Sky High

Chapter Two: Ain't Nothing Gets Past the Tonks-a-nator!

Charlie absentmindedly grabbed the watering can and poured its contents onto the gillyweed he was tending to. Charlie always tolerated Herbology--it meant classes under the sun, fresh air, and the handling of nature--but today was horribly long and boring. He knew why. He was itching to get over to the Quidditch pitch and work his players to the death. They had narrowly beaten Slytherin two weeks ago and flattened Ravenclaw four days prior, and now, it was time to prepare for the Championship. Charlie felt the contradicting feelings of nervousness and excitement race about in his taut stomach every time he thought about the impending final. Ten days--Charlie had just ten days to work himself silly at practice, to snag that Quidditch Championship trophy one last time.

Oh, and to deal with a gigantic fire-breathing dragon.

That, and N.E.W.T.s.

Not to forget he still wasn't sure what he was going to do after he graduated.

Merlin, was his stomach doing Wronski Feints now.

"Charlie! Look out!" Tonks cried, whacking his hand sharply. Charlie's eyes snapped back into focus and he saw that his gillyweed was completely submerged in water.

"Ah!" Charlie yelped, and immediately pulled the watering can away from the drowning plant. Wet, gloppy soil was spilling over the edge of the pot, making quite a mess. He hastily took out his wand and magicked away the mess before taking a deep breath and widening his washed-out, light eyes.

His large biceps tightened as he prepared to get a walloping from Tonks, but was caught by surprise when he felt her hand on his shoulder. He cocked his head sideways and looked down at Tonks, who was nearly two heads shorter than him.

"You are one distracted guy," she said quietly, her voice heavy with tranquility. Tonks' tranquility eased Charlie greatly, which surprised him, because he really was tense. But the platonic, caring calm in her voice was relief that Charlie hadn't felt in months.

Yes, yes I am! Charlie cried out mentally. I've got millions of people loading Quidditch and jobs and grades on me, and I'm about to crack! I don't know what to do! Everyone expects me to win this match and then go off and play professionally but I really don't think I want it! But what is everyone else going to say? I can't hold on to this much longer, Tonks!

"The Quidditch Final's around the corner," Charlie said, smiling. "You know how it gets."

Tonks, however, wasn't convinced by his smiling demeanor. She narrowed her eyes and raised an eyebrow.

"Charlie Weasley! You can't fool me!" Tonks hissed, crossing her arms over her chest. "You've been on the team since second year and you've gone through these four times--and not once, not even four years ago, were you stressed out over it!"

Charlie inwardly winced. Tonks had a point. Charlie was naturally nonchalant and carefree--he never worried about anything, which often annoyed his mum greatly, and was always levelheaded.

Until this year.

Fortunately for Charlie, Professor Sprout's voice rang through the greenhouse, announcing the end of class.

"Can't talk Tonks! Gotta go practice!" Charlie breathed, and snatched Beau (who had been working several tables away with a curvy Ravenclaw) by the arm on his way out to the pitch.

"Okay, folks, we've got one last chance for us as a complete team to win this thing," Charlie declared twenty minutes later inside the locker room. The team was busy pulling on the outer equipment, like shin guards and gloves and elbow pads. Charlie glanced around at his team, and felt his heart relax. The 1987 Gryffindor Quidditch Team. His team.

My excellent Chasers, Charlie thought, grinning at the trio. There was of course Beau, who was busy lacing up his Quidditch boots. Next to him sat fellow seventh year Sabine Sinatra, a beautiful, though chilly girl, whose intelligence and reserved nature only added to her beautiful sophistication. She was tiny--Charlie towered over her--and to this day her talent on the pitch still amazed Charlie; she seemed like the last person to enjoy such a brutal game. Sixth year Guy Dirk silently adjusted his shin guards, his demeanor calm but his eyes blazing. To those who didn't know him, Guy was quite intimidating--he was a giant, really; the tall, dark, and handsome type; the strong and silent one. Guy's loyalty to Charlie usually put the sneering Slytherins in their place whenever they threatened the Gryffindor captain. Charlie was always appreciative of him, and had already decided to pass his captainship down to Guy for the next year--a position he would fill excellently (and quite an emotional process for Charlie, too--he'd been captain since his fifth year).

"We've got to give it our all, guys," Charlie said, slamming his fist into his palm. "And I know we can do it. We've done it for the past four years!"

Beater Jordan Spinnet chuckled as she stretched on the floor. She was a strong, brash seventh year whose talent was a family trait--both her father and her mother played when they were at Hogwarts, and rumor had it that her little sister Alicia (who was the same age as Charlie's first-year twin brothers) was quite skilled in the pitch as well. Her fellow Beater, McCallum Aiken, sat beside her, cracking his knuckles. A kind-faced fifth year who was exceedingly polite, his aggressiveness was almost unbelievable, completely contradictory to his well-mannered self off of the pitch.

