The Lion and the Unicorn

Chapter Four: Extracurricular Activities

Once he'd escaped his mother, giving her quite a few pathetic excuses as to why he hadn't yet met his match, Charlie headed to his room to unpack his things. He'd gotten back to the Burrow fairly late the night before, a result of much chatter with the rest of the Order. Sirius and Remus were entertainment at its best; they told incredible stories of shenanigans and practical jokes that Fred and George had never even thought of. (When Remus could convince Sirius to quit moping, anyway.)

Absently, Charlie fingered the gold ring on his finger. It figured that Molly would have asked him what it meant. He grinned, recalling the outrageous story he'd told her. It was doubtful that she'd ever see dental floss or light bulbs the same way again.

Tossing a few things back into his rucksack, Charlie picked it off of the floor and headed back down to the kitchen to use the fireplace. He paused by the door at the top of the stairs- Ginny's- hearing noises.

Curious for reasons he could not fathom (and the protective brother one that he could), Charlie knocked gently on the door. "Ginny? Are you awake?"

There was no answer.

"Ginny?" Charlie called again, slightly worried now. "I'm coming in." He pushed open the door, not quite fully anticipating the pigsty that was his sister's room. It looked like a tornado had gone through it, decided it had taken a wrong turn, and gone back through it again. "Ouch," he said, tripping over a (moving) Care of Magical Creatures textbook. "Honestly, Gin, don't you ever clean in here?"

His sister didn't answer him. She was lying on her stomach, face buried in her pillow, and her body was shaking with little sobs. "He's back- he's gone, and it's my fault-"

Charlie paused. Is she dreaming? But apparently she wasn't, because she sat up just then and regarded him with red eyes. "Charlie?" She sprang out of bed and wrapped her arms around him, squealing. "You came to visit! You've just saved my summer. Nobody around here is any fun anymore- Fred and George are always working on Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes or else they're out with Katie and Angelina, and Ron spends all his time writing to Harry and Hermione- he fancies her, you know- and Percy is such a fanatic about work that it's-"

Charlie smiled to himself and let his brain start to filter her words. Apparently, she hadn't changed too much since he'd seen her last. (This was not entirely true, though, he noticed ruefully; his little sister was indeed growing up.) "Hold it," he said, shaking his head. "What's up with you? Since when do you have such awful nightmares?"

"Oh," Ginny said, suddenly finding that her toes were very interesting. "It's nothing. Just- since the Triwizard Tournament, you know…" she trailed off.

Apparently she didn't realize she'd been talking in her sleep. Charlie wondered about that, but decided that if Ginny didn't know herself, it couldn't hurt her too much. "Oh," he said, ruffling her hair in an older brother-like way. "Well, try not to worry too much before we know what's going on, okay?" He cringed inwardly. My, that was hypocritical.

Ginny gave him an odd look, as if she were reading his thoughts, but nodded slowly. "I'll try if you will."

"Then it's a deal," Charlie replied, and they shook on it.

Walking back to the kitchen, Ginny seemed even more her old self, which was reassuring. "So where are we going?" she asked, not managing to quell the hopeful tone of her voice.

"We?" Charlie repeated, shaking his head. "Sorry, Ginny. I've got important-" He stopped at the crestfallen look on her face. "Come on, don't do this. I'll be back before dinner and I can catch up on everything you haven't told me already."

"You promise?"

"I promise. See you later, Gin." With a toss of Floo powder and a shout, he was gone.

Charlie wound up in Hogsmeade station, not too far from Hogwarts, deciding to walk from there rather than take a Portkey. It was a rather hot day, but it wasn't a sunny type of hot and the walking was not terribly difficult, seeing as he was used to running after dragons day-in and day-out. He had just barely reached the castle when the sky grew overcast and thunder boomed in the distance. Seems we're in for a bit of rain.

Professor Dumbledore, Arabella, Mundungus, Sirius and Remus were all waiting in the Great Hall. On such hot days, a meeting in the Headmaster's office would be far too hot and crowded for all of them, not to mention noisy because of the storm. "Anya didn't come back yesterday?" he asked curiously, noting her conspicuous absence. "That's-"

He didn't have time to say more, though, because Anya entered the room just then, pack on her shoulders and a book in her hands. Her nose was stuck in the book, and she just barely looked up as she said, "Sorry I'm late. It's one thing getting yourself ready to go somewhere; try it with a nine-month-old…" Without further ado, she turned her back to Charlie.

They knew each other well enough that it didn't take words to communicate what she wanted him to do, and so Charlie lifted Leon gently out of the baby-carrier. Leon whined a bit and reached out for Anya, who accepted him with a soft smile and basic motherly instinct.

