to yourself. Any fool can assume that Dolores is watching you close enough already..."

...oh, you have no idea.

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

Hello you beautiful humans! I apologize for the late update, I got busy and couldn't get this chapter up when I wanted to :(

ANYWAYSSSSSS

I hope you enjoyed, despite the fact that Umbitch has made her appearance lmfao

If you did, be sure to like, share, and spam with comments - I love reading them <3

Much love to all of you! Woke up this morning to over 20k views, 1k comments, and 1k votes! That is BEYOND amazing and I can't thank each of you enough!

I'm really glad you enjoy this story <3

xo, Selena

p.s. super interested in fanart! let me know if you guys find any that look like Charlie & Hermione!