"Don't worry, Charlie!" piped up a young Oliver Wood. "We want it as bad as you do!"

"He's right, you know!" Beau agreed, adjusting a shin guard. "Honestly, mate, you'd think that we'd just pop out on our brooms and go chase butterflies!"

Charlie gave a little laugh and looked from Beau to his Keeper, Oliver Wood. This was Oliver's second year on the team--a special find of Charlie's--and his Quidditch skills were almost prodigal; not unlike Charlie's. Oliver's thirteen-year-old body still needed time to grow, but that didn't stop him from performing spectacular saves and awesome catches. He was truly a wonder--there was something about Oliver that Charlie didn't have, and he couldn't quite place it just yet.

Charlie shook his head and pointed with his thumb out to the pitch. "C'mon, mates, we've got to pull out all the stops this time 'round!"

The weather outside was fantastic for Quidditch weather, and whether it was the weather or Charlie's yearning to snag the Cup this year, the team performed spectacularly. Charlie's Chasers performed with great ease and seemed to have some sort of mind-reading going on; they always knew where each other was and they always performed together quite fluidly (which had come from their being teammates for four years). The practiced without resistance for a while and then Oliver began to Keep, and Charlie was thrilled to see that not one single Quaffle (save one or two) got past the Keeper. Meanwhile the Beaters smacked around Bludgers and Charlie began to perform amazing dives and catches; it put them all in a very good mood, and when the sun had begin to set, Charlie called it quits on the practice.

"Excellent work, mates!" Charlie said cheerfully, for his spirits were quite high. "I know we can keep it up!"

The team undressed, gabbing first about Quidditch, and then into more personal, gossip-y type things, before Sabine rounded up on Charlie.

"So, Charlie," Sabine said with difficultly, trying to unhook a kneepad and a shin guard at the same time. "Have you been studying for those N.E.W.T.S. yet?"

Charlie felt his stomach sink slightly, though he had noted a couple of minutes ago he was quite famished.

N.E.W.T.s in Herbology, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures, and Charms.

"You're in a lot of N.E.W.T.S. classes, aren't you?" Sabine continued. "Why is that?"

Of course, Sabine had no idea that that statement made Charlie swell with anger and frustration and nervousness (all at the same time, too!). It was a combination of his indignation that everyone else just assumed he was only good for Quidditch and his stress of the finals and the Cup and his worry of how others would take his decision to become a dragon trainer.

WHOA-A!

When did I decide that! Charlie's eyes grew wide, which Sabine mistook for pre-exam jitters.

"Ah, sorry, Charlie, I shouldn't have brought that up," Sabine said somberly. "We've got enough to worry about. Besides, there's still two weeks until they come 'round."

"I'm not worrying," Charlie replied.

Beau raised an eyebrow as he continued to strip off his equipment.

Charlie continued to shovel mashed potatoes and chicken into his mouth, savoring the delicious taste. He was an eater of habit: he mixed all of his foods together and ate quickly, never taking a sip of his drink until he had finished filling his stomach. Tonks often concluded that Charlie would throw up his meal because of how quickly he devoured everything and how disgusting some things (like mashed potatoes and chicken) looked all mingled as one; Beau often concluded with some disgusting joke about Charlie's food that made everyone else lose their appetites (but strangely enough, never Charlie).

"Charlie!" Tonks snapped, "good lord. What are you possibly in a hurry to do?"

Charlie had just scraped off the last bit of mashed-chicken-potato and began to fill up his plate again.

"I had Quidditch practice today, Tonks," Charlie whined, taking a sip from his goblet. "I'm starving! I haven't eaten since noon."

"And you hardly touched your food at noon, too," Oliver Wood observed, who was sitting two or three seats down and across from Charlie. He grinned. "Quidditch player's gotta eat!"

Charlie winked and jabbed his head as he ladled gravy over some rice. He didn't notice the look shared between Beau and Tonks.

They chatted about nothing until Charlie had finished off his third helpings, Beau his second, and Tonks her first. Charlie looked over towards the professor's table to see Professor Kettleburn standing up and bidding Professors Sinistra and Snape farewell; Charlie could see that he held a giant ham and an immense bit of steak.

For Selda, of course!

"I'm...uh, going to run up to the dorm real fast!" Charlie said quickly, standing up.

"Now Charles," Beau began in a stuffy, upper-class accent (quite a different tone from his Cockney accent), using Charlie's real (and hated) name, "we have a long-standing tradition here, chap. The sweet delicacies, old boy! We stay until we wine and dine with style!"

"Why can't you just say stick around for dessert!" Tonks breathed, rolling her eyes. Truth was, Tonks would be just as quick to mess around like Beau, but she never liked to prove that in front of the Chaser.

"Because, dahling," Beau began, but stopped himself when he noticed Charlie had left the Great Hall.

"Oh, he left," Beau said, sounding truly surprised.

