CHAPTER TWELVE:

(A/N: credit to wonhosmila and TomasGranger003 for the amazing Charlie graphic <3)

Third Person Narrative:

Charlie quickly ran out of the office and down the spiral staircase, desperately trying to escape the sudden feelings of suffocation that were closing in around him. He staggered through the halls, using the walls as support, and peered out the corridor windows in search of salvation; the sun was now a ruby-red glare along the horizon.

His intentions for visiting his grandfather tonight had been reasonable and legitimate in the beginning. He wanted to find out whether or not Dumbledore had managed to find the Horocrux. Charlie, however, ended up leaving with an unmatched rage that burned in the centre of his chest. He exhaled deeply as the sudden urge to explode with feelings of disscontempt overtook him. These feelings aside, Charlie's mind was oddly clear all of a sudden as he walked. He had remembered the Horocrux beneath his rage, and he now knew what to do to ensure it be found.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting together in the common room when he came back, evidently awaiting the details to what Charlie's meeting with Dumbledore entailed. They were genuinely surprised, however, when their friend showed up looking more infuriated than ever before.

"Babe, is everything alright?" asked Hermione hesitantly, standing at once and moving to comfort him with a hand overtop of his chest. "What did your grandfather say?"

"He's found the bloody Horocrux," mumbled Charlie, unwilling to calm down at his girlfriend's touch. He snapped his head towards Harry, "You can go with him; I can't bare the sight of my grandfather right now."

Harry cast his eyes over toward his friend, full of confusion, "Wait, what? What happened?"

"Doesn't matter," Charlie hissed angrily, as Harry, Ron, and Hermione all showed signs of inevitable curiosity. "I haven't got the patience to explain it to you right now. All you need to know is that Dumbledore is leaving the castle to find the missing Horocrux, and you need to go with him."

"Okay, okay," Harry breathed, not willing to say anything in question. Without a moment of hesitation, Harry dashed up the stairs and into his dormitory, where he flung open his trunk and pulled out his invisibility cloak and a pair of balled-up socks. Then he sped back down the stairs and into the common room, skidding to a halt where Charlie, Ron and Hermione sat, looking uneasy.

"I'll see you guys later," Harry panted, "Take this just in case —"

He thrust the socks into Ron's hands.

"Thanks," said Ron. "Er — why do I need socks?"

"You need what's wrapped in them, it's the Felix Felicis. If something happens while we're gone, share it between yourselves and Elaina too. Say goodbye to her from me. I'd better go, Dumbledore's probably waiting —"

"No, wait!" said Hermione, as Ron unwrapped the tiny little bottle of golden potion, looking awestruck. "We don't want it, you take it, Harry, who knows what you're going to be facing?"

"I'Il be fine, I'll be with Dumbledore," shrugged Harry, and with no explanation as to why, Charlie scoffed. "I want to know you lot are okay... don't look like that, Hermione, I'll see you later..."

And he was off, hurrying through the portrait hole towards the Entrance Hall. Charlie watched him go with a sharp glare, unable to stop himself.

"Dumbledore won't be able to save him," he muttered darkly, earning an immediate concerned glance from Hermione. He turned away quickly, avoiding her gaze and added, "What? It's the truth. We're all fucking doomed, whether you want to admit it or not."

"So much for optimism," groaned Ron, rolling his eyes. He brandished the tiny potion bottle in his hands, "What do you reckon we're supposed to do now?"

Charlie shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets, "Wait, I guess? Dunno what to do.... and, honestly, I don't really care."

Hermione reached for her boyfriend again and when Charlie took a step backward, moving out of reach, she frowned, "What's going on with you?"

Faltering, Charlie's heaved a heavy sigh. He knew she deserved better than this; she didn't deserve the tail-end of his aggression. He lowered his voice as he said sincerely, "Nothing, don't worry about it."

"But Char—"

"Hermione, please," he said, hoping she would understand.

Ron looked on at their exchange in silence. Charlie saw Hermione's gaze soften briefly before her resolution shone through. They nodded silently to one another.

And with no desire to hear hesitant protests, Charlie stomped out of the room, running up the stairs to the boys dormitories. He slammed the door closed behind him after he entered, hiding him from the sight of the others as he tried to reign in his anger. He could feel his jaw clench as his fury primed, edging an explosion. It wasn't the overdramtic, attention-seeking anger of a teenager, but rather a built-up aggression that had been brewing inside of him for far too long.

This time, Charlie was justified. Earlier this year, he had been captured, held against his will and tortured to the brink of death. What was the response of the adult that was supposed to help and protect him? Perhaps counselling to help him move past the horrific events? Or maybe even words of reassurance? No, unfortunately, Albus Dumbledore let his grandson suffer on his lonesome, and proceeded to ignore Charlie up to a point where he was forced to sneak around just to catch a glance of the news, leaving him to wallow in worry and fear.

Charlie had countlessly informed Dumbledore, the man that held the highest echelon of supporters, about the grave danger that loomed over the horizon. What did he get in response? Disbelief at first, followed by a character assassination at its finest. There wasn't a day that passed in which Charlie wasn't ridiculed for his distrust in Severus Snape, a known Death Eater in desperate need of an attitude adjustment.

Still, the last comment Dumbledore mentioned made Charlie's rage bubble over the surface. Allegedly, it was his great 'sacrifice' that resulted in his torture. In reality, he suffered physically and mentally, again and again, because his own grandfather was more than willing to risk his well-being for attempted contribution to a seemingly never-ending war. The very thought made Charlie disgustingly sick.

The sunset on the horizon peered in from the windows, illuminating the room in its entirety. Charlie wanted to scream out the frustration of his life, floating in a pool of complacency, with no way to solve it because the other people involved would not budge.

He reached for the back of his shirt, drawing it up over his head. Throwing the fabric across the room, he exposed his back and shoulders, and the nasty wound, still red and raw, just above his left wrist, as he slammed his fists down on a nearby desk out of frustration. The Dark Mark engraved in his skin was taunting him, reminding him of all that he had lost, and laughing mercilessly in his head.

Charlie found himself shaking again. Every fibre of his being wanted to throw something, causing mayhem and harm in retaliation. He wanted to punch the nearby wall and relish in a feeling other than betrayal. He wanted to know that he wasn't alone, and that he'd someday stop feeling like he was. But Charlie knew, no matter what he did, it wouldn't take back what had been done. It wouldn't solve his life-changing problem.

And as though the entire world had been conspiring against him, there was a timid knock on the door. Without a response, it opened and Charlie was greeted with a familiar waft of sweet perfume mixed with the remnants of an old leather-bound book; Hermione Granger. He could feel her eyes on him as she entered, burning holes deep into his back, just as a his husky voice sounded from the other side of the room.

"Don't you know it's impolite to enter someone's room without their permission?"

"Don't get me started on impolite, Charlie," scolded Hermione at once, closing the door behind her. "I am not happy with how you're acting all of a sudden."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, "Sorry."

"You seem to be doing an awful lot of apologizing lately, and yet you haven't offered a single shred of explanation."

Charlie shrugged, impassive, "I don't want to talk about it."

Not taking no for an answer, Hermione moved closer towards him. Charlie had only just registered the proximity of her footsteps when she grabbed at his wrist and turned him around to face her. His dark hair stood at odd angles, even more so than usual, and he looked evidently more distressed than ever before. His eyes were dark and emotionless, giving Hermione the illusion of him just returning from some nasty battle.

Charlie wiggled his hand from her grasp, trying to send an obvious message that he'd rather endure his troubles alone, but she wouldn't budge.

"Let it go, will you?" he snapped, harsher than intended. "I'm fine."

"You're fine, are you?" The witch gave a chastising laugh. "You know I'm not buying that for a second, right?"

It was obvious from the crease between Charlie's brows that her instincts were correct. He'd never been a particularly good liar, especially when it came to lying to her. Hermione probed harder.

"What happened when you went to speak with your grandfather?"

Stubborn as all hell, Charlie said nothing.

The silence between them stretched on for up to a minute, as Charlie replayed her words over and over in his head. There were so many things he wanted to say, but nothing seemed to come out. Hermione waited, watching his face with immense curiosity. He bit his lip and did his utmost not to reply to her insinuation while his eyes shot cold fire.

Charlie's jaw tightened. "I think we're through here, Hermione. Can you just..." he closed his eyes. "Can you just go?"

"I'm not going anywhere," she replied definitively, standing her ground. Her knees began to shake beneath her skirt, but she willed them still, adrenaline and concern coursing through her veins. "Tell me what's wrong... let me help."

His golden brown eyes came back open, and he stared at her, "You want to help?"

"I do," Hermione reaffirmed, reaching to interlace their hands in a display of comforting affection. "And I'm not leaving here until you let me."

Running the fingers of his opposite hand through his hair, Charlie gave a sigh and ducked his chin. Obediently, and from years of trust, he took a step closer to Hermione, reciprocating and squeezing her hand gently. Still, there was a certain coldness in his eyes, desperately trying to protect him from letting his guard down.

It would have been intimidating, but Hermione was just the right amount of incensed to be unaffected. Her own indignation stood up against his, like clashing clouds, causing chaos and thunder. In fact, she was glad he was finally reacting. Her defeat of his emotional defences would be so much more satisfying. A sitting duck, with clipped wings, was no worthy target.

"You're so bloody stubborn," he hissed, stalking forward so that Hermione had to move backward if she didn't want their bodies to clash. They moved until Charlie had trapped her between his frame and the now closed door of the dormitory. He pressed her up against the oak wood, and Hermione's breath hitched. His body heat pressing into her drove her own temperature, and with it her guilty temptation, through the roof.

"W-What're you d-doing?"

"I... haven't a clue... I don't —"

He was transfixed, his hormones taking over.

Charlie's heart was doing overtime, working against the discrepancy of the body heat and the ice-cold anger coming from the enraged conversation he had with his grandfather. He didn't know if he shivered from the cold or trembled from the heat. One thing was for certain, however, there was something different in the way he looked at her this time, as if he was seeing her clearly for the first time that night. The hand entangled within hers tightened ever so slightly, and his pupils dilated.

The next thing he knew, he was dipping his head down. His mouth found the skin just below her ear, and he began to trail warm, sensual kisses down her neck. Hermione wasn't sure what was happening, but her body reacted positively, enjoying the smooth texture of Charlie's lips and the wetness of his tongue. His breath ghosted against her skin, enticing her.

"Mmm," Hermione heard herself groan, as Charlie's tongue lapped at her pulse point. "You're trying to... seduce me..." she breathed heavily, trying to keep her composure.

"Am I?" Charlie simpered, looking pleased with himself. "Well, is it working?"

"Y-You..."

But Hermione trailed off when he placed a soft kiss under her jaw. Timidly, and against her better judgment, she relished in his touch, falling victim to his tactics of seduction. Charlie brushed her curls to the side and began to kiss her neck again, this time with much more zealousness.

