Chapter 339: Chapter 339: "A Note and a Mission"
Charles stepped out of the History of Magic exam hall, his mind still buzzing with details of goblin rebellions and giant wars. The OWLs were finally over, and a wave of relief washed over him, though it was tempered by the lingering exhaustion from weeks of studying. He stretched his arms, glancing at his friends, who were already chatting animatedly about their plans for the evening.
"That's it," Ron said with a wide grin. "No more exams. We're free!"
"For now," Hermione countered, though even she couldn't suppress a small smile. "But there's still next year to think about."
"Hermione, please," Neville said, shaking his head. "Let us enjoy this moment. We've earned it."
Charles chuckled, falling into step with his friends as they made their way down the corridor. The castle felt different now, lighter somehow, as if the weight of the exams had been lifted from its ancient stones. The late afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting warm golden beams across the floor. For a moment, everything felt normal—peaceful, even.
That peace shattered as they rounded a corner.
A Slytherin student—a fourth-year Charles vaguely recognized but couldn't name—came barreling around the bend, slamming into Charles with enough force to send them both sprawling. They hit the ground hard, books and parchment scattering everywhere.
"Watch it!" Ron snapped, quickly helping Charles to his feet.
The Slytherin, however, didn't apologize. He scrambled to his feet, his face pale and his eyes darting nervously around the corridor. Without a word, he turned and bolted, disappearing around the next corner.
"What was that all about?" Ginny asked, frowning as she jogged up to them. She had been looking for Charles and arrived just in time to witness the commotion.
"Weird," Neville muttered, kneeling to help gather Charles's scattered belongings.
Charles dusted himself off, his heart still racing from the sudden collision. "That was… odd," he said, frowning. "He didn't even say anything."
"Probably just another Slytherin being a git," Ron said with a shrug. "Come on, let's just forget about it."
Ginny glanced down the corridor where the Slytherin had disappeared, her frown deepening. "I don't know. He looked scared."
"Scared of what?" Neville asked, handing Charles his last book.
"Exactly," Ginny replied softly, her gaze lingering on the empty hallway. "Scared of what?"
They were about to move on when Charles felt something unusual in the pocket of his robes. It wasn't there before—he was sure of it. His hand closed around a small, folded piece of parchment, and his stomach dropped.
"Wait," he said, holding up a hand to stop his friends. "There's something here."
He pulled out the note, his fingers trembling slightly as he unfolded it. The handwriting was neat but hurried, the ink smudged in places as if the writer had been in a rush. Charles's eyes scanned the words, and his face turned pale.
"What is it?" Hermione asked, her voice sharp with concern.
Charles swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. "It's… it's about Remus," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He read the note aloud:
"If you want to save your godfather, the werewolf Lupin, come to the Prophecy Hall of the Department of Mysteries. Come alone, and come quickly. Time is running short, and I personally have little patience for filthy half-breeds. Come alone, or he dies."
A heavy silence fell over the group, the weight of the words hanging like a storm cloud. Ron was the first to break it.
"This has to be a prank," he said, his voice rising with anger. "Some Slytherin git trying to scare you. I'm going to find that bloke and—"
"Ron, wait," Hermione interrupted, her brow furrowed in thought. She turned to Charles. "When was the last time you saw Remus?"
Charles hesitated, his mind racing. "I… I haven't seen him in weeks. The last I heard, he was going undercover to spy on a werewolf gathering. My parents were worried—they said it was dangerous."
Hermione's expression darkened. "Then this might not be a prank. If Remus is in trouble…"
"We need to tell Dumbledore," Neville said firmly. "He'll know what to do."
The group nodded in agreement and immediately set off for the headmaster's office. Charles's heart pounded as they climbed the stairs, his mind racing with worry for Remus. When they reached the gargoyle guarding the entrance, Charles quickly gave the password ("Sherbet Lemon"), and they hurried inside. But the circular room was empty, save for the silent portraits lining the walls.
"Where is he?" Ron asked, looking around in frustration.
One of the portraits—a stern-looking wizard with a long, flowing beard—cleared his throat. "Headmaster Dumbledore received urgent news and left the castle," he said. "He did not say when he would return."
Charles's stomach churned. "What about my mother, Professor Potter?" he asked anxiously. "Is she in the school? Can you tell me where she is?"
The portrait shook his head. "I believe Professor Potter left the school with the headmaster. Something about an Order of the Phoenix meeting."
"What about Professor McGonagall?" Hermione suggested, her voice tight with worry.
"She accompanied the Ministry officials overseeing the exams," the portrait replied. "She has not yet returned."
Charles clenched his fists, frustration and fear bubbling up inside him. "What do we do now?" he asked, turning to his friends.
"We need to find Harry," Neville said after a moment of tense silence.
Though Charles hesitated—his relationship with his brother was complicated at best—he nodded. Harry would know what to do.
The group raced through the castle, searching every likely spot for any sign of Harry. The corridors were unusually quiet, most students still outside enjoying the sunny afternoon. Their footsteps echoed as they moved quickly from one location to another.
They finally found Harry's friends by the Black Lake, lounging in the late afternoon sun. The group looked relaxed, enjoying the rare reprieve from exams. But there was no sign of Harry. Cedric looked up as Charles and his friends approached, his expression curious.
"Have you seen Harry?" Charles asked, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice.
Cedric shook his head. "He left a few hours ago. Didn't say where he was going. Why? Is something wrong?"
Charles hesitated, glancing at Hermione for guidance. She stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. "We need his help with something urgent. If you see him, can you let him know?"
Cedric nodded, though his eyes narrowed slightly with concern. "Of course. I'll tell him as soon as I see him."
As they turned to leave, Fred and George, who had been lounging nearby and clearly eavesdropping, caught up with them.
"Spill it, Charlie-boy—"
"—something's obviously wrong—"
"—and we want in," George finished, his tone unusually serious.
Charles hesitated again, torn between keeping the secret and accepting the twins' help. But before he could decide, Hermione stepped in, quickly summarizing the situation. The twins' easygoing expressions hardened into something far more focused as they listened.
"What's the plan, then?" George asked after