Charlie had learned stealth and speed from years of being an athlete, and he put them to the test tonight as he tiptoed and sprinted around a grumbling Professor Kettleburn, who wasn't particularly enjoying dragging around two huge pieces of meat. Finally Kettleburn arrived at Selda's paddock and Charlie hid behind the heavy trees that

What happened next was completely accidental, Charlie would insist in later years. Not once did he think that he'd overhear the spell used to open the paddock; not once did that thought cross his mind, and not once did he think he might use it.

Well...

"Corpus Invictus!" Professor Kettleburn hissed, and pointed his wand past the magical barrier and at Selda. A green spark of magic erupted from the point of his wand and sparked at the tip; Selda, however, began to trance, and immediately calmed down upon Kettleburn's casting of the spell. She lolled in place, snorting every so often.

"--Dorame!" Kettleburn concluded, and bright blue flashes of magical light erupted from Selda and curved above her before slamming down on the paddock's gate--which promptly swung open.

Charlie slapped his forehead. Great.

But even Kettleburn didn't step inside the paddock, for Selda was no longer dazed and began to prance around quite gracefully for a giant lizard, eager to dine. Kettleburn threw the meat into the pen, stepped away, cried, "Fabula!" watched the magic close up the pen, made sure it was secure, and left.

"Hoo, boy," Charlie murmured, rubbing his temples. Damn temptation!

After Kettleburn left the area, Charlie made sure he watched him walk back up to the castle. When he could no longer see him, he jumped out from behind the tree and slowly walked towards the pen.

Selda looked up briefly but was highly uninterested in the buff redhead coming her way, and went back to stripping off pieces of ham. That made Charlie chortle a bit--it was rather comforting, knowing that there was something that could care less about you. Still slowly he approached the paddock, feeling his heart pump faster and faster, until he found that he was right by the smooth railing. He put his hand up to the paddock and tapped it; the invisible magical field appeared, glowing and rippling in response from his touch.

"So you're locked up in there good, eh, girl?" Charlie muttered. He squatted down so that he was eye level with the lounging, feeding dragon. Smiling, Charlie cocked his head to get a better look.

"I kinda feel what you're going through," Charlie said suddenly. "You know. Caged in with a bunch of stupid kids watching you." He shuddered. "Sorry about that, Selda. You know...for doing to you what I dislike being done to me."

Selda was looking at him through her icy eyes but was still ripping apart the ham. Listening.

"I am talking...to a dragon," Charlie said. He snorted and his eyes widened, but what surprised him the most was the Selda herself made a derisive noise, as if to say, so?

Charlie lounged around for a while longer, watching the moon rise and stars stud the night sky while laying on his back. It was cloudy, but it added to the scenery.

Quidditch. Should I join Quidditch? Charlie mused inwardly. I like Quidditch. There's nothing more in the world, really, that I like more'n Quidditch. I like being outside and I like action. But that's what the Dragon Institute is offering too. 'Cept it's new action, new outdoors. But I'm not sick of the Quidditch action and outdoors. GOD! What am I gonna do? Bill's already doin' a great job for Gringotts--Mum and Dad're proud. He didn't pull anything surprising. But he was just a prefect and Head Boy. I'm just a prefect, though. But a Quidditch player. I wonder where I got this talent from? Can't be Uncle Bilius--guy's a nutbag. Maybe Uncle Gideon and Uncle Fabian. But they don't have time to play Quidditch anymore--not with You-Know-Who running around the place. I wonder if You-Know-Who would ever crash a Quidditch match? He hasn't yet, but who's to say he wouldn't? What would Mum and Dad think? What would everyone else think? "Oh, Charlie! He was destined to be a Quidditch player, and then this tragedy happened!" That's crap! I hate thinking about this. I feel less and less excited about Quidditch as my future. Makes my stomach flip. The dragon's more calming now than my hobby. I wonder if Quidditch is just a hobby? But hobbies are great. I mean, who wouldn't want to do their hobby for the rest of their lives? And I really like the feeling of flying. But I wonder if that would leave me when I've got to wake up everyday at, like, three in the morning to begin practicing. And I wonder if my Quidditch teammates would be any nice? I like playing with Beau and the others. I wouldn't want to play with anyone else. But Beau's already got something lined up. He's not playing Quidditch. And he likes the game just as much as I do. And he's good, too. ARRRGH.

Charlie let out a deep sigh; he digressed so much, which must come from his inability to do anything boring.

Like thinking.

N.E.W.T.s are going to be hell.

"I don't know what to do," Charlie said aloud. To his surprise he looked over and saw that Selda was lying right next to him. Their eyes met, Charlie's full of quiet surprise and Selda's full of steely will, when suddenly Selda made a weird noise and leaned her head back. Charlie wasn't sure what she was going to do until he heard the unmistakable huffing of a sneeze.

"OH SH--," Charlie cried, and immediately pushed himself upwards and rolled to his left just as a jet of blue flame escaped from Selda's nostrils.