"You're not thinking clearly," Hermione managed to try to reason, even as Charlie's unoccupied hand snaked under her shirt and brushed along her toned abdomen.

"On the contrary," Charlie murmured against her skin, sending goosebumps down her spine, "for the first time today, my mind is abundantly clear."

Feeling Hermione's ragged breath flow over his face, Charlie stood trembling from his own excitation. He couldn't explain it any better than his pent-up energy finally finding an outlet, aligning somehow with her barely hidden concern for his well-being. For a moment, he was surprised that he didn't actually see sparks.

There was a crackle in the air, like an unfinished spell where the energy was still hovering, expelled from the wand but unfocused because it hadn't been directed yet. They were both ready to give in. The tension had to break any moment now.

Charlie felt as if he was drowning in a magical suspense. Everything about Hermione Granger reflected suffocating stimulus and love: her pearl-white blouse, her parted lips, her flustered cheeks, her tempted eyes.

Doused in reddish light which reflected from the ruby-red sunset that was peering in from the windows, there was energy to spare; exciting, wild, abandoning energy that clashed with Charlie's anger like two battling dragons. He felt it in the way the little hairs on his arms stood up. It made some of his muscles contract involuntarily. He couldn't explain any other way why he bent forward to claim the pair of juicy, red lips that had desperately awaited his kiss.

(A/N: hello innocent people 👋🏼 lol you're probably gonna wanna scroll down to the bolded A/N...)

Unable to will himself to stop, Charlie smashed his lips against Hermione's, kissing her fervently and passionately, in attempt to get lost in this insatiable distraction. She was whimpering now, each soft moan sending an electric tremor through him. Hermione gasped and clutched tightly onto his muscular back as his hands moved tenderly over her hips. Longing filled her body, making it hot in all the places he touched. The more Charlie deepened the kiss, the more air between the two of them was lost in desire.

He just needed to forget the world for a moment...

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Reciprocating Charlie's movements, Hermione gracefully fell onto the mattress and immediately moved to cuddle into his side. Humming with content, Charlie welcomed her embrace and wrapped his arms around her naked body, pulling her closer as both of their chests heaved from exertion.

Charlie grabbed the comforter that was at the foot of the bed and covered them completely. He placed a delicate kiss atop of her head, tickling the untamed hairs at her edges with his panted breath. Hermione remained still in his arms, her brown eyes semi-closed, staring into the empty darkness of the ceiling. The room held an illuminated light from the full moon seeping through the window. An angelic glow wrapping around the two lovers, entrapping them together in a blissful serenity.

"I love you," Charlie whispered, his hot breath brushing against her ear. As shivers coursed down her body, Hermione felt his body press against hers, his arms draped protectively around her as their bodies entwined together. She curled into him, fitting perfectly as if she were the missing piece to his whole.

They'd told each other they loved each other many times, but the weight in which these three words carried never failed to bring a smile to Hermione's lips. She propped herself elbow, staring down at him lovingly. With a soft touch, Hermione brushed the hair from his forehead, taking note of how his eyes had ridden themselves of the sadness she once found buried deep within them. She smiled.

Their relationship would always be serendipitous, albeit that would not mean it would forever be easy. They would always have their fights, their disagreements. They would always be kids forced to become soldiers in a war they inherited. But even still, moments like these proved that they could somehow take life slow without the risk of the horror looming constantly over their heads.

Hermione leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on the corner of Charlie's mouth. "I love you too, Charlie, more than you'll ever know."

They peered into each other's eyes briefly until moving away, narrowly avoiding a kiss that could have easily led to something more for the second time tonight. The young witch settled back into his arms, burrowing her face back into Charlie's chest and bringing her hand up to draw circles on his skin with her fingertips, soothing him as the aftermath of their intimate relations seemingly wore off.

Silence overcame them again, and Hermione only dared to break the soundless encounter to pepper kisses along his chest every few minutes, running her hands along his bare torso, as if to coerce him into talking about what had remained unspoken.

Giving in, Charlie tilted his head forward to rest on her shoulder while he ruminated his returning problem, "You still want to know what happened, don't you?"

With a timid sigh, Hermione nodded against him. Charlie scrunched his face up in distaste, stubbornly aware that she deserved an explanation for his ruthless behaviour.

"I don't even know where to begin," he whispered, tightening his grasp on her waist involuntarily. "My grandfather and I got into an argument, and things just... escalated. Listen..."

Quickly, he told Hermione of Dumbledore's secret agenda when it came to him, recalling the reason he bared the Dark Mark on his forearm all along. Charlie did not pause either for Hermione's gasps of horror, hoping she would be able to work out the finer details for herself later.

"...so you see what this means?" Charlie finished with a bitter gulp. "He knew this entire time, Hermione, and he didn't do anything to stop it from happening. I was a pawn in this fucking game, just as Malfoy is to the Dark Lord. I've never felt so betrayed in my life... I t-thought..." he trailed off, emotion clogging his throat.

Charlie thought he could trust his grandfather, but Dumbledore, just like his father, had left him to die.

"Oh, Charlie," Hermione whispered, kissing him gently, tears flooding her eyes. "I'm so sorry."

Her eyes burned as tears welled, some of them overflowing to dot her lashes with sparkling droplets. She couldn't bring herself to look at him while she said it, and instead focused on the ugly scarlet curtains he had in the dorm room. If her eyes connected with his, she knew she'd see vivid sorrow in the mercurial depths looking back at her, and Hermione couldn't bare the thought of witnessing any more hurt reflected in his gaze.

And she wouldn't be wrong.

Charlie had an idea about what was going through her head, and knew that she was right. Even being pressed up against the one he loved couldn't completely clear the hurt and anger he felt. He had hate in his heart, and for the man that raised him no doubt.

"That's why I needed you so badly," he explained guiltily, caressing her skin. "You were my own little distraction, helping me to forget what happened for a few fleeting moments of utter bliss. Honestly, you saved me from doing something I'd probably regret tomorrow."

"I'm glad I could help," said Hermione, blushing lightly, nuzzling into him further. "I'm glad you let me."

"So am I," whispered Charlie, smoothing her hair away from her face to get a better look at her. He pecked her lips, only to then pull back with an exasperated sigh, "However, I now have absolutely no idea what I'm supposed to do."

When silence overcame them again, Hermione twisted her head and leaned back until she could see his face. His lips were pressed together in a tight line and he wasn't quite meeting her eyes.

"Well, for starters," Hermione gulped, tangible hesitation in his voice, "I think you should talk to your grandfather again once he returns to the castle."

Charlie's eyebrows drew together, "I beg your pardon?"

"I know how you are, my love," she told him seriously, searching to meet his gaze for reassurance that he was listening. "The sooner you work things out, the better. By storming out, you left things unresolved with your grandfather, and while I know your actions were more than justified, I also know that your outburst will only cause more of a hinderance in the long run."

Charlie sat up with a huff, conflicted, "Hermione, you can't possibly think that confronting my grandfather will achieve anything? Look what's happened already! Nothing will come of it!"

Following suit, Hermione sat up, clutching the bedsheet to her exposed chest, and clung onto to Charlie's arm, unwilling to let him go.

"You don't know that for sure," she countered, her tone soft and gentle. "Your last reaction was one of vindicated rage, but now that you've had time to think, I genuinely believe the outcome will be different. I know you, Charlie, better than most. I know you're hurt, but he's the man who raised you into the person you are today —"

"He's the person who sealed my fate as a Death Eater," Charlie interjected, his tone seeping with anger. He cradled his face in his hands, muffling his words, "I hate him, Hermione."

"But you don't... you can't possibly..." she whispered, resting her chin upon his shoulder, trailing her fingertips up his arm in a soothing manner. "Babe, he's the only family you have left —"

"That's not true," Charlie shook his head, and cocked his head to the right to face her, raising a hand to her cheek, "I have you, don't I?"

"Well, yes, of course you do," Hermione giggled lightheartedly, chastely pecking his lips. "But you know that's not what I meant."

Charlie took a slow, deep breath. Everything he'd thought he'd known had just been turned on its head. He slicked a strand of his hair back, anxiety reflected in the depths of his eyes.

"You need to talk to Dumbledore again," Hermione pressed on, her lips hovering over his ear. "Please, my love, you'll regret it if you don't."

Charlie wasn't so sure another confrontation was the best option, but he nodded nonetheless. He'd go along with it until a better course of action presented itself.

"Always the voice of reason, you are," he muttered, laughing lightly, as he nuzzled his nose against hers.

Having got her way, Hermione smiled radiantly. She hooked a leg over his hips and arched against him.

"Someone's got to be," she responded, claiming his lips again delicately, "but I know it's the reason why you love me."

Charlie grinned, resting his forehead against hers, "That, among many other reasons, I assure you."

Hermione swooned, her heart racing, "Precisely what I wanted to hea—"

BANG!

The sudden commotion caused the two Gryffindor lovers to break apart from their embrace. The common room below them had exploded with various screaming voices.

"What the...?"

Before either Charlie or Hermione could make a move, however, the shimmering light peering in from the windows transformed, enclosing the room in a sickening green. Acting quickly, Charlie moved Hermione from his lap, pulled on his trousers, and looked to see what what going on.

And there it was, hanging in the sky above the school:

The blazing green skull with a serpent tongue, the mark Death Eaters left behind whenever they had entered a building... wherever they had murdered...

"Charlie, what is it? What's going on?" asked Hermione, growing worried at the immediate pale face of her boyfriend as he turned back around.

"T-The Dark Mark," gulped Charlie, pointing out the window, and dread flood Hermione at sound of the words, her eyes wide. "Quick, get dressed!"

The pair of them quickly searched around the room, picking up their scattered pieces of clothing and pulling them over their indecent bodies. Hermione struggled to her feet, overwhelmed, as Charlie staggered a little, albeit he was still surprisingly wholly in command of the situation.

"How did this happen?" asked Hermione, a slight terrified inflection in her voice, as she pulled on her blouse. "What are we going to do?"

"It mustn't have been there long," reassured Charlie, stepping into his trainers. "We need to rustle up anyone we can from the D. A., those contact Galleons will still work, right? My granddad said he's put up extra protection around the school, but if Snape's involved, he'll know what Dumbledore's protection is, and how to avoid it — no matter, we need to act quickly, and maybe even send a message to the Ministry."

"R-Right, okay, let's go," nodded Hermione, and the two of them opened the dorm room and sped off down the stairs. The common room was full of people, but it was almost deadly silent. The few voices around them were all hushed and worried. Some of the people assembled were crying, muffling the sounds they were making in their hands or a friendly shoulder.

The sight of the Dark Mark seemed to have acted upon Charlie like a stimulant. Fear swelled inside him like a venomous bubble, compressing his lungs, driving all other discomfort from his mind, but still he remained as calm as possible. Him and Hermione pushed their way through the portrait hole, ready to fight with their wands in hand.

