Chapter Text
Charlotte felt lost.
Her new bedroom, as Euphemia had announced, had all the essentials. A bed, a dresser, a mirror.
But it felt empty.
The room didn’t feel like it belonged to her.
Not like Hogwarts did when she first stepped into it.
To make it worse, she had literally zero personal items to add a touch of herself to the room.
After Sirius and James left to do whatever they were up to now, Harry and Charlotte had to explain that they left the future quite suddenly and without much warning.
It surely made their grandparents more suspicious of them, but at that point, Charlotte had been too exhausted – mentally and physically – to actually care about it.
A sudden realisation shot to mind. Amidst the days' chaos, she had completely forgotten about her birthday. She was seventeen now. An adult.
Pain erupted in her heart. She willed the tears away. She could not cry now. She wouldn’t allow it.
Tears meant accepting her fate. Accepting that she would never go back because time doesn’t wait for anyone.
Charlotte disregarded the old clothes Euphemia had given her for the night and instead left for Harry’s room.
Her feet padded softly along the hallway, careful not to make any unnecessary loud noises. She didn’t want to cause any more ruckus than Harry and her already did.
When she slipped into her brother’s room, she found him on his bed. His eyes opened softly, and without another word, he lifted his blanket, making space for her.
The tears that Charlotte had forced away for the past hours came back full force.
“Happy Birthday, Harry.” She whispered into the dark.
“Happy Birthday, Char.”
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Charlotte wrung her hands nervously.
After a calm morning and a delicious breakfast from their grandmother, Harry and she had been told to go up to Fleamont’s study.
At that moment, she was almost a hundred per cent sure that her grandparents had turned their back on them.
Maybe they would tell them to leave them alone, to not pull them into this mess. Maybe they would make them prisoners to protect the world from the destruction they would eventually bring.
But what happened instead was Dumbledore.
The twins had sat in the chairs opposite the large desk when the door opened. Both their heads snapped around – Charlotte’s more out of fear than slight nervousness. Their Grandparents must have contacted him.
But as her eyes set on her late mentor, she felt herself calm down a bit.
Dumbledore would know what to do.
He was the one to gift her the object. He would have a solution for this problem.
But her hope got crushed by the sudden realisation that they wouldn’t be in this mess hadn’t Dumbledore given her that object.
Anger bubbled up in her chest, but she forced a smile on her face. She couldn’t risk angering him. He was their only hope in getting home.
His long robe swished against the edge of the table as he rounded it to sit down on the comically large chair behind it.
Charlotte suddenly felt very small. She got reminded of the time when she was in first grade and got sent to his office for hexing Malfoy.
Nevertheless, Dumbledore meant safety. He wouldn’t be so cruel as to harm them in any way.
Charlotte watched his hand disappear into his robes and pull out a handful of lemon drops. She politely shook her head with a forced smile when he offered them to her. Harry, on the other hand, gladly took one, popping it into his mouth.
Dumbledore’s eyes glistened with something Charlotte couldn’t quite place.
She didn’t feel quite as sentimental seeing Dumbledore as she did with Sirius, though it was no surprise, as Dumbledore favoured Harry over her more than enough.
For quite a while, Charlotte had suspected that Harry thought of him more like a grandfather figure than a mentor. It was unhealthy, she concluded a long time ago.
“Shall we discuss why we’re here?” Dumbledore offered at last. His glasses had slipped down his nose, so he pushed them back up.
Harry immediately straightened up. “We don’t know what happened, Professor. One moment, we were there and the next we were here.”
Dumbledore stayed silent for a moment, and Charlotte contemplated her words. She knew Dumbledore would be the one to help them, but the nagging thought of time travel risks still hid at the back of her head.
Who guaranteed that Dumbledore wouldn’t betray them for the safety of this timeline?
Knowing of their existence was dangerous enough, but actively helping them could have unimaginably grave consequences.
“Maybe start at the beginning. Tell me exactly what happened.” The old man offered, and Charlotte felt herself breathe a little better. They were safe, for now. Dumbledore would have done something by now. He wouldn’t indulge them, that she was sure of.