Selda snorted and looked up at Charlie, who shook his head.

"That's a sign," Charlie said, "for me to leave."

Charlie made a motion with his head--that weird upward nod that boys do--to Selda as a goodbye and trudged up to the castle, no longer thinking about Quidditch and his future but about Selda. That dragon was anything but vicious: she lay beside him, never growling or snapping, but--kind of--just...listening.

He liked that dragon.

Ten minutes later he had given the password to the Fat Lady ("Phalangellus") and climbed into his cozy Common Room. It was later than he had realized: only three or four students were lounging around, and, to his dismay, one of them was--

"CHARLIE! Where have you been?" Tonks snapped, storming over to her friend, her arms at her side. "You were wandering aimlessly again, weren't you? You've got to stop doing that, Charlie. It's pointless and a waste of time."

Of course, he hadn't been wandering aimlessly (something Charlie did do sometimes, usually without realizing it). But it sounded good to him.

"Charlie, you've got your head up in the clouds," Tonks said, more calmly. She crossed her arms over her chest. "You've got to tell me, Charlie, what's been wrong lately."

"Nothing," Charlie said quickly.

"Nothing? NOTHING? You think I'm gonna believe that? I know you better than you know yourself, Charlie!" Tonks said loudly, putting her hands on her hips. Charlie took a step backwards. She could be quite intimidating--you know, for someone about a foot shorter than he was. "You're not as cheerful as you usually are. And--and you're more distracted."

"You just told me I've got my head up in the clouds!" Charlie shot back, not unkindly.

"Sure, but you've been more distracted, and in a dismal kind of way," Tonks argued.

She'll make a good Auror, Charlie thought. For someone who's so klutzy, she really does pay attention to details.

"And it's something big, Charlie," Tonks continued. Charlie was only half-listening.

"Oh?" he replied, lukewarm.

"You never get nervous for Quidditch--that's just a natural thing. Nope, never. And you don't really care about grades, ever...but you did take a lot of N.E.W.T. classes for some reason," Tonks rambled off, talking to herself.

Everything that's supposed to not be bothering me is, Charlie thought.

"But--perhaps all that's what's bothering you!" Tonks said suddenly. "Which is why you've been all weird lately."

Mildly surprising, Charlie gave her a small smile. "Tonks! We've got ten days to the Cup and two weeks to N.E.W.T.s. I'm just tired, you know?"

"But Charlie--!" Tonks began.

"Goodnight, Tonks," Charlie said, turning away. He slowly walked up the stairs and went into his room, where his roomies and Beau were already lying in bed, asleep. He quickly put on his pajamas, filled himself a cup of water, and climbed into bed. For a couple of minutes he sat up in silence before he rolled over on his side. He heard a stir from Beau's bed.

"Ain't nothing gets past the Tonks-a-nator," Beau said suddenly.

Charlie ignored him and attempted to fall asleep, only to drift away, an hour later, into an uneasy, though dreamless, sleep.

Chapter Three: Two Days, Four Days

Charlie rubbed his temples and had to use every bit of energy inside of him to keep from screaming in frustration. Massive piles of spellbooks and theorems and textbooks sat in front of his tired, aggravated face, taunting him, daring him to open their covers and read their pages. Beau and Tonks weren't helping: every time Tonks would get a correct answer, Beau would attribute that to good luck, and every time Tonks would miss an answer, Beau would go out of his way to tease the Metamorphmagus. Charlie would calmly continue on with their study session. It was all he could do to keep Tonks from cursing Beau into kingdom come.

"OKAY!" Charlie yelped, whacking Beau over the head with The Unabridged Encyclopedia of Potions Particles and their Purposes. "Enough's 'nough, yeah?" He sighed. "I hate this. Hate it."

"Me too, Charlie!" Beau said, his body twitching in excited jerks. "It sucks! And I've got sooooooo much energy! I can't stay still much longer, Charlie! Might go a bit crazy!"

"Might?" Tonks cried, slamming her fists down into The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7. "You already HAVE, you git!"

Beau gave an excited, high-pitched laugh, which cut through Charlie's ears like a Banshee's cry and made him twitch like a pale-furred ferret.

"BEAU BREWER," Tonks began, ready to pounce on him--

"--A Patronus can only be conjured by what, Tonks?" Charlie said hastily, trying to save what little sanity they had left in their study group.

"ME KILLING BEAU!" Tonks shouted, and she pushed her chair backwards, crouched in a fighting stance.

"Merlin!" Beau cried, and he jetted off from the table and out of the common room.

"YOU COME BACK HERE, YOU ANNOYING, SLIMY, TWITCHY BASTARD!" Tonks shouted, and she, too, left Charlie, chasing after the coffee-high Beau.