Amongst the dim green glow from the Mark, Charlie was able to gather the student defences and station them at various entrances to the castle. Not long after, Charlie and Hermione encountered Ron along the way, accompanied by Elaina, Ginny, Luna, and Neville; each of them held their wands tightly in their hands, looking on high alert.

"There you two are!" exclaimed Elaina, greeting Charlie and Hermione with a breath of relief. "We've been worried sick!"

"Sorry," muttered Hermione, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear guiltily. "We lost track of time — what's going on?"

But as soon as Ron went to open his mouth to give a response, a hoard of terrified students gave barrelling past, screaming:

"DEATH EATERS! DEATH EATERS IN THE CASTLE!"

"Well, I guess there's our answer," muttered Charlie, his eyes growing wide. He turned his attention back to the group, "Alright! Everyone split up and cover as much ground as possible. Let's try and fend them off until Harry and my granddad get back, okay? Use your D.A. coins to communicate if need be, and be careful all of you, is that clear?"

They all mumbled incoherent agreements and scattered, pairing up as they departed in different directions. Hermione and Ron had tried to stay with Charlie, but he quickly sent them on their way, despite Hermione's immediate protests.

"I've got to go and see if I can't warn Harry and my granddad about what they're returning to," he told them, insisting he was better off on his own. "When I'm done, I promise to come and find you."

There was a hungry longing in Hermione's eyes that spoke volumes as she listened. She was quite obviously only holding herself together by sheer force of will, as tears threatened to fall down her cheeks. Before another moment passed, she threw herself into Charlie's arms and kissed him fiercely, clinging to him as if it would be the last time they'd ever see each other alive.

"You're forbidden to die, do you hear me?" she whispered when they broke apart, resting their foreheads together, "Forbidden!"

"Y-Yes, of cour—"

There was another loud bang from the direction of grounds, signalling that the battle was drawing closer. Hermione shuddered, tightening her grasp around his shoulders.

"Be careful, please. I love you so much."

Charlie pulled her in for one more passionate kiss, appeasing the nerves swelling in his stomach. The kiss felt deliberately slow, savouring, and Ron awkwardly looked away.

"I love you too," Charlie whispered against her lips, finally extracting himself from her hold. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

And he watched Ron pull a tearful Hermione down the corridor, disappearing as they turned the corner and entered the battle. Taking a deep breath, Charlie turned and headed in the opposite direction, his own heart hammering as he sprinted along the next empty corridor.

The dimly lit hallway was full of dust; half the ceiling seemed to have fallen in, as the battle was raging on before him. Flying curses were ricocheting in all directions off the walls around him, cracking stone, and shattering the nearest windows —

Charlie briefly saw Tonks, Professor McGonagall, and Lupin, each of whom was battling a separate Death Eater. Still, he put his head down and sprinted forward, narrowly avoiding a blast that erupted over his head, showering his surroundings in bits of the wall.

The Dark Mark was glittering directly above the Astronomy Tower, the highest of the castle. Did that mean the death had occurred there? Charlie had a selfless need to know for sure, and so he sprinted up towards the Tower's balcony which was ramparted by tall mounds of concrete. If Harry and Dumbledore were to return, this would be the safest access point to the castle.

It was quiet when he arrived, eerily so, and the door to the spiral staircase that led up to the top tier of the Astronomy Tower was closed. There was no sign of a struggle, of a fight to the death, or of a body. He hurried over to the door, but his hand had only just closed upon the iron ring of the door when he heard various voices on the other side.

"Very good indeed. You found a way to let them in, did you?" came Dumbledore's voice, which surprisingly had no sign of panic or distress.

"Yeah," affirmed the anxious voice of Draco Malfoy, who was unknowingly panting. "Right under your nose and you never realized!"

Charlie froze with his hand on the door, unaware of what to say or do. It occurred to him in that moment that Malfoy's accomplishments in the Room of Requirement had merely slipped his mind once he learned of his grandfather's harsh reality. His conversation with Professor Trelawney came rushing back to his memory. Malfoy had let Death Eaters into the castle — Harry had been right all along; Malfoy had this planned from the beginning.

"Ingenious," Charlie heard Dumbledore say, pulling him from his thoughts as his ear perched against the door. "Yet... forgive me... where are they now? You seem unsupported."

"They met some of your guard. They're having a fight down below. They won't be long... I came on ahead. I-I've got a job to do."

"Well, then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy," said Dumbledore softly, and Charlie finally came to his senses.

He twisted the doorknob carefully and slipped inside the room, overhearing the conversation happening above him. Ever so lightly, he tiptoed up the spiral staircase with every intention of sneaking up on Malfoy before he did something anything in favour of the Dark Lord.

Just as he reached the second tier, however, Charlie felt a yank on his wrist and he was pulled to underground depths of the the Astronomy Tower's highest level. Before he could get out a word in rebuttal, a hand clamped over his mouth, silencing him at once.

Peering through the darkness, Charlie caught sight of the familiar piercing green eyes of Harry Potter staring back at him. There was silence. The two best friends stared at once another for a moment, almost in disbelief, until Harry was confident enough to remove his hand from Charlie's mouth.

"What's going on?" mouthed Charlie, desperate for answers, and anxiously listening to the shuffling footsteps overhead. "Why are you hiding down here?"

"Dumbledore told me to go... I gave him my word that I wouldn't interfere, Charlie, but I don't know what else to do," mouthed Harry in response, looking up to peer through the cracks in the floor. Charlie followed his gaze, worry embedded deep in his eyes.

"Draco, you are not a killer."

Malfoy laughed bitterly, "How do you know?"

He seemed to realize how childish the words had sounded; Charlie saw him flush in the Mark's greenish light.

"You don't know what I'm capable of," said Malfoy more forcefully, "you don't know what I've done!"

"Oh, yes, I do," muttered Dumbledore mildly. "You almost killed Katie Bell and my grandson. You have been trying, with increasing desperation, to kill me all year. Forgive me, Draco, but they have been feeble attempts... so feeble, to be honest, that I wonder whether your heart has been really in it..."

"It has been in it!" yelled Malfoy vehemently. "I've been working on it all year, and tonight —"

Somewhere in the depths of the castle below Charlie heard a muffled yell. Malfoy stiffened and glanced over his shoulder.

"Somebody is putting up a good fight," said Dumbledore conversationally. "But you were saying... yes, you have managed to introduce Death Eaters into my school which, I admit, I thought impossible... how did you do it?"

But Malfoy was too busy listening to whatever was happening below, seemingly paralyzed, to answer.

"Perhaps you ought to get on with the job alone," suggested Dumbledore. "What if your back-up has been thwarted by my guard? As you have perhaps realized, there are members of the Order of the Phoenix here tonight, too. And after all, you don't really need help... I have no wand at the moment... I cannot defend myself."

Malfoy merely stared at him.

"I see," said Dumbledore kindly, when Malfoy neither moved nor spoke. "You are afraid to act until they join you."

"I'm not afraid!" snarled Malfoy, though he still made no move to hurt Dumbledore."It's you who should be scared!"

"But why? I don't think you will kill me, Draco. Killing is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe... so tell me, while we wait for your friends... how did you smuggle them in here? It seems to have taken you a long time to work out how to do it."

Malfoy looked as though he was fighting down the urge to shout, or to vomit. He gulped and took several deep breaths, glaring at Dumbledore, his wand pointing directly at the latter's heart. Then, as though he could not help himself, he said, "I had to mend that broken Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement."

"Aaaah."

Dumbledore's sigh was half a groan. He closed his eyes for a moment.

"That was clever... there is a pair, I take it?"

"The other's in Borgin and Burkes," said Malfoy, "Defences around here are tough to manoeuvre around. At last, I realized that there could be a way into Hogwarts through the Cabinets if only I fixed the broken one."

"Very good," murmured Dumbledore. "So, the Death Eaters were able to travel from Borgin and Burkes into the school to help you... a clever plan, a very clever plan... and, as you say, right under my nose..."

"Yeah," affirmed Malfoy who, bizarrely, seemed to draw courage and comfort from Dumbledore's praise. "Yeah, it was!"

"But there were times," Dumbledore went on, "weren't there, when you were not sure you would succeed in mending the Cabinet? And you resorted to crude and badly judged measures such as sending me a cursed necklace that was bound to reach the wrong hands... poisoning mead to which there was only the slightest chance I might drink..."

"Yeah, well, you still didn't realize who was behind all that stuff, did you?" sneered Malfoy, as Dumbledore slid a little down the ramparts, the strength in his legs apparently fading, and Charlie struggled to keep his composure, despite Harry's silent protests from beside him.

"As a matter of fact, I did," corrected Dumbledore. "I was sure it was you."

"Why didn't you stop me, then?" Malfoy demanded.

"I tried, Draco. Professor Snape has been keeping watch over you on my orders —"

"He hasn't been doing your orders, he promised my mother —"

"Of course that is what he would tell you, Draco, but —"

"He's a double-agent, you stupid old man, he isn't working for you, you just think he is!"

"We must agree to differ on that, Draco. It so happens that I trust Professor Snape —"

"Well, you're losing your grip, then!" sneered Malfoy. "He's been offering me plenty of help — wanting all the glory for himself — wanting a bit of the action. But I haven't told him what I've been doing in the Room of Requirement, he's going to wake up tomorrow and it'll all be over and he won't be the Dark Lord's favourite any more, he'll be nothing compared to me, nothing!"

"Very gratifying," said Dumbledore mildly. "We all like appreciation for our own hard work, of course... but you must have had an accomplice, all the same... someone in Hogsmeade, someone who was able to slip Katie the — aaaah..."

Dumbledore closed his eyes again and nodded, as though he was about to fall asleep.

"Of course... Rosmerta. How long has she been under the Imperius Curse?"

"Got there at last, have you?" Malfoy taunted, and Charlie's blood boiled from his position under the floorboards.

There was another yell from below, rather louder than the last. Malfoy looked nervously over his shoulder again, then back at Dumbledore, who went on, "So poor Rosmerta was forced to lurk in her own bathroom and pass that necklace to any Hogwarts student who entered the room unaccompanied? And the poisoned mead... well, naturally, Rosmerta was able to poison it for you before she sent the bottle to Slughorn, believing that it was to be my Christmas present... yes, very neat... very neat... poor Mr. Filch would not, of course, think to check a bottle of Rosmerta's... tell me, how have you been communicating with Rosmerta? I thought we had all methods of communication in and out of the school monitored."

"Enchanted coins," said Malfoy, as though he was compelled to keep talking, though his wand hand was shaking badly. "I had one and she had the other and I could send her messages —"

"Isn't that the secret method of communication the group that called themselves, 'Dumbledore's Army', used last year?" asked Dumbledore. His voice was light and conversational, but Charlie saw him slip an inch lower down the wall as he said it.

"Yeah, I got the idea from them," nodded Malfoy, with a twisted smile. "I got the idea of poisoning the mead from the Mudblood Granger, as well, I heard her talking in the library about Filch not recognizing potions..."