Sirius looked slightly incredulous. "This is the family business you were attending to?"

"Since seven o'clock this morning," Anya said seriously. "Apparently Leon has trouble sleeping past eight." She sighed. "Mind you, if I had nightmares like he must, I wouldn't sleep long, either."

"Well, now that you're here, we can get started," Dumbledore said. "Everyone, please be seated…" They were, and so began a third meeting, this one to establish what they would be doing to aid the cause.

"Obviously," he said, "I cannot send you on wild Grindylow chases at the merest hint of Dark activity, and I do not expect you to go on them. I understand that you have your own jobs, your own lives, to take care of.

"One thing we do insist upon is the cell system. This group is just one part of a much larger whole. To avoid discovery- by the Ministry, by the Death Eaters, or indeed anyone- you will only know the people in your own group. I must ask you not to try to discover the other groups, for your own safety and theirs. Does anyone have a problem with or an objection to that?"

They shook their heads.

"Wonderful," Dumbledore said. "Now- next order of business is finding a base of operations for your particular group. We can't have the meetings here during the school year- admittance to Hogwarts is going to be severely restricted by professional Aurors to ensure student safety. We will have to find a new headquarters before school starts, so please keep your eyes open."

The group absorbed this, too, and so Dumbledore continued. "And while we're talking about school," he said, turning to Charlie, "I'm going to be short one Care of Magical Creatures teacher come September. I would be honored if you would fill in."

Charlie blanched. A teacher? Me? Yet it made an odd kind of sense. He was good with animals and good with people, he was already working for the Headmaster anyway, and it would give him a position in Scotland where he could visit four of his siblings (and the two or three he considered honorary Weasleys). He didn't see a downside, and so answered, "The honor is mine, Professor."

"Splendid!" Dumbledore exclaimed, not half as somber as he'd been mere moments before. "Although, as a member of my staff, I must insist that you stop calling me 'professor.' It makes me feel so old and decrepit."

Charlie squirmed a bit. No doubt the Headmaster knew that almost everyone thought that he was old and decrepit. "Er… I'll try."
"So," Dumbledore went on, ignoring Leon's constant string of baby-babble. "Moving right along, I think I'll turn over the speaker's position to the lovely Mrs. Figg. Arabella, if you would kindly tell us what you've learned so far about the Drifters…"

Mrs. Figg- an old woman but a graceful one, thin but not frail, and with a sheet of perfect white hair- stood and began pacing. "I've known something was going on for about a week now," she began slowly, an intense look of concentration on her face. "Muggles can feel the Drifters when they're coming, although we can't, and they act strangely. I didn't know what it meant, but I did know that I'd have to be alert." She sighed. "Unfortunately, now that we do know what's going on, we can't find any more information on them in the library. I've written the Ministry for their records, but-"

There was an especially loud crash of thunder, and Leon whimpered in Anya's arms. "Shush!" she whispered. "It's only a little rain."

It wasn't, however, a little bit of rain, and neither was it only a storm. There was a flash of lightening, and, so suddenly that it nearly gave poor Mundungus a heart attack, Bill Weasley appeared in the Great Hall and promptly fell flat on his back, exhausted.

Mundungus was on his feet in a split second, brandishing his wand, and by the time he'd realized that Bill was no threat Arabella had coaxed him into sitting down again and drinking his tea.

After Anya had performed a Drying spell on the rain-soaked Bill, he managed to sit up, breathing hard. "Headmaster," he said between gasps, "is there a little something you forgot to tell me about all-powerful wraiths that won't die?"

Mundungus and Dumbledore exchanged glances. "Sit down," the Headmaster said, removing his spectacles and massaging the bridge of his nose, somber once more. Bill moved to a chair. "What did you say about all-powerful wraiths?"

"They're not wraiths, per se," he answered slowly. "More like they're- I don't know- dim. I didn't see him until he was right in front of me-"

"Hold up, brother," Charlie said, trying to categorize the flow of information he was receiving. "How about starting at the beginning for those of us who are, shall we say, new to the operation?"

Bill gave his brother a look that clearly asked, 'What are you doing here?' but did not repeat the question aloud. Instead, he said, "Well, I was working on an ancient underground vault at Wiltshire for the goblins-"

Charlie couldn't even let him get through the first sentence. "Since when do you work in Great Britain?"

"I could ask you the same thing!" Bill exclaimed in semi-annoyance.

He's got a point. "Right," Charlie said. "Okay, continue. I won't interrupt anymore."