Had he been anything but a Quidditch-playing, stressed out seventh year, Charlie would have been embarrassed by his two moronic friends who had disrupted the calm and quiet (though oddly high-tensioned) atmosphere of the Gryffindor common room. But he was all of the aforementioned things, and thus, hardly embarrassed, and actually somewhat amused, Charlie lay his head down on the table, closing his blue eyes, wanting to see anything but N.E.W.T. study guides and encyclopedias.

It was effective, too--in fact, he wasn't seeing meaningless words but Snitches--tiny golden Snitches, floating in front of his eyes--no, in front of him. He was floating--floating in outer space? There were tiny, diamond stars and there was Earth and the Moon. It was really pretty--really pretty, but the Snitches began to flutter away. He swam to them and they turned into Quaffles--the Quaffles danced around him before they became the vicious Bludgers. Giving a soundless yelp, Charlie swam away furiously, but not fast enough--the Bludgers danced around him, wider and wider...they shot upwards into the air, ready to slam themselves into Charlie, when--suddenly, it was--

A beautiful, sylph, mystical body danced and arced in front of him and swallowed the spinning, gravity-defying Bludgers with a beautifully dangerous mouth. A blue aura surrounded the creature, sparkling throughout its translucent wings and tail fan. The creature danced itself into a graceful knot, and turned to face Charlie--it opened its mouth pearl white fangs glistening, when it said--"Charlie...Charlie..."

Eh? But that sounded like--

Charlie felt his mind take consciousness again and he squished his eyes shut, pulling a face.

"What kind of face is that, Charlie?"

Charlie let out a low groan and turned to face the source of the voice. He turned to his left, where his little brother Percy stood, looking confused and curious.

"Per--what--what is it?" Charlie groaned out, wiping sleep away from his eyes.

Percy blinked behind his glasses.

"You snore like a Banshee," he said bluntly.

"PERCY!" Charlie roared. "You woke me up from ignorant bliss to tell me that?!"

"Well," Percy said, his haughty air escaping, "you were disrupting the entire Common room, big brother! How am I supposed to study for my Arithmancy final with you snoring as loud as an Augurey?" He chuckled at his own joke, which made Charlie roll his eyes. "Besides, you were only asleep for about fifteen minutes."

There was no use arguing with his third year brother. He and Percy were complete, polar opposites--where Charlie was athletic, Percy was studious; whenever Charlie was mum, Percy was outspoken; and where Charlie was easy-going, Percy was uptight.

But Charlie quite appreciated Percy, because he was always inadvertently hilarious--his ambition came across as hysterical because he was just thirteen years old, and his rigidness about rules and regulations was always the subject of a good tease. And the best part was that Percy, who, in his younger years, would get upset and hurt feelings after endless teasing, now either ignored it, or got huffy, which was even funnier. Yeah, Percy was a character, all right. He couldn't care less that he preferred to study and follow the rules.

"Actually," Percy began, huffily, "Bill has sent us a letter--I have it here, wanted you to see it."

Charlie raised his eyebrows as Percy produced a letter and laid it down next to his Transfiguration textbook. Sure enough, Bill's perfect handwriting stood out on the parchment, and Charlie began to read:

Charlie and Perce--

How are things going in Hogwarts? I hope this gets to you two before the N.E.W.T.s, final exams, and Quidditch match. Think of this as my good luck for you, Charlie--I know you'll do excellently, of course. And Perce, watch over him, make sure he doesn't wet himself over anxiety--trust me, I know, I did the N.E.W.T.s too--it's a real mess, it is--("What does HE know?!" Charlie cried. "He got O's in nearly everything!") -and you, Perce, don't fret too much over the simple exams. Haha! Anyway, they've got me excavating these ancient pyramids in Egypt--you wouldn't believe all of the curses and hexes the ancient Egyptian wizards put on these things. There're Muggles who've grown extra limbs and animals that look like what Charlie's snores would look like if they were real. Hehe, kidding, Charlie! But seriously, I know it's rough this time of year, so you two just relax--summer's almost here! I think I might be able to come down this summer--sometime in the beginning of August, I believe. I've got loads to tell you guys. Charlie, why not join me in Egypt? It's action-packed, for sure--then again, we all know how you fare with Potions and Charms, so perhaps not. Heh, kidding again!

Good luck with Quidditch and all of your tests. See you in the summer!

-Bill

PS: Here's a picture of me and this ancient cursed mummy I found. What do you think?

Charlie reached for the picture, was showed a struggling, though excited Bill waving his wand furiously and producing a rather ornate mummy. But the mummy wasn't the most interesting aspect--no, it was Bill!

"Is that a ponytail?" Charlie asked incredulously, staring at the picture.

"Sure enough," Percy said, indifferent.

"A ponytail?" Charlie repeated.

"Yes, Charlie!"

"Why would he grow a--a ponytail?! That's--that's girly, that is!" Charlie cried.

"Who're you to say anything," Percy replied, indignantly, "when your hair reaches past your ears and below your eyebrows?"