"Please do not use that offensive word in front of me," said Dumbledore. "Especially not about my future granddaughter-in-law."

Malfoy gave a harsh laugh.

"You care about me saying 'Mudblood' when I'm about to kill you?"

Having heard enough, Charlie turned on his heels, prepared to strike. He raised his wand and aimed it through the ground, poised, just as Harry did next to him. Before either of them could make their move, however, a shadow splintered through the columns to his left. Charlie whipped his head around to find Professor Snape, quiet as a ghost, peering upwards.

Carefully, Snape drew his wand and aligned it with Charlie's nose, then raised a finger to his lips, silencing the two boys from making any sudden movements. Charlie's body became instantly rigid and immobile, and he felt unable to move or speak.

And so, he and Harry stood, imprisoned, and forced to endure the sounds of the Death Eaters' distant fight, while Draco Malfoy did nothing but stare at Albus Dumbledore who, incredibly, smiled.

"Yes, I do," said Dumbledore, and Charlie saw his feet slide a little on the floor as he struggled to remain upright. "But as for being about to kill me, Draco, you have had several long minutes now. We are quite alone. I am more defenceless than you can have dreamed of finding me, and still you have not acted."

Malfoy's mouth contorted involuntarily, as though he had tasted something very bitter.

"Now, about tonight," Dumbledore went on, "I am a little puzzled about how it happened... you knew that I had left the school? But of course," he answered his own question, "Rosmerta saw me leaving, she tipped you off using your ingenious coins, I'm sure..."

"That's right," said Malfoy. "But she said you were just going for a drink, you'd be back..."

"Well, I certainly did have a drink... and I came back," mumbled Dumbledore, and Charlie kinked a curious brow at Harry, who shamefully shook his head. "So you decided to spring a trap for me?"

"We decided to put the Dark Mark over the Tower and get you to hurry up here to see who'd been killed," said Malfoy. "And it worked!"

"Well... yes and no..." said Dumbledore. "But am I to take it, then, that nobody has been murdered?"

"Someone's dead," gulped Malfoy, and his voice seemed to go up an octave as he said it. "One of your people... I don't know who, it was dark... I stepped over the body... I was supposed to be waiting up here when you got back, only your Phoenix lot got in the way..."

Dumbledore smiled, "Yes, they tend to do that."

There was a bang and shouts from below, louder than ever; it sounded as though people were fighting on the actual spiral staircase that led to where Charlie, Snape, Dumbledore, Malfoy and Harry stood, and Charlie's heart thundered unheard in his chest... someone was dead... Malfoy had stepped over the body... but who was it?

"There is little time, one way or another," said Dumbledore. "So let us discuss your options, Draco."

"My options?" questioned Malfoy loudly. "I'm standing here with a wand — I'm about to kill you!"

"My dear boy, let us have no more pretence about that. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it when you first disarmed me, you would not have stopped for this pleasant chat about ways and means."

"I haven't got any options!" said Malfoy, and he was suddenly as white as Dumbledore. "I've got to do it! He'll kill me! He'll kill my whole family!"

"I appreciate the difficulty of your position," said Dumbledore. "Why else do you think I have not confronted you before now? Because I knew that you would have been murdered if Lord Voldemort realized that I suspected you."

Malfoy winced at the sound of the name. Charlie's mouth fell slightly agape, his ears perking up, listening carefully.

"I did not dare speak to you of the mission with which I knew you had been entrusted, in case he used Legilimency against you," continued Dumbledore. "But now at last we can speak plainly to each other... no harm has been done, you have hurt nobody, though you are very lucky that your unintentional victims survived... I can help you, Draco."

"No, you can't," said Malfoy, his wand hand shaking very badly indeed. "Nobody can. He told me to do it or he'll kill me. Apparently your bloody grandson needs to learn a lesson! I've got no choice!"

Dumbledore shook his head, "Come over to the right side, Draco, and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. What is more, I can send members of the Order to your mother tonight to hide her likewise. Your father is safe at the moment in Azkaban, and when the time comes, we can protect him too... come over to the right side, Draco... you are not a killer..."

Malfoy stared at Dumbledore.

"But I got this far, didn't I?" he said slowly. "They thought I'd die in the attempt, but I'm here... and you're in my power... I'm the one with the wand... you're at my mercy..."

"No, Draco," said Dumbledore quietly. "It is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now."

Malfoy did not speak. His mouth was open, his wand hand still trembling. Charlie thought he saw it drop a little.

But suddenly footsteps were thundering up the stairs, and a second later, Malfoy was pushed out of the way as four more people in black robes burst through the door on to the ramparts. Still held at wand-point, his eyes staring anxiously, Charlie gazed in terror upon four strangers; it seemed the Death Eaters had won the fight below.

"Well, would you look at what we have here..."

And to Charlie's dismay, the devilish grin of his father, Fenwick Hawthorne, crept eerily out of the shadows, brandishing his wand as if he had succeeded in his deepest desire.  After not seeing his father for the better half of the year, Charlie's stomach still turned all the same, as he was instantly horrifically reminded of his torturous summer holiday.

(A/N: for those of you who didn't know, I changed Fenwick's faceclaim... this is Daniel Gillies!)

"Dumbledore cornered!" Fenwick beamed, and he turned to the voluptuous figure of Bellatrix Lestrange, who was grinning eagerly as she stood alongside him. "Dumbledore wandless, Dumbledore alone! Well done, Draco, well done!"

"Good evening, Fenwick," said Dumbledore calmly, as though welcoming the man to a tea party. "And you've brought Bellatrix too... charming..."

The woman gave an angry little titter.

She jeered, "Think your little jokes'll help you on your death bed, then?"

"Jokes? No, no, these are manners," replied Dumbledore.

"Just get on with it," said the stranger directly above Charlie, a big, rangy man with matted grey hair and whiskers, whose black Death Eater's robes looked uncomfortably tight. He had a rasping bark of a voice. Charlie could smell a powerful mixture of dirt, sweat and, unmistakeably, of blood coming from him. His filthy hands had long yellowish nails.

"Is that you, Fenrir?"

"That's right," rasped the other. "Pleased to see me, Dumbledore?"

"No, I cannot say that I am..."

Fenrir Greyback grinned, showing pointed teeth. Blood trickled down his chin and he licked his lips slowly, obscenely.

"But you know how much I like kids, Dumbledore."

"Am I to take it that you are attacking even without the full moon now? This is most unusual... you have developed a taste for human flesh that cannot be satisfied once a month?"

"That's right," chuckled Greyback. "Shocks you, that, does it, Dumbledore? Frightens you?"

"Well, I cannot pretend it does not disgust me a little," grunted Dumbledore. "And, yes, I am a little shocked that Draco here invited you, of all people, into the school where his friends live..."

"I didn't," breathed Malfoy. He was not looking at Greyback; he did not seem to want to even glance at him. "I didn't know he was going to come —"

"I wouldn't want to miss a trip to Hogwarts, Dumbledore," rasped Greyback, smirking, "Not when there are throats to be ripped out... delicious, delicious..."

And he raised a yellow fingernail and picked at his front teeth, leering at Dumbledore.

"I could do you for afters, Dumbledore..."

"No," said the fourth Death Eater sharply. He had a heavy, brutal-looking face. "We've got our orders. Draco's got to do it. Now, Draco, and quickly."

Malfoy was showing less resolution than ever. He looked terrified as he stared into Dumbledore's face, which was even paler, and rather lower than usual, as he had slid so far down the rampart wall.

"Although, he's not long for this world anyway, if you ask me!" added the lopsided fourth stranger, to the accompaniment of Bellatrix's wheezing giggles. "Look at him — what's happened to you, then, Dumby?"

"Oh, weaker resistance, slower reflexes, Amycus," said Dumbledore. "Old age, in short... one day, perhaps, it will happen to you... if you are lucky..."

"What's that mean, then, what's that mean?" yelled Amycus, suddenly violent. "Always the same, aren't you, Dumby, talking and doing nothing, I don't even know why the Dark Lord's bothering to kill you! Come on, Draco, do it!"

But at that moment, there were renewed sounds of scuffling from below and a voice shouted, "They've blocked the stairs — Reducto! REDUCTO!"

Charlie's heart leapt. All opposition was not eliminated after all, but rather Fenwick and his group of followers had merely broken through the fight to the top of the Tower, and, by the sound of it, created a barrier behind them —

"Now, Draco, quickly!" encouraged Bellatrix, enticing her nephew as the opposition drew nearer.

But Malfoy's hand was shaking so badly that he could barely aim.

"I'll do it," snarled Greyback, moving towards Dumbledore with his hands outstretched, his teeth bared.

"No, you idiot!" shouted Fenwick; there was a flash of light and the werewolf was blasted out of the way. Greyback hit the ramparts and staggered, looking furious.

Charlie's heart was hammering so hard it seemed impossible that nobody could hear him standing beneath the platform, imprisoned by Snape's risen wand — if he could create a diversion, he could aim a curse from under the floor —

But as though he had hear the boy's most inner thoughts, Snape had lowered his wand, seized Charlie by the neck, and dragged him along. He wordlessly immobilized Harry, and the second Charlie had tried to wriggle free in retaliation, Snape disarmed him with a quick movement, rendering him with no way to defend himself.

Dragged by the collar, Charlie was pulled up the final steps of the Astronomy Tower, unwillingly following along after Snape's billowing cloak. The door to the ramparts burst open once more and there they stood: Snape, with his wand in one hand and Charlie held in the other, swept the scene with his black eyes, from Dumbledore slumped against the wall, to the four Death Eaters, including the enraged werewolf and a cowering Draco Malfoy.

"I've brought the boy as you've so modestly requested, Fenwick," sneered Snape, pushing the boy across the platform towards his father; Charlie stumbled and collided with Fenwick's suited torso.

"Ah, yes, perfect timing, Severus," grinned Fenwick, as he immediate took hold of Charlie and shoved his wand under his chin. He peered down at his son, his eyes sinisterly dark, "Hello, my dear boy, it's been a long time, hasn't it?"

"Fuck you," spat Charlie, which forced Fenwick's grip to tighten around his neck out of retaliation. The young boy avoided his father's gaze. Instead, he found Dumbledore standing against the ramparts, very white in the face, looking frightful for the first time since Malfoy had stepped onto the platform.

"Oh, not very friendly... tsk, tsk," scolded Fenwick, earning a wicked chuckle from Bellatrix Lestrange. The older Hawthorne pressed more firmly on his son's throat, growling, "You see, Charles, that behaviour is the reason why I'm here in the first place. The Dark Lord is not too happy with you, son, and neither am I for that matter! And now what? Well, we have to punish you, of course, but since you don't fair too well with repercussions... I'll have to target someone else..."

Realizing what was happening, Charlie desperately shook his head, "No, no, no, please —"

"Let him go, Fenwick, I beg you," Dumbledore interrupted, and Charlie could hear the fear crackling through his vocal chords. "He doesn't need to see this. I beg you, he's a just a boy —"

The sound frightened Charlie beyond anything he had experienced all evening. For the first time, Dumbledore was pleading.