Before Harry could sputter some nonsense again, Charlotte began talking.
“Harry and I were... looking at an object.” She paused for a second, contemplating telling the truth about the golden lollipop. But what other choice did she truly have?
“You gave it to me, actually. We weren’t sure what purpose it had. But then Harry touched it, and it made us glow. Next thing we knew, we were here, Professor.”
She carefully watched his face for any kind of deception, yet his face betrayed nothing. His eyes still sparkled, and his lips were pulled into this all-knowing smile.
“I must say, I don’t know why I would do such a thing. Time Travel comes with many dangers.” He paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing on her. “Was there anything I said when I gave you this object?”
Charlotte swallowed hard. It would be unwise to tell someone about their own death. Even someone like Dumbledore could go mad and thus change history even further.
Her eyes found Harry, whose hands were tightly curled into fists.
He was thinking about Dumbledore’s death, she was sure.
While Charlotte hadn’t been there – too occupied with fighting the Death Eaters – Harry had to watch his mentor get killed by one of their professors.
Her head turned back to Dumbledore, who surely had witnessed their little spurt of hesitation.
“No, you didn’t say anything, Professor.”
Dumbledore nodded and folded his hands together. “Very well. Do you have that object still with you?”
His question made her blood freeze.
She knew she hadn’t. Why didn’t she think of this sooner?
Did it even travel in time with them? Or was it still in the future? If it were, could Hermione and Ron be in another time, too, right now? Charlotte knew Ron would immediately grab the golden object and inspect it. Chances were high he would trigger it too.
But if it wasn’t back in the future, then that means it lies at the Burrow. And small Bill would probably chew at it right now.
“I take this as a no.” Dumbledore sighed.
Charlotte felt hot shame surge through her body. She should have been more careful. More alert to the situation. Instead, she moved carelessly. And now she was stuck in this mess.
“Maybe it’s still at the Burrow.” Harry offered abashedly.
“You mean Arthur and Molly Weasley’s home?” Dumbledore questioned. He didn’t seem particularly sad about the situation.
Charlotte suspected it felt almost like a thrill to the old man. The way his eyes sparkled and the way he spoke could only mean that he knew something they didn’t.
She was sure he knew what object they were talking about.
She saw Harry nod from the corner of her eye.
“Then I think it is time for me to pay the little family a visit.” He stood up, the chair squeaking as it dragged over the floor.
“And I think you two are needed with your grandmother for now. I heard you are in need of a shopping trip.”
He walked past them without another word. Charlotte saw Harry’s eyes – wide as saucers – follow the old man through the room. And while he gaped at Dumbledore with admiration, Charlotte furrowed her brows.
It seemed like she was right with her suspicion. Dumbledore knew of the object, or else he would not leave without them to search for it.
“But Professor, how will you know what to search for?”
She needed to ask. Needed to know how he would react. It would determine how much trust she could put into the old man.
“I don’t believe many golden objects are lying around at the Weasley’s home.” He put on a practised smile. “I shall speak to you when you arrive at Hogwarts.”
And then he left.
Leaving behind racing thoughts.
Charlotte knew that she never mentioned the object being golden. And neither had Harry.
Whatever game Dumbledore was playing, she now knew about it, and she would do anything to not be a pawn in his games again.
“Hogwarts?” Harry questioned long after Dumbledore had left the room.
Charlotte wasn’t surprised that this was the only thought her brother had in mind. Harry had never been one to connect dots quickly. It always took him a while. That’s what they had Hermione for, Ron always said. Only after the third time Charlotte had punched him did he learn not to value Hermione by only her wits.
“Seems like we need to do some back-to-school shopping.” Charlotte joked and stood up. Her bones protested after sitting for so long, but she forced her body to move anyway. She knew she couldn’t hide away in this study forever.
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Diagon Alley was bustling with life as Charlotte, Harry, and Euphemia apparated into one of the safety spots designed for apparition.
Charlotte’s eyes widened at the sheer number of people. She had forgotten how lively this place had been.