"I doubt that," Bill said, giving a weak grin. "Anyway, like I was saying, I was trying to break the curses on an ancient underground vault near Stonehenge. We were underground, so it was cold and dark, but all of a sudden it got a hell of a lot colder. Next thing I know, I'm lying flat on my back and there's something sitting on my chest. It grabbed me under my chin and I could hear it breathe in, and it sort of felt like what a Dementor might do to a person… only it wasn't my soul that was leaving my body, it was my magic."

Sirius and Anya had gone very, very white, and even Leon was silent.

Bill continued, somewhat oblivious. "I grabbed my wand and cast an industrial strength Stunning spell, but nothing happened. I could feel that the magic left my wand, but it sort of… bounced off. Or was absorbed, or something. By this time, I could feel my magic growing weaker, and I knew I couldn't cast another spell." He drew a deep breath, "So I reached into my boot, grabbed my knife and- well…" Bill looked down at his hand, still clenched around something. He flicked open the blade and grimaced. It was covered in something that looked like a cross between blood and ichor. "I must've been running on adrenaline, because I picked up my wand and turned it into a Portkey right after- and here I am," Bill finished, looking up. "Now, would someone please tell me what's going on?"

"I'm afraid we can't do that, Bill," Dumbledore said, shaking his head and putting his glasses back on his nose. "We can only tell you what we know. Which, by the sounds of things, isn't even as much as you do."

"Oh, spectacular," Bill grumbled sarcastically. "Fill me in."

And so, having no other choice, they did.

About three-quarters of the way through the explanation, Arabella was interrupted by the arrival of a huge, official-looking owl with a heavy envelope clasped in his talons. He hooted once, dropped the package on the table, and waited patiently for her to sign the form and return it to him. When she had done so, he ruffled his feathers and flew off again.

"Ministry owls," Remus muttered under his breath, half-smiling and half-scowling as it disappeared from sight. "What does it say?"

Arabella didn't answer right away, flipping instead through the thin folder she'd been sent. "Not much that we don't know. Origin unknown… Dark answer to the Shee…" She stopped at one particular sheet, frowning slightly. "Almost nothing we don't already know. But here, take a look for yourself." She passed the folder to Dumbledore, who began to flip through it silently.

Deciding that rushing Dumbledore with the folder was the last thing he wanted to do, Charlie turned to Bill. "So why are you here?" he asked.

Bill shrugged, looking somewhat uncomfortable. "I was at the Triwizard Tournament," he said slowly. "And I remember more than you do from the first war. I don't want things to get that bad again. I can't let them."

"So you requested a transfer?"

Bill nodded. "There wasn't much else I could do besides quit cold turkey, and I wasn't ready to do that. I asked Dumbledore what I could do before I left that night." His gaze wandered across the rest of the room's occupants. "I'm guessing this is your cell?"

"Yeah," Charlie said, straightening up a bit. "Is it safe to assume that Dumbledore already told you that Sirius Black is innocent?"

His brother nodded again. "He told us- our cell- the first time we met. That's him, then? With the kid?"

Startled, Charlie's eyes fell on Sirius, who did indeed have Leon by his chubby little fists. The baby, who was apparently almost ready to walk already at such a young age, was standing on the floor (or, more accurately, on Sirius' feet), albeit unsteadily, supported by Sirius' steady grip. He was every bit as happy and vocal as he had been since the beginning of the meeting, which Charlie figured was good. He had originally thought that Leon had a severe case of separation anxiety- his wail could have woken the dead once he was separated from Anya or someone else he was used to- but there had been no horror stories yet from his neighbors and he seemed quite content with Sirius.

"Yeah, that's him," Charlie said, smiling in spite of himself. Who would have thought, a year ago, that a convicted mass murderer would be so good with children?

"Funny," Bill said, "I always imagined he'd be-"

"More evil?"

"Well, I was going to say 'taller,' but yes, more evil fits in the blank."

Charlie grinned, about to reply, when Dumbledore cleared his throat. "It would appear, ladies and gentlemen, that we have a good deal more information than we planned for. Let us hope it's source is somewhat reliable."

What chatter there had been died out quickly.

"First of all," he stated, "we have good news and bad news. The good news is that it has been confirmed that Drifters rarely, if ever, strike in the same place within a year-long period. This is useful information, especially when we're considering the location of a new base of operations for this cell. Bill, I'm afraid I must ask you to pretend you didn't hear that."

"Yes, sir," Bill agreed readily.

"The bad news," Dumbledore said, now looking incredibly tired, "is just this: not only do they have the power to absorb magic, Drifters cannot be cursed. One cannot use magic against them in this world in any way."

Silence fell once again, and reigned supreme until Sirius asked what they had all been thinking.

"What do we do now?"