"But--he's nuts," Charlie said, sighing. "Bill--a ponytail."

"Well, I'm not going to lie and say I like it--it's quite silly," Percy replied stuffily. "But since when do you care?"

Charlie frowned. Percy had a point. He can't imagine that Bill's growing a ponytail would've bothered him--had it been any other time before this particularly stressful one. Instead, Charlie furrowed his eyebrows and changed the topic.

"I didn't need to read that!" Charlie grumbled. Bill reminded him of his dislike for Charms and Potions--Charms, which he had to get at least an "E" on in his N.E.W.T.s to qualify--

Unless he does Quidditch, then he doesn't need anything.

ARGGHHH.

"Charlie, you're in a couple of N.E.W.T. level classes--including Charms, correct?" Percy questioned, folding the letter.

"Yeah," Charlie mumbled, dropping his head to the table.

"You're in that for a reason, then, because you hate Charms," Percy said matter-of-factly.

"Way to state the obvious, you moron," Charlie grumbled.

Percy ignored Charlie's statement. "Well, Charlie, clearly, you've got something in mind, if you're succumbing yourself to adhering to something you dislike so much."

Shut it, squirt.

"Eh," Charlie mumbled.

Percy raised an eyebrow, his eyes storming over. "Charlie," he began, turning around, "Mum and Dad'll love you no matter what, you know that."

"Of course I know that!" Charlie said, picking his head up and resting it in his hand.

"And everyone'll like you no matter what, Charlie."

"What?"

"Quit worrying about everyone else and do what you want to do. It's not like people are going to shun you if you do something for yourself!"

Charlie turned his head and looked directly into Percy's spectacled eyes. He held his gaze for a few seconds before saying, "Get out of here, pipsqueak."

Percy twisted his mouth into a wry sort of bend--neither a smile nor a frown, but some kind of confident, jagged line--inwardly knowing that he had gotten his observations correct, and his job done.

Charlie's gaze stayed on Percy as he watched him cross the common room and sit down with some fellow third years. He hated it when the kid was right.

Which, unfortunately, was nearly all the time.

Then Charlie glanced over at the portrait hole and saw his twin brothers, first years Fred and George, bouncing into the room, accompanied by Beau and Tonks, and quickly buried himself in his Charms book, trying to buy some time until he got rounded on again.

Hours later, after a break to practice Quidditch, Charlie and Beau tossed up the books and decided to take a stroll around the grounds.

"So what exactly did you and Tonks do when you left the common room?" Charlie asked. He had his hands in his pockets and let the late spring breeze ruffle his hair.

Beau chortled. "Nothing. Chased me around the corridors till Snape caught us and took ten points off each for 'disrupting the quiet atmosphere of the Hogwarts grounds'. Then we ran into Fred and George and they started on about the Quidditch match, and then we made our way back up to the common room." Beau looked over at Charlie. "You know, they want to try out for the team next year."

Charlie raised his eyebrows, though he couldn't say he was all that surprised.

"They're pretty good," Charlie said. He smiled. "I taught 'em well."

Beau laughed. "There's the old Chuckster--back in action!" Beau slapped him on the back and sighed. "You've been pretty queer as of late, man."

"Sorry," Charlie said.

Beau shrugged. "Hey, I know it. I'm in the same predicament."

Sort of, Charlie thought.

"Yeah," Charlie said.

"But we'll kick 'em in the ass," Beau cried, "and then we'll own those N.E.W.T.s, too! I've got to get a handful of 'em for my Ministry job, though." Beau stretched his arms around the back of his head. "You pick your Quidditch team yet?"

They aren't going to shun you for doing something for yourself, Percy's voice rang in Charlie's head.

But Charlie couldn't bring himself to lay his doubts out for Beau. Not yet, not when he wasn't sure himself.

Though he knew what he was leading to.

"Not yet," Charlie said thickly. "Lots of brochures."

"Then why're you in so many N.E.W.T. classes?" Beau said. His voice rang with a finality tone that Charlie interpreted as Beau finally getting around to something he'd been wondering about for awhile.

Charlie shook his head. "I...dunno." He sighed. "Can't answer anything, mate."

"The match's in two days," Beau said quietly, changing the subject. Beau might've been curious, but he wasn't one to pressure anyone. "Charlie--you know, I'm kind of...nervous."

"Really?" Charlie mused. "I--don't think I'm nervous. More just...like, stressed, you know? And the match is just building on to the stress."

That was the truth. Charlie wasn't so much nervous about the Championship as he was just completely stressed out over the end of his seventh year.

Beau nodded. "I hear you. I just want to kick those Slytherins in the arse so bad--our last chance to laugh in Bulstrode's face--in Slytherin's face, too." Beau wore a malicious smile as they continued to walk, until he pointed out Selda's cage, just a couple of yards in front of them.

"Ah, it's the dragon," Beau commented. He chuckled. "Your girlfriend, Charlie!"