The last time she had been there was during the summer before sixth year, and then the streets had been almost empty. Stores were closed, and everything had this dark sheen over it.
But now colour met them at every corner.
Wizards and witches at every corner made the streets feel alive again.
“Okay, we will need to buy you some clothes and school uniforms.” Euphemia called over the noises of the streets. Charlotte was barely able to understand her and only followed her around.
Her eyes jumped from shop to shop. Some were familiar, some were new – or old.
Though she couldn’t help herself when her eyes got stuck on the corner shop that would later be Fred and George’s shop.
Now, looking at it felt wrong. Gone were the red paint and the giant head at the front. Instead, the windows displayed various cleaning supplies, from self-moving brooms to ‘promising’ stain removers.
Ironic, Molly would have loved that shop when searching for new ways to clean up the twins' messes.
Hours later, after Euphemia had forced them into possibly every shop in Diagon Alley, they returned home at last.
Charlotte’s hands held tightly onto many shopping bags filled with everyday clothes, school uniforms, books and other necessities. She felt bad at first for spending so much money, but then she remembered all the gold in their vault, and her guilt flew out the shop’s window.
The air in the Manor held a fresh crisp that was a welcome sensation on her skin. While seeing Diagon Alley brought out a sense of familiarity, it was boiling hot. The summer air and dozens of people in one spot did not match well.
Euphemia’s heels clicked against the polished grounds – Charlotte had found out that her family indeed had house elves running around – while she made her way into the house.
Even after only staying a night and half a morning, the house did grow more familiar to Charlotte. The coldness she first experienced when they got there melted into a comfortable knowledge that she was finally home.
Another thing she noticed was that the house was never truly quiet.
Whether it was elves quietly walking around the halls or James and Sirius getting up to no good.
Just like now. She vaguely heard them yelling from somewhere.
“Should I take your bag upstairs?” Charlotte offered Harry.
She knew he was itching to find their father and uncle. She saw it in the way his head minutely turned around to find the direction their voices came from, the way his fingers wrung with the bag handles, and in the way his eyes eventually narrowed on the hallway.
His eyes flickered to hers, the green in them shining with doubt. Charlotte forced a small smile and tilted her head towards the hallway. She suspected James and Sirius outside, probably playing Quidditch.
Harry’s gaze stayed fixated on her for another few seconds, obviously contemplating his decision.
In the end, he nodded and handed her the bags.
Charlotte looked after him.
She felt sorry for him. This was not permanent for them and would only hurt them further the more they indulged in this fantasy of having a real family. She knew better than to get close to any of them. Not that it was really hard. She barely knew them. Only from stories. The only person she felt a real desire to talk to was Sirius, but as she noted, it would only do more harm than good.
Yet, her traitorous heart clenched in her chest as she climbed the stairs.
It longed to see Sirius and even her father. Though he wasn’t her father yet. Only a foolish schoolboy.
He didn’t even know of her existence as her daughter. And he shall never.
Twenty minutes later, her new clothes hang in her dresser, and the few new books lay on her table.
The room still looked empty, but now at least she hadn’t had to worry about her lack of clothing.
James and Sirius had given both of them wary looks when seeing their clothes, so she knew better than to wear them in public.
Right now, she had old, altered clothes from Euphemia on, and as much as she liked her grandmother, she had no desire to wear any more of her clothes. At least Harry was able to wear James’ clothes.
That was exactly why she soon changed into one of her new outfits.
The new blouse she had on reminded her heavily of one of those seventies Halloween outfits she had seen other children wear during her childhood at the Dursley’s. Even though she wasn’t allowed to actually dress up – as it would cost them even more money – she had settled on watching the neighbourhood children collect their sweets.
And while she would have preferred jeans, the wizarding world was still decades behind, and she was now forced to wear a long, modest skirt.
She mentally noted to visit Muggle London soon to buy some trousers.
The yelling in the backyard had not quietened down, quite the opposite, actually.
Against her better judgment, Charlotte crept downstairs like a little child who knew they had done something wrong.