"A boy that was given a choice," barked Fenwick, silencing the entirety of the Astronomy Tower with a single breath. "There's a method to my madness, Albus, and my son will have to learn the hard way."

Charlie's eyes shifted around in the greenish glare of the Dark Mark, searching aimlessly for a way out.

"But we've got a problem, Fenwick," said the lumpy Amycus, whose eyes and wand were fixed alike upon Dumbledore, "the Malfoy boy doesn't seem able —"

But Dumbledore had interrupted to try and implore to someone that would hopefully be more willing to listen:

"Severus... please, not in front of my grandson..."

Charlie was shaking, tears beginning to stream down his cheeks. Harry was immobilized. Dumbledore was disarmed. Suddenly, realization dawned that the chances of all of them making it out alive were very slim. Evidently, every ounce of of hatred for his grandfather had evaporated, replaced by an unbearable fear of losing him.

Snape said nothing, but walked forward and pushed Malfoy roughly out of the way. The three Death Eaters fell back without a word, and even the werewolf seemed stunned.

"NO!" pleaded Charlie, trying to appeal to any humanity left within Snape. "PLEASE! IM BEGGING YOU! I'LL DO ANYTHING! ANYTHING! YOU HAVE MY WORD!"

Fenwick snapped, barking a reminder in the boy's ear, "Your word is worth nothing to us!"

"I'm sorry, Charles!" called Dumbledore, clutching at his chest with his blackened hand. "Look away, my boy, please... look away..."

But Charlie's eyes remained as they were, locked with Dumbledore's vivid blue gaze, and even if he were to try and move, his sadistic father would manipulate his head to look exactly at the horrific scene happening before him.

For a moment, Snape gazed at Dumbledore, as the old man turned back around, and to Charlie's dismay, there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face.

"Severus... please..."

But Fenwick was relishing in the chaos.

"Do it, Severus! Just as the Dark Lord instructed!"

And without hesitation, Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A jet of green light shot from the end of Snape's wand and hit Dumbledore squarely in the chest.

"NOOOOOOOOOO!"

Charlie's scream of horror was strangled by his father's hand stationed around his throat.

Against his will, he was forced to watch as his grandfather was blasted into the air. For a split second, the Headmaster seemed to hang suspended beneath the shining skull in the sky, and then he fell slowly backwards, like a great rag doll, over the battlements and out of sight before Charlie even had the chance to say goodbye.

Charlie immediately collapsed to his knees, feeling as though he was hurtling through space, too far gone to realize that Fenwick had released him at last. It had not happened... it could not have happened...

"Out of here, quickly," ordered Fenwick, but not before he knelt down next to his son to utter one last taunting message, "I warned you about the consequences, my boy, and now look what you have done. Let it be known, the Dark Lord is merciless."

And with that, he turned on his heels to follow the rest of the Death Eaters out of the Astronomy Tower, leaving Charlie sobbing onto the stone floor. Snape seized Malfoy by the scruff of the neck and forced him through the door ahead of the rest; Greyback and Bellatrix followed, the latter cackling madly. As they vanished through the door, Charlie broke down, even going as far as to run to the balcony's edge to confirm what he had seen.

Just as he was about to meet the sight of his grandfather's lifeless figure sprawled upon the grass below, Harry had appeared and caught him around the waist, evidently no longer paralyzed.

"LET ME GO!" pleaded Charlie, his voice broken and hoarse. "I NEED TO BE SURE! HE CAN'T BE DEAD! HE CAN'T —"

"He's gone, Charlie," Harry told him truthfully, keeping his distressed friend from having to see the butchered image. "I'm sorry, mate, I'm so sorry."

Terror and depression tore at Charlie's heart, and he stopped struggling amongst Harry's grasp long enough to cry into his shoulder, wetting the fabric of his robes with his tears. Charlie's mind was running rapid with insufferable thoughts that had pushed him over the edge.

He had to get to Dumbledore and he had to catch Snape... somehow the two things were linked... he could reverse what had happened if he had them both together... Dumbledore could not have died...

Shaking with overwhelming emotions, Charlie pushed himself free of Harry's embrace, and sprinted down the spiral staircase of the Astronomy Tower, his wand raised as he let his feet carry him.

"Charlie, wait!"

But Charlie was too set in his efforts to stop himself, and Harry's protests went completely unnoticed. The battle was still raging on as he stepped into the corridor, but even as he attempted to make out who was fighting whom, he heard the hated voice shout, "It's over, time to go!"

And out of the corner of his eye, Charlie saw Snape disappearing around the corner at the far end of the corridor. He and Malfoy seemed to have forced their way through the fight unscathed. As Charlie plunged after them, one of the fighters detached themselves from the fray and flew at him: it was the werewolf, Fenrir Greyback.

Fenrir had tackled Charlie to the ground before the boy could raise his wand. Charlie fell backward, with filthy matted hair in his face, the stench of sweat and blood filling his nose and mouth, hot greedy breath at his throat —

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Charlie felt Greyback collapse against him. With a stupendous effort, he pushed the werewolf off and onto the floor as a jet of green light came flying toward him. He ducked and ran, headfirst, into the fight. His feet met something squashy and slippery on the floor and he stumbled; there were two bodies lying there, lying facedown in a pool of blood, but there was no time to investigate.

In front of him, Hermione was locked in combat with the lumpy Death Eater, Amycus, who was throwing hex after hex at her while she dodged them. Amycus was giggling, enjoying the sport: "Crucio — Crucio — you can't dance forever, Mudblood —"

"Confringo!" yelled Charlie, aiming his wand high as he ran past.

His jinx hit Amycus in the chest. The Death Eater gave a piglike squeal of pain, was lifted off his feet and slammed into the opposite wall, slid down it, and fell out of sight behind Ron, who was too busy fighting alongside his brother, Bill Weasley, to notice anything.

"Charlie, are you okay? Did you manage to warn your grandfather?" Hermione cried, but there was no time to answer her.

Snape must not escape, he must catch up —

"Take that!" shouted Professor McGonagall, and Charlie caught glimpse of the female Death Eater, Bellatrix, sprinting away down the corridor with her arms over her head, Fenwick right behind her. He launched himself after them, but his foot caught on something, and next moment he was lying across someone's legs. Looking around, he saw Neville's pale, round face flat against the floor.

"Neville, are you — ?"

"'M'all right," muttered Neville, who was clutching his stomach, "Char... Snape 'n' Malfoy... ran past..."

"I know, I'm on it!" affirmed Charlie, aiming a hex from the floor at the enormous blond Death Eater who was causing most of the chaos. The man gave a howl of pain as the spell hit him in the face. He wheeled around, staggered, and then pounded away after the two escaping Death Eaters.

Charlie scrambled up from the floor and began to sprint along the corridor, ignoring the bangs issuing from behind him, the yells of the others to come back, and the mute call of the figures on the ground whose fate he did not yet know. He skidded around the corner, his trainers slippery with blood; Snape had an immense head start.

Thinking quickly, he pelted toward a shortcut, hoping to close in on Snape and Malfoy, who must surely have reached the grounds by now. Charlie sprinted towards the landing and down the remainder of the marble steps leading down to the Entrance Hall. The oak front doors had been blasted open, there were smears of blood on the flagstones, and several terrified students stood huddled against the walls, one or two still cowering with their arms over their faces.

Charlie flew out into the dark grounds, hoping to make out the four figures racing across the lawn, heading for the gates beyond which they could Disapparate. At last, he spotted them, and the cold night air ripped at Charlie's lungs as he tore after them; he saw a flash of light in the distance that momentarily silhouetted his quarry. He did not know what it was but continued to run, not yet near enough to get a good aim with a curse.

Another flash, shouts, retaliatory jets of light, and Charlie understood; Hagrid had emerged from his cabin and was trying to stop the Death Eaters from escaping, and though every breath seemed to shred his lungs and the stitch in his chest was like fire, Charlie sped up as an unbidden voice in his head said: no, not Hagrid... not Hagrid too...

The vast outline of Hagrid, illuminated by the light of the crescent moon, revealed suddenly behind clouds; Bellatrix was aiming curse after curse at the gamekeeper, but Hagrid's immense strength and the toughened skin he had inherited from his giantess mother seemed to be protecting him. Snape and Malfoy, however, were still running, following behind Fenwick, who was leading the charge towards the gates, itching towards escape.

Charlie tore past Hagrid and his opponent, took aim at Snape's back, and yelled, "Stupefy!"

He missed, and the jet of red light soared past Snape's head; Malfoy skidded to a halt, his wand raised as he whipped around to face the opposition. With a determination to escape, he raised his wand, "That's enough, Hawthorne! It's over! Incarcer—"

"Expelliarmus!" shouted Charlie, before Malfoy could finish, and the Slytherin's wand flew into his unoccupied hand with ease. Elated, Charlie raised his wand again, prepared to strike at the defenceless boy.

(A/N: hmm... 👀)

But Snape shouted, "Run, Draco!" and he was gone.
Malfoy had disappeared beyond the gate, but Charlie didn't care. His target, his desired target, was still in his line of view. Twenty yards apart, he and Snape looked at each other before raising their wands simultaneously.

"Cruc—"

But Snape parried the curse, knocking Charlie backward off his feet before he could complete it. The young boy rolled over and scrambled back up again just as Bellatrix behind him yelled, "Incendio!"

Charlie heard an explosive bang and a dancing orange light spilled over all of them: Hagrid's hut was on fire.

And Hagrid's bellows behind him confirmed all suspicions, "Fang's in there wit Ludo, yer evil — !"

"Cruc—" yelled Charlie for the second time, aiming for the figure ahead illuminated in the dancing firelight, but Snape blocked the spell again. Charlie could see him sneering.

"No Unforgivable Curses from you, Hawthorne!" he shouted over the rushing of the flames, Hagrid's yells, and the wild yelping of the trapped dogs. "You haven't got the nerve or the ability!"

"Confrin—"

Still, Snape deflected the spell with an almost lazy flick of his arm.

"Fight back!" Charlie screamed at him. "Fight back, you fucking coward!"

"Coward, did you call me, Hawthorne?" shouted Snape, becoming enraged. "None of this would have happened had you accepted your task from the Dark Lord, what do you call yourself, I wonder?"

"Stupe—"

"Blocked again and again and again until you learn to keep your mouth shut and your emotions at bay!" sneered Snape, deflecting the curse once more. "Now come!" he shouted at the cackling Bellatrix, who was causing havoc behind Charlie. "It is time to be gone, before the Ministry turns up —"

"Impedi—"

But before he could finish this jinx, excruciating pain hit Charlie; he keeled over in the grass. Someone was screaming, he would surely die of this agony, Snape was going to torture him to death or madness.