Charlie hit him jokingly on the arm and chuckled. "At least she likes me. Tonks, on the other hand, can't stand you."

Beau jumped. "Excuse me, mate! I happen to know that my charm and mannerisms have the ladies drooling--and if I wanted Tonks, I would certainly have no trouble snagging her!"

"Sure," Charlie said, amused. Beau hit him on the arm, grinning.

"You think that winning that Cup'll impress her?" he said suddenly.

Charlie was taken aback by that. "What?! I thought you were kidding!"

"I thought you were kidding!" Beau cried.

Charlie laughed and walked forward to Selda's cage. Almost excitedly, Selda hopped up and ran over to where Charlie stood. Selda was growing rapidly; her blue-tinged body looked beautiful in the starlight, and she was now the size of a large car.

"Whoa, Charlie," Beau muttered, walking forward. "That's impressive."

"What do you mean?" Charlie asked.

"Don't you remember from the first lesson?" Beau said, keeping a distance from Charlie and Selda, who was now resting at the very edge of her corral. "Dragons don't take kindly to anything, mate--even other dragons. And you've got this one, like--right on top of you! Even Kettleburn can't get this close to her."

Charlie felt a grin growing on his lips. "You--you think?"

"It's right in front of my eyes," Beau replied.

Charlie felt unnaturally happy at Beau's observation. And it was true, too--Kettleburn always kept a respectable distance away from the reptile, and yet, Selda had taken to Charlie almost immediately. She relaxed around him, and he around her. Selda was like--almost like a pet, really; Charlie and Bill had had a dog in their youth (sadly, the Lawn Gnomes had overrun the poor Retriever and chased it away from the Burrow), and it was like Selda was that dog.

Kind of. That sounded really weird in Charlie's head, that comparison.

Charlie knocked his knuckles against the magical barrier, which made the familiar ripple against his touch.

"We should go back," Charlie said. "Before Snape finds us and accuses us of disturbing the quiet of Selda's corral."

Nodding in agreement, Beau waited until Charlie had walked back to his position and they walked off together back into the castle.

"You think Bulstrode's a mess over this match?" Charlie wondered aloud, as the two approached the castle.

Beau chuckled. "If he's not, he should be." He shook his head. "This's the first time he's put together a pretty strategic side--usually they go for size or some other ridiculous, pointless trait that doesn't affect the game much at all...but now we've got forces to be reckoned with."

"True..." Charlie bit his lip. "The Chasers are fierce as hell."

"Three girls on broomsticks?" Beau laughed heartily. "Shame they don green and silver, else they might make a place in my books."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Don't be a gentleman in the match, Beau. Knock 'em off their brooms, if you have to. Not that you're a gentleman, ever, but..."

"Ouch, my mate," Beau replied smoothly. "Naw, no worries. They're pretty good, though--Meredith Baddock, Affrodile Andrews, Lyrienne Luquette...they're friends off the pitch, makes 'em more in sync." Beau laughed again, though. "Nothing to worry about. Me 'n Guy and Sabine kick ass, and you know it. We know it, too--we've been playing together for years."

"Their Beaters are huge..." Charlie mused. "They don't have any kind of strategy, though--they aim wherever they see the Quaffle, but they hit it so damn hard..." Charlie chuckled darkly. "Baird Bulstrode, captain and Beater...slimy, stupid git."

Beau's eyes darkened. "Vilhelm Hancock's no better. Guy's got the I.Q. of a Lawn Gnome."

"And he's the size of Selda," Charlie added grimly. "That's the thing to worry 'bout Slytherin's Keeper, too--Freyne Jamison, he's the size of a whaleboat, and that's intimidating. Just keep putting it past him--he's slow, you know."

"I know," Beau said lightly. "Believe me. I put it past him er'time." He laughed.

Charlie shook his head, smiling.

"Terence Higgs'll mark you, Charlie," Beau added. "He's a fifth year, new to the team--"

"But he's pretty good," Charlie said darkly. "He can fly really well."

"--yeah, but when it's up against you for this match, I bet he will," Beau answered.

Charlie considered this and pulled a face.

"Am I really that good?"

"You kidding me?" Beau replied, incredulous. "Charlie, my man, you're a right genius--it's shame you just don't really care."

Charlie made another face, one contorted in surprise and shock. "Eh?"

Beau shook his head. "Nothing, man. It's late, we need as much rest as we possibly can--c'mon, we've got lots to do."

"Match in two days, N.E.W.T.s in four," Charlie said, sighing deeply. "It'll be a miracle if we finish this without any breakdowns."

Beau cast him a sidelong glance, knowing something was up, before answering, "Yeah, man, I hear you. Loud and clear."

They arrived right then at the Fat Lady and said the password. Climbing into the common room, they saw that the room was littered with students of all years, but Charlie was surprised to see his entire Quidditch team hustled around the fire.