She half expected her grandparents to jump from around a corner and scold her for even thinking about going outside. She knew, of course, that it was her own consciousness that was coming up with such things, as she was sure her grandparents would be thrilled that she was making an effort with Sirius and James.
She regretted her foolish decision the moment she stepped outside.
Her mind barely registered the size of the backyard, let alone the fact that Quidditch hoops stood on it, because her eyes got stuck on two particular figures.
Remus and Wormtail.
The latter made acid well up in her throat.
And she knew that he had yet to commit treason, but the mere sight of him, sitting high on a broom, with a smile on his face while joking with her father and uncle, was enough to make her want to commit murder.
She had half a mind to pull out her wand and hex him into the next century – though she would really pity whoever would meet him – if not for Harry descending at a rapid pace.
She barely paid him any mind. Her eyes were still glaring holes into the round, blonde boy with the large front teeth.
If not for Harry, whose hand gripped her wrist, she would have personally shot that little rat down his broom with the most cursed hex she knew.
“Don’t do it.” Harry whispered his plea. His big green eyes stared her down, and she felt some of her anger dwindle.
If she were honest, she would have thought Harry would be the first to attack Pettigrew. But she must have underestimated her brother’s talent for keeping himself in place.
She bit back her tears that threatened to form. She knew her brother was right. The boy on the broom was innocent now. He was still friends with their father. He did not deserve to die yet.
“Harry.” She whispered in hopes he would understand how hard this was. How can she let the murderer of her parents just live, while they would die in only a few years? How can she let this boy live when he was the cause of her own suffering?
“Look who finally decided to join us.” Sirius jumped down from his broom. He had his boyish grin on his face again. She liked that.
James landed beside him. He pushed his glasses up his nose, while wrinkling his nose the same way Harry did. His smile came easily, so it seemed, as he came over to her side.
He lay an arm around her shoulders, and Charlotte winced at the sudden weight and the sweat that would surely ruin her fresh clothes.
“Mates, this is the other cousin I told you about, Charlotte.” He stopped to point at each boy. “Remus and Peter.”
Charlotte swallowed any insult that twirled around in her head and instead put on a forced smile.
However, it felt less forced when her eyes finally settled on Remus. Her Godfather.
He looked a lot younger, less scarred, but still as bone tired.
And all she wished in that moment was to fall into his arms.
While Harry had Sirius, who always fawned over him, Remus had been there for her. Despite the love she knew he had held for her, she also always felt this drift between them. Like he held her at arm's length.
She couldn’t hold it against him. He always felt himself to be a monster, unworthy and too dangerous to be around her, even as she told him time and time again that that was not true.
Now, looking at him, shrinking into himself and only giving her a polite smile, she knew she couldn’t just sit around and not try to make him feel even the slightest bit better about himself.
Charlotte wondered if Harry felt even the slightest bit of determination when looking at Sirius or James
“Nice to meet you.” She pushed out, her anger not quite blown over, but she hoped it was civil enough not to draw too much attention.
It must have worked, because James almost immediately pulled Harry by the shoulder to get back to the game.
Sirius and Peter – she knew she had to get used to calling him that – followed right after.
Her eyes flickered over to Remus, who had settled into one of the lounge chairs.
“Not a fan of flying?” Charlotte offered as a conversation starter once she was sure that the others were back to playing.
“Not really.” He barely looked up from the book he had opened up in his lap. It hurt to have him be civil to her only because he felt he had to.
She pushed down her upset and instead dropped into the chair next to him. If it bothered him, he did not show it.
“Well, me neither. And even if, I don’t think this skirt would allow it.” She joked, hoping to draw some sort of emotion out of him.
“Sirius did it once because he lost a bet.” Remus countered after a moment. He had a small grin on his face and a faraway look in his eyes.
Charlotte couldn’t hide her own smile.
“I can imagine that.” She answered truthfully. Her eyes swayed into the sky, watching the boys play Quidditch with no care in the world.
She allowed herself a few more minutes before leaving for her room again.
She knew her place in this time.