"No!" roared Snape's voice and the pain stopped as suddenly as it had started; Charlie lay curled on the dark grass, clutching his wand and panting, and somewhere overhead Snape was shouting, "Have you forgotten our orders? The Hawthorne boy belongs to the Dark Lord, he must answer for what he has done — we are to leave him! Go! Go!"

And Charlie felt the ground shudder under his face as Bellatrix obeyed, running toward the gates. Charlie uttered an inarticulate yell of rage. In that instant, he cared not whether he lived or died. Pushing himself to his feet again, he staggered blindly toward Snape, the man he now hated as much as he hated his own father —

He was mere feet away now and he could see Snape's face clearly at last; he was no longer sneering or jeering, and instead the blazing flames showed a face full of rage. Mustering all his powers of concentration, Charlie remembered the spell Harry had used in the bathroom and thought quickly, muttering, "SECTUM—"

"I don't think so, Hawthorne!"

There was a loud BANG and Charlie was soaring backward, hitting the ground hard again, and this time his wand flew out of his hand. He could hear Hagrid yelling and the two dogs howling as Snape closed in and looked down on him where he lay, wandless and defenseless as Dumbledore had been. Snape's pale face, illuminated by the flaming cabin, was suffused with hatred just as it had been before he had cursed Dumbledore.

"You dare use my own spells against me, Hawthorne? It was I who invented them — I, the Half-Blood Prince! And you'd turn my inventions on me, would you? I don't think so... no!"

Charlie had dived for his wand; Snape shot a hex at it and it flew feet away into the darkness and out of sight.

"KILL ME THEN," shouted Charlie, who felt no fear at all, but only rage and contempt. "KILL ME LIKE YOU KILLED HIM, YOU COWARD —"

"DON'T —" screamed Snape, and his face was suddenly demented, inhuman, as though he was in as much pain as the yelping, howling dog stuck in the burning house behind them, "— CALL ME A COWARD!"

And he slashed the air with his wand; Charlie felt a white-hot, whiplike spell hit him across the face and was slammed backward into the ground. Spots of light burst in front of his eyes, and for a moment all the breath seemed to have gone from his body, then he heard a rush of wings above him and something enormous obscured the stars. Buckbeak had flown at Snape, who staggered backward as the razor-sharp claws slashed at him.

As Charlie raised himself into a sitting position, his head still swimming from its last contact with the ground, he saw Snape running as hard as he could, the enormous beast flapping behind him and screeching loudly.

Charlie struggled to his feet, looking around groggily for his wand, hoping to give chase again, but even as his fingers fumbled in the grass, discarding twigs, he knew it would be too late. Sure enough, by the time he had located his wand, he turned only to see the hippogriff circling the gates. Snape had managed to Disapparate just beyond the school's boundaries, along with Fenwick, Malfoy, and Bellatrix.

"Hagrid," muttered Charlie, still dazed, looking around. "HAGRID?"

He stumbled toward the burning house as an enormous figure emerged from out of the flames carrying Fang and Ludo on each shoulder. With a cry of thankfulness, Charlie sank to his knees. He was shaking in every limb, his body ached all over, and his breath came in painful stabs.

"Yeh all righ', Char? Yeh all righ'? Speak ter me..."

Hagrid's huge, hairy face was swimming above Charlie, blocking out the stars. Charlie could smell burnt wood and dog hair; he put out a hand and felt Ludo's reassuringly warm and alive body quivering beside him.

"No, I'm not," panted Charlie, beside himself. Still, he managed, "Are you?"

"Course I am... take more'n that ter finish me."

Hagrid put his hands under Charlie's arms and raised him up with such force that the boy's feet momentarily left the ground before the half-giant set him upright again. He could see blood trickling down Hagrid's cheek from a deep cut under one eye, which was swelling rapidly.

"We should put out your house," gulped Charlie, his throat clogged with emotion, "the charm's Aguamenti..."

"Knew it was summat like that," mumbled Hagrid, and he raised a smoldering pink, flowery umbrella and said, "Aguamenti!"

A jet of water flew out of the umbrella tip. Charlie raised his wand arm, which felt like lead, and murmured "Aguamenti" too. Together, he and Hagrid poured water on the house until the last flame was extinguished.

"'S not too bad," said Hagrid hopefully a few minutes later, looking at the smoking wreck. "Nothin' Dumbledore won' be able to put right..."

Charlie felt a searing pain in his stomach at the sound of the name. In the silence and the stillness, horror rose inside him.

"Hagrid..."

"I was bindin' up a couple o' Bowtruckle legs when I heard 'em coming," said Hagrid sadly, still staring at his wrecked cabin. "They'll bin burnt ter twigs, poor little things..."

"Hagrid..."

"But what happened, Char? I jus' saw them Death Eaters runnin' down from the castle, but what the ruddy hell was Snape doin' with 'em? Where's he gone — was he chasin' them?"

"He..." Charlie cleared his throat; it was dry from panic and the smoke. "Hagrid, he killed..."

"Killed?" said Hagrid loudly, staring down at Charlie. "Snape killed? What're yeh on abou', Char?"

"Dumbledore," breathed Charlie, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Snape killed... Dumbledore."

Hagrid simply looked at him, the little of his face that could be seen completely blank, uncomprehending.

"Dumbledore what, Char?"

"He's dead. Snape killed him..."

"Don' say that," said Hagrid roughly. "Snape kill Dumbledore — don' be stupid, Char. Wha's made yeh say tha'?"

"I saw it happen."

"Yeh couldn' have."

"I saw it, Hagrid."

Hagrid shook his head; his expression was disbelieving but sympathetic, and Charlie knew that Hagrid thought he had sustained a blow to the head, that he was confused, perhaps by the after-effects of a jinx.

"What musta happened was, Dumbledore musta told Snape ter go with them Death Eaters," Hagrid said confidently. "I suppose he's gotta keep his cover. Look, let's get yeh back up ter the school. Come on, Char..."

Charlie did not attempt to argue or explain. He was still shaking uncontrollably. Hagrid would find out soon enough, too soon... as they directed their steps back toward the castle, Charlie saw that many of its windows were lit now. He could imagine, clearly, the scenes inside as people moved from room to room, telling each other that Death Eaters had got in, that the Mark was shining over Hogwarts, that somebody must have been killed...

The oak front doors stood open ahead of them, light flooding out onto the drive and the lawn. Slowly, uncertainly, dressing-gowned people were creeping down the steps, looking around nervously for some sign of the Death Eaters who had fled into the night. Charlie's eyes, however, were fixed upon the ground at the foot of the tallest tower. He imagined that he could see a black, huddled mass lying in the grass there, though he was really too far away to see anything of the sort. Even as he stared wordlessly at the place where he thought Dumbledore's body must lie, however, he saw people beginning to move toward it.

"What're they all lookin' at?" said Hagrid, as he and Charlie approached the castle front, Fang and Ludo keeping as close as they could to their ankles. "Wha's that lyin' on the grass?" Hagrid added sharply, heading now toward the foot of the Astronomy Tower, where a small crowd was congregating. "See it, Char? Right at the foot of the tower? Under where the Mark... blimey... yeh don' think someone got thrown — ?"

Hagrid fell silent, the thought apparently too horrible to express aloud. Charlie walked alongside him, feeling the aches and pains in his face and his legs where the various hexes of the last half hour had hit him, though in an oddly detached way, as though somebody near him was suffering them. The real and inescapable pain was the awful pressing feeling in his chest.

He and Hagrid moved, dreamlike, through the murmuring crowd to the very front, where the dumbstruck students and teachers had left a gap.

Charlie heard Hagrid's moan of pain and shock, but he did not stop; he walked slowly forward until he reached the place where Dumbledore lay and crouched down beside him, collapsing over his grandfather's lifeless body.

He had known there was no hope from the moment that Harry had stopped him from plunging over the balcony, known that there was no hope, but there was still no preparation for seeing him here, spread-eagled, broken — the greatest wizard Charlie had ever, or would ever, meet, as well as the miraculous man who raised him since he was boy, the only father figure he'd ever known.

Dumbledore's eyes were closed, but for the strange angle of his arms and legs, he might have been sleeping. Charlie reached out, straightened the half-moon spectacles upon the crooked nose, and wiped a trickle of blood from the mouth with his own sleeve. Then he gazed down at the wise old face and tried to absorb the enormous and incomprehensible truth — that never again would Dumbledore speak to him, never again could he help, and never again would he breathe...

The thought haunted Charlie, as hot tears trickled down his bruised cheeks.

I'm so sorry our last words were in anger... I'm sorry...

The crowd murmured behind Charlie, and all their hearts shattered at the boy's strangled cry. After what seemed like a long time, Dumbledore's grandson became aware that he was kneeling upon something hard and looked down.

There appeared to be a locket that had fallen out of Dumbledore's pocket; it was made of heavy gold with a serpentine 'S' in glittering green stone inlay on the front. It had opened, perhaps due to the force with which it hit the ground. And although he could not feel more shock or horror or sadness than he felt already, Charlie knew, as he picked it up, that there was something wrong —

He turned the locket over in his hands. This was neither as large as the Horocrux locket he remembered seeing in the Pensieve, nor were there any markings upon it, no sign of Slytherin's mark. Moreover, there was nothing inside but a scrap of folded parchment wedged tightly into the place where a portrait should have been.

Automatically, without really thinking about what he was doing, Charlie pulled out the fragment of parchment, opened it, and read by the light of the many wands that had now been lit behind him:

To the Dark Lord,

I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who dicovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.

I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more.

R.A.B.

Charlie neither knew nor cared what the message meant. Only one thing mattered; this locket was not a Horcrux. Dumbledore had weakened himself on the journey for nothing. Charlie crumpled the parchment in his hand, and his eyes burned with tears as behind him Ludo began to howl.

Completely unaware of what was happening around him, Charlie sobbed heavily into his grandfather's chest, just as McGonagall raised a trembling wand to the sky, in the direction of the Dark Mark, and ignited the tip with a pearl-white light. One after the other, students and staff all followed her example, raising their wands in farewell. The sky, briefly emerald, transformed back into a starry black; The Dark Mark had vanished.

Charlie let out a deafening cry, suffers of grief wracking his body. The pain more unimaginable than anything he'd ever experienced before.

His grandfather, Albus Dumbledore, was dead... and as it seemed, it was entirely his fault...

————————————————————

(A/N: inserted this line break because I am NOT okay)

"C'mere, Char..."

"No."

"Yeh can' stay here, Char... Come on, now..."

"No!"

He did not want to leave Dumbledore's side, he did not want to move anywhere. Hagrid's hand on his shoulder was trembling. Then another voice said, "Charlie, please."

A much smaller and warmer hand had wrapped around his wrist and was pulling him upward. He obeyed its pressure without even really thinking about it. Only as he walked blindly back through the crowd did he realize that it was Hermione who was leading him back into the castle. His grip around her tightened and he sobbed uncontrollably into her shoulder, and she soothed him with gentle caresses, whispering condolences in his ear.

Incomprehensible voices battered him, sobs and shouts and wails stabbed the night, but Charlie and Hermione walked on, back up the steps into the Entrance Hall. Faces swam on the edges of Charlie's vision, people were peering at him, whispering, wondering, as they made their way toward the marble staircase.

"It's okay, shhh," whispered Hermione, giving Charlie a sideways hug as he sniffled into her embrace. "We're going to the hospital wing."

Charlie made to pull away from her, "No, I must go back! I can't leave him! Please, I'm fine..."

"It's McGonagall's orders, my love," Hermione told him delicately, as she reached out for his arm once again. "Everyone's up there, Harry and Ron and Elaina and everyone —"

Fear stirred in Charlie's chest; he had forgotten the inert figures he had left behind.

"Hermione, who else is dead?"

"Don't worry, none of us."

"But the Dark Mark — Malfoy said he stepped over a body —"

"He stepped over Bill," Hermione explained gently, pulling him along. "He'll be alright, of course, but Greyback attacked him. Madame Pomfrey says he won't look the same anymore..."

Charlie breathed slowly, "But the others... there were other bodies on the ground..."

"Neville and Professor Flitwick are both hurt, but Madame Pomfrey says they'll be alright. One of the Death Eaters is dead, he got hit by a Killing Curse that huge blond one was firing off everywhere —"

They had reached the hospital wing. Pushing open the doors, Charlie saw Neville lying, apparently asleep, in a bed near the door. Harry, Ron, Elaina, Luna, Tonks, and Lupin were gathered around another bed near the far end of the ward. At the sound of the doors opening, they all looked up. Elaina ran to Charlie and hugged him; Lupin moved forward too, looking anxious.

"Are you alright, Charlie?"

"Of course not.... but how's Bill?"

Nobody answered. Charlie looked over Elaina's shoulder and saw an unrecognizable face lying on Bill's pillow, so badly slashed and ripped that he looked grotesque. Madame Pomfrey was dabbing at his wounds with some harsh-smelling green ointment. Charlie vividly remembered how Snape had mended Malfoy's Sectumsempra wounds so easily with his wand; his jaw clenched involuntarily.

"It looks bad," said Ron, eyeing Charlie's disturbed expression, "but Dumbledore will know something that'll fix him up, I'm sure. Where is he, by the way? Bill fought those maniacs on Dumbledore's orders, it's the least he could do —"

"Ron," muttered Harry, stepping forward once Charlie fell silent. "Dumbledore's dead."

"No!" Lupin looked wildly from Harry to Charlie, as though hoping the latter might contradict him, but when Charlie did not, Lupin collapsed into a chair beside Bill's bed, his hands over his face. Charlie had never seen Lupin lose control before; he felt as though he was intruding upon something private, indecent. He turned away and caught Ron's eye instead, exchanging in silence a look that confirmed what Harry had said.

"How did he die?" whispered Tonks, feeling a sudden twinge of pain for the young boy stood next to her. "How did it happen?"

"Snape killed him," spat Charlie bitterly, unable to control himself. "I was there. They forced me to watch. Malfoy had disarmed him, and then my father, Bellatrix, and Snape came to finish the job. That's when he did it — Snape did it... the Killing Curse..." Charlie couldn't go on; Hermione pulled his face into her chest, placing kisses on his forehead as she held him tightly.

Madame Pomfrey burst into tears. Nobody paid her any attention except Elaina, who whispered, "Shh! Listen!"

Gulping, Madame Pomfrey pressed her fingers to her mouth, her eyes wide. Somewhere out in the darkness, a phoenix was singing in a way Charlie had never heard before: a stricken lament of terrible beauty. And Charlie felt, as he had felt about phoenix song before, that the music was inside him, not without. It was his own grief turned magically to song that echoed across the grounds and through the castle windows.

How long they all stood there, listening, Charlie did not know, nor why it seemed to ease their pain a little to listen to the sound of their mourning. They all fell silent. Fawkes's lament was still echoing over the dark grounds outside.

As the music reverberated upon the air, unbidden, unwelcome thoughts slunk into Charlie's mind... had they taken his grandfather's body from the foot of the tower yet? What would happen to it next? Where would it rest? He clenched his fists tightly in his pockets. He could feel the small cold lump of the fake Horcrux against the knuckles of his right hand, providing him with yet another painful reminder that Dumbledore's death had been for nothing.

The doors of the hospital wing burst open, making them all jump: Hagrid was striding up the ward. The little of his face that was not obscured by hair or beard was soaking and swollen; he was shaking with tears, a vast, spotted handkerchief in his hand.

"I've done it," he choked, avoiding Charlie's saddened eyes. "M-Moved him. Professor Sprout's got the kids back in bed. Professor Flitwick's lyin down, but he says he'll be all righ' in a jiffy, an' Professor Slughorn says the Ministry's bin informed."

As the words hung in the air, Charlie became aware suddenly that the grounds were silent. Fawkes had stopped singing. The world seemed to have stopped spinning. The harsh reality was too much too bare.

And he knew, without knowing how he knew it, that the phoenix had gone, had left Hogwarts for awhile, just as Dumbledore had left the school, had left the world... had left Charlie.

———————————————————

All lessons were suspended, all examinations postponed. Charlie was diligently avoiding contact with majority of people, wallowing in his grief. Still, Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Elaina spent their time checking on him, hoping he'd one day confess his inner thoughts of sadness to them.

The beautiful weather seemed to mock him; Charlie could imagine how it would have been if Dumbledore had not died, and they had had this time together at the very end of the year, end-of-term examinations finished, the pressure of homework lifted... and hour by hour, he put off saying the thing that he knew he must say, doing what he knew he must do, because it was too hard to forgo any source of comfort.

Neville had shortly been discharged, but Bill remained under Madame Pomfrey's care. His scars were as bad as ever; in truth, he now bore a distinct resemblance to Mad-Eye Moody, though thankfully with both eyes and legs, but in personality he seemed just the same as ever. All that appeared to have changed was that he now had a great liking for very rare steaks.

The day of Dumbledore's funeral was difficult for everybody; the Hogwarts Express would be leaving an hour afterwards. Downstairs, Charlie found the mood in the Great Hall subdued. Everybody was wearing their dress robes and no one seemed very hungry. Professor McGonagall had left the throne-like chair in the middle of the staff table empty. Snape's place was filled by by Rufus Scrimgeour. Charlie avoided his yellowish eyes as they scanned the Hall; Charlie had the uncomfortable feeling that Scrimgeour was looking for him.

Among Scrimgeour's entourage, Charlie spotted the red hair and horn-rimmed glasses of Percy Weasley. Ron gave no sign that he was aware of Percy, apart from stabbing pieces of kipper with unwonted venom.

Over at the Slytherin table Crabbe and Goyle were muttering together. Hulking boys though they were, they looked oddly lonely without the tall, pale figure of Malfoy between them, bossing them around. Charlie had not spared Malfoy much thought. His animosity was all for Snape, but he had not forgotten the fear in Malfoy's voice on that Tower top, nor the fact that he had lowered his wand before the other Death Eaters arrived. Charlie still despised Malfoy still for his infatuation with the Dark Arts, but now the tiniest drop of pity mingled with his dislike. Where, Charlie wondered, was Malfoy now, and what was Voldemort making him do under threat of killing him and his parents?

Charlie's thoughts were interrupted by a nudge in the ribs from Harry. Professor McGonagall had risen to her feet and the mournful hum in the Hall died away at once.

"It is nearly time," she announced, frowning. "Please follow your Heads of House out into the grounds. Gryffindors, after me."

They filed out from behind their benches in near silence. Charlie glimpsed Slughorn at the head of the Slytherin column, wearing magnificent long emerald-green robes embroidered with silver. He had never seen Professor Sprout, Head of the Hufflepuffs, looking so clean; there was not a single patch on her hat, and when they reached the Entrance Hall, they found Madame Pince standing beside Filch, she in a thick black veil that fell to her knees, he in an ancient black suit and tie reeking of mothballs.

They were heading, as Charlie saw when he stepped out on to the stone steps from the front doors, towards the lake. The warmth of the sun caressed his face as they followed Professor McGonagall in silence to the place where hundreds of chairs had been set out in rows. An aisle ran down the centre of them; there was a marble table standing at the front, all chairs facing it.

It was the most beautiful summer's day...

An extraordinary assortment of people had already settled into half of the chairs: shabby and smart, old and young. Most Charlie did not recognize, but there were a few that he did, including members of the Order of the Phoenix: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mad-Eye Moody, Tonks, her hair miraculously returned to vividest pink, Remus Lupin, with whom she seemed to be holding hands, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill supported by Fleur and followed by Fred and George, who were wearing jackets of black dragonskin. The castle ghosts were there too, barely visible in the bright sunlight, discernible only when they moved, shimmering insubstantially in the gleaming air.

Charlie, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Elaina filed into seats at the end of a row beside the lake. People were whispering to each other; it sounded like a breeze in the grass, but the birdsong was louder by far. The crowd continued to swell; with a great rush of affection for both of them, Charlie saw Neville being helped into a seat by Luna. They were the only ones from the D. A. that responded to Hermione's summons the night that Dumbledore had died.

Not long after everyone was seated, Hagrid was walking slowly up the aisle between the chairs. He was crying quite silently, his face gleaming with tears, and in his arms, wrapped in purple velvet spangled with golden stars, was what Charlie knew to be Dumbledore's body. A sharp pain rose in Charlie's throat at this sight, and having noticed this, Hermione interlaced their hands to comfort him; the knowledge that Dumbledore's body was so close seemed to take all warmth from the day. Harry was looking at his feet, unable to watch. Ron looked white and shocked. Tears were falling thick and fast into both Elaina and Hermione's laps.

And then, without warning, it swept over Charlie, the dreadful truth, more completely and undeniably than it had until now. Dumbledore was dead, gone...

Charlie clutched the cold locket in his hand so tightly that it hurt, but he could not prevent hot tears spilling from his eyes. He looked away from Hermione and the others, and stared out over the lake, towards the Forest, as the ceremony began. There was no waking from his nightmare, no comforting whisper in the dark to tell him that he was safe, that it was all in his imagination; the last and greatest of his protectors had died and he was more alone than he had ever been before.

The little tufty-haired man in plain black robes, who coordinated the funeral, had finished his speech at last and sat back down. Charlie waited for somebody else to get to their feet; he expected speeches, probably from the Minister, but nobody moved.

Then several people screamed.

Bright, white flames had erupted around Dumbledore's body and the table upon which it lay: higher and higher they rose, obscuring the body. White smoke spiralled into the air and made strange shapes; Charlie thought, for one heart-stopping moment, that he saw a phoenix fly joyfully into the blue, but next second the fire had vanished. In its place was a white marble tomb, encasing Dumbledore's body and the table on which he had rested.

There were a few more cries of shock as a shower of arrows soared through the air, but they fell far short of the crowd. It was, Charlie knew, the centaurs' tribute to Dumbledore's kindness. Eventually, the buzz of conversation grew louder around them and people began to get to their feet.

Luna helped Neville up. Harry, Elaina, and Ron stood too. Charlie stayed sitting, until Hermione — her face glazed with tears — placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. He turned to her; she had a blazen look on her face, like the day he'd kissed her on the steps of the Entrance Hall, as if she was trying to figure out what he might try and say at some point. He grasped her hand tighter as they stood together, gently using the back of his index finger to wipe her tears.

"I love you," he told her sincerely, as though he was scared of losing her the same way he lost his grandfather.

"I love you too," Hermione reciprocating, smiling gently into his embrace.

Needing a minute alone, however, Charlie excused himself hastily, and strolled down the aisle of chairs towards his grandfather's tomb, earning curious looks from the loitering crowd of spectators who had yet to begin their voyage back to the castle. Moving felt more bearable than sitting to Charlie, albeit there was an evident wobble in his stride.

As Charlie reached the tomb, he knelt down near the edge and let his tears stream mindlessly down his reddened cheeks. He sniffled, weeping as he looked down, and before he realized what he was doing, he had leaned forward and placed a kiss to the side of the marble.

"I'm s-sorry," he muttered, as though somewhere out there his grandfather might've answered his prayer. "I'm so, so sorry... I'll never forgive myself what happened... if only I had just — I'm sorry... I l-love you, truly I do, and my only hope is that you'll find the peace that you deserve. T-There will not be a single day that passes that I won't miss you with every ounce of my being, I promise you... I'll see you again someday soon, say hi to mum for me, yeah?" and he ran his hand along the engraving of Dumbledore's name one last time, "G-Goodbye, granddad, thank you for raising me into the young man I am today... I owe you my life."

And just as Charlie made to scramble to his feet, dusting himself off at the knees, he felt a slender hand find refuge upon his shoulder.

"Charles," came Professor McGonagall's voice, and Charlie cocked his head to the left to find her peering at him through tearful eyes. Still, there was a slight hopeful smile written across her lips. "in the light of what's happened... should you feel the need to talk to someone..."

"I appreciate it," said Charlie flatly, his eyes closing to conceal his tears, "but please, there's no need..." and he tried to turn his back on his Transfiguration Professor, unwilling to hear any words of sentiment.

But Professor McGonagall was relentless, and she thought it best to leave Charlie with a few words to remember before he departed:

"You should know... you meant the world to him."

Unable to help himself, a single tear slipped down his face; Charlie looked to the ground.

"And him to me," he muttered, anxiously playing with his hands. "I just wish I got the chance to tell him that myself."

With nothing left to say, Charlie walked off, turning his back on McGonagall and on Dumbledore's tomb at last, taking the long away around the lake to collect his thoughts. Still, he couldn't seem to get a moment to himself.

"Charles!"

He turned; Rufus Scrimgeour was limping rapidly towards him around the bank, leaning on his walking stick.

"I've been hoping to have a word... do you mind if I walk a little way with you?"

"No," said Charlie indifferently, and set off again.

"Charles, this was a dreadful tragedy," whispered Scrimgeour quietly, "I cannot tell you how appalled I was to hear of it. Dumbledore was a very great wizard. We had our disagreements, as you know, but no one knows better than I —"

"What do you want?" asked Charlie flatly.

Scrimgeour looked annoyed but, as before, hastily modified his expression to one of sorrowful understanding.

"You are, of course, devastated," he said. "I know how it feels to lose a grandfather. I know you will forever carry his legacy with you. The bond between the two of you —"

"What do you want?" Charlie repeated, coming to a halt.

Scrimgeour stopped too, leaned on his stick and stared at Charlie, his expression shrewd now.

"The word is that Harry Potter was with him when he left the school the night that he died. The Ministry was able to put the pieces together."

"Glad to hear it," grumbled Charlie, shaking his head. "But I'll be damned if I tell you anything. My grandfather didn't want anyone to know."

"Such loyalty is admirable, of course," said Scrimgeour, who seemed to be restraining his irritation with difficulty, "but Dumbledore is gone, Charles. He's gone."

"He will only be gone from the school when none here are loyal to him," muttered Charlie, smiling in spite of himself.

"My dear boy... even Dumbledore cannot return from the —"

"I am not saying he can. You wouldn't understand. I've got nothing to tell you."

Scrimgeour hesitated, then said, in what was evidently supposed to be a tone of delicacy, "The Ministry can offer you all sorts of protection, you know, Charles. I would be delighted to place a couple of my Aurors at your service —"

Charlie laughed bitterly.

"The Dark Lord wants my friends and I dead, and I doubt Aurors are going to stop him. So thanks for the offer, but no thanks."

Scrimgeour turned a nasty purple colour highly reminiscent of Dolores Umbridge.

"You truly are Dumbledore's grandson, aren't you? Raised you in his image, hasn't he?"

"Don't flatter me, Rufus," laughed Charlie, catching the Minister off guard with the informal term. "I'd only be so lucky to become half of what my grandfather was... still, I appreciate your counterfeit sentiments. This conversation is finished though, yes?"

Scrimgeour glared at him for another moment, then turned and limped away without another word. Charlie could see Percy and the rest of the Ministry delegation waiting for him, casting nervous glances at the sobbing Hagrid and Grawp, who were still in their seats. Harry, Ron and Hermione were hurrying towards Charlie, passing Scrimgeour going in the opposite direction; Charlie turned and walked slowly on, waiting for them to catch up, which they finally did in the shade of a beech tree under which they had sat in happier times.

"What did Scrimgeour want?" Hermione whispered, reaching out to interlace their hands out of instinct.

"Same thing he wanted from Harry at Christmas," shrugged Charlie, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it gently. "Wanted me to give him inside information on Dumbledore and be the Ministry's new poster boy."

Ron seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, then he said loudly.

"Look, let me go back and hit Percy!"

"It's not worth it," Harry said firmly, grabbing his arm.

"It'll make me feel better!"

For the first time in a long while, Charlie smiled softly, and him and Ron shared a quick nod to one another, signifying their forgotten resentment under the circumstances. Harry beamed at the interaction. Even Hermione grinned a little.

The four of them headed up towards Gryffindor Tower. They got changed, ensuring they would be ready to leave for the Hogwarts Express later that afternoon.

Charlie's breath shook. He knew what he needed to do next, but he felt more comfortable doing it in the presence of his friends. He turned to Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"Listen, I need to go back to the tower."

Harry and Ron looked at him with simultaneous confusion, but Hermione seemed to understand. She nodded at him, helping him back out the portrait hole without protest.

"Let's go, then."

The four of them made their way to the Astronomy Tower, up the stairs and onto the ramparts. To where it had happened. To where Dumbledore had died.

There it was. The rail in which Dumbledore had been sent over. Charlie walked straight across the room, not sparing a glance to the place he had once been forced to watch his grandfather's death. The place in which he had been held, unable to prevent what had happened, unable to do anything until it was far too late.

He stood there for a little while, looking out across the grounds, taking a moment alone with his grief.  It was unbearable. Charlie had never felt a heartache like this before, it was almost lethal. Hell, even the frequent thought of throwing himself over the edge of the balcony seemed more appealing, less painful. Still, he looked on, shedding a few tears in temperance. The afternoon sun was shimmering off of the lake.

Soon enough, Charlie felt, rather than saw, Hermione come up beside him.

"I can't believe that we might never come back." she said softly. "Have you heard that the school might close? It seems illogical, doesn't it?"

"Does it?" inquired Charlie, albeit his eyes were locked upon the horizon. "There is no Hogwarts without Dumbledore."

There was a bitter silence, and the wind seemed to blow chilling air at the most inopportune time.

"I'm not coming back even if it does reopen," muttered Harry, as he and Ron joined the other two on the balcony. There was a pregnant pause, and then, he added, "I've got to finish whatever Dumbledore started. I have to track down the rest of the Horcruxes. That's the only way to end this."

"Speaking of which," said Charlie, and he pulled the fake locket from his pocket, opened it, and passed it to Harry. "Looks as though someone had already found this one and put a fake in its place."

Harry took the counterfeit Horocrux and carefully read the parchment inside; Ron and Hermione looked over his shoulder, each pair of eyes perusing the note carefully.

"R. A. B.?" whispered Harry, handing the locket back to Charlie, "but who was that?"

"Dunno," shrugged Charlie, leaning over the ramparts. He felt no curiosity at all about R.A.B. He doubted that he would ever feel curious again. "But whoever they are, they've got the real Horocrux... which means it was all for nothing... all of it..."

Hermione studied Charlie's troubled face for a moment, and a twinge of pain erupted in her chest. There was a long silence. The crowd on the grounds below had almost dispersed now, the stragglers giving the monumental figure of Grawp a wide berth as he cuddled Hagrid, whose howls of grief were still echoing up to the Astronomy Tower.

Ron, slightly uneasy, decided to break the silence, "What'll happen to us once we leave?"

"I'm going back to the Dursleys' once more, but it'll be a short visit, and then I'll be gone for good," sighed Harry, looking towards the sunny sky. "I thought I might go back to Godric's Hollow. For me, it started there, all of it. I've just got a feeling I need to go there. After that, I'm not sure. But I'll let you three know when I do —"

To his shock, Hermione laughed.

"Oh, Harry. You know I admire your courage, but sometimes, you can be incredibly thick."

Harry did a double-take, his eyebrow kinked in confusion.

"You don't really think you're going to be able to find all of those Horcruxes on your own, do you?" Hermione continued, but it appeared to be a trick question. "You need us, Harry."

Harry looked at Charlie, who was returning his gaze with full commitment to Hermione's words.

"You said to us once before," he said quietly, "that there was time to turn back if we wanted to. We've had time, haven't we? This is what my grandfather wanted us to do. We're going to end this war together, Harry, whether your like it or not. This ends with us. You're going to kill Voldemort... and if I meet Severus Snape along the way," he added under his breath, "so much the better for me, so much the worse for him."

"We're with you whatever happens," assured Ron, clapping a hand over his friend's shoulder. "But, mate, you're going to have to come round my mum and dad's house before we do anything else, even Godric's Hollow."

"Why?"

"Bill and Fleur's wedding, remember?"

Charlie looked stunned for a moment; the idea that anything as normal as a wedding could still exist seemed incredible and yet wonderful.

"Yeah, we shouldn't miss that," he said finally, and lowered his head in a final act of remembrance. He felt numb. There were no more tears capable of leaving his eyes. Still, he breathed, and loved deeply.

In spite of everything, in spite of the dark and twisting path he saw stretching ahead for himself, in spite of the final battle he knew must come, whether in a month, in a year, or in ten, Charlie felt his heart lift at the thought that there was still one last golden day of peace left to enjoy with Harry, Ron and Hermione.

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

[therapy sign up here ✍🏼]

this chapter was a ROLLERCOASTER my god...

I can't believe we're onto the final chapter of this story... we've all come so far!

I'm forever grateful for you <3

are you ready for DH? lmk!

xo, Selena