"What's up with them?" Charlie mused, and he and Beau walked over to their gathering.

"Charlie!" McCallum Aiken said warmly, and he stood up to receive his captain.

Charlie smiled. "McCallum--guys--hey," he answered. "Is something up?"

"You mean aside from dodging hexes and jinxes all day?" Jordan Spinnet snapped, tugging on her blonde ponytail. She wore a look of extreme disgust. "Nothing."

"Every year that happens," Beau said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "They're so damn jealous, they resort to the lowest thing imaginable."

"Tried to give me two extra heads today," Sabine Sinatra put in, "Terence Higgs did." She smiled her usual sultry half-smile. "But Oliver here made sure that didn't happen." She patted him on the back, and Oliver Wood blushed profoundly.

"They're a bunch of gits," Oliver answered.

"True," Charlie said.

"Baird Bulstrode nearly landed me in the hospital wing," McCallum said. "Guy was passing by, though, and Bulstrode dropped it." He shook his head. "I think that's what we've gotta do."

Guy looked around darkly, clearing disgruntled by Slytherin's dirty tactics.

"What do you mean?" Oliver asked.

"Well--I think I see, McCallum," Charlie said. "Beau and I are usually together all day, or we're with someone else, 'cause the seventh year classes are pretty selective. But we should look out tomorrow, 'cause the Slytherins would love if any of our star players couldn't make the pitch."

"Always walk around with anyone," Jordan said brashly. "Doesn't even have to be a Quidditch player--though that's preferable. But always make sure you're with someone."

"Tomorrow's the last day of classes," Beau said. "Make sure you get out unscathed, and make sure you rest up! We've got a huge day Saturday."

"The biggest," Charlie answered. "Beau said it all. Let's go up, everyone--I want everyone to get at least ten hours! You hear me?"

They nodded, and began to pick up, heading off to each of their dorms. Oliver stayed behind for a second, his eyes shining with the deep admiration they always got from looking at Charlie. Truth be told, it flattered Charlie--knowing that he was admired so much was a nice feeling, even if it did get to be a bit exhausting after awhile.

"Say, Charlie!" Oliver said, his voice tingling.

"Yes?" Charlie replied.

"Do--d'you need anyone else to cover for you tomorrow during class? I see you on the way to my Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Charlie--I could cover you on the way to your Potions class and loop around after I drop you off at the dungeons and then you know that no Slytherin slimball'd attack you then, if there's me and Beau and any of your other friends--like that Nymphadora Tonks and you know that Guy might be around too--"

"Oliver," Beau interrupted, watching the excited, panting boy, "breathe."

Oliver nodded, reminiscent of a puppy. His brown eyes were wide.

Charlie laughed. "Look, Oliver...I really appreciate it! But I don't want you to mess up your classes--besides being late, you'd be by yourself after you--uh, loop back around. And that would suck. I think if Beau and Tonks're with me, I'll be alright. Just make sure you've got someone with you."

Oliver nodded, and if he was disappointed, he didn't show it; on the contrary, he looked just as excited and anxious as he was five minutes ago.

"Yeah! You know what? I'll make sure to walk around with your little brother, Charlie! Percy knows every spell in the book--even in the seventh year books, you know! He'd probably be a good candidate. And I pass up Jordan sometimes and Sabine a lot!"

"Sabine would love to walk with you, Oliver," Beau teased, but Guy nudged him quietly in the back, though his lips twisted upward.

Charlie raised his eyebrows. "Thanks, Oliver. But c'mon, now, we've got to rest up--sleep as late as you can, eat good, rest and relax."

Oliver nodded vigorously and with "goodnight, guys!" he bounded up the stairs.

Beau shook his head. "I reckon he's mad in love with you, Charlie."

"Yeah, me and Sabine both," Charlie said, laughing. "Leave the kid alone."

"Yeah, he's just star struck," Beau replied. Guy was chuckling, though still remaining quite quiet.

"He's a good kid," Charlie said. "Lots of talent."

"Oh, I know it," Beau replied, yawning. "I like him. He's just got this weird crush on Sabine, and this weird admiration for you."

"Can you blame him?" Guy put forth, earning himself a high-five from Charlie, an "ohhhhhh!" from Beau, and laughter from them both.

"I guess Tonks already turned in," Beau said finally, looking around the room. People were filing out; the three boys, several first years, and a fifth year couple were the only ones left.

"You know, we should go up, too," Beau said. "It must be getting really late."

They almost began to climb the staircase to the guys' dorms when Charlie turned to Guy. Guy's face was his usual passive, emotionless stare; not unfriendly, but not welcoming, either. Chiseled, tanned, calm--that was Guy's profile, all right.

"You nervous at all, Guy?" he asked.

"...of course," Guy answered.

"About winning?" Beau replied. "Yeah, I am too."

Guy gave a rare smile. "No, about not being able beat in the Slytherins' faces as much as I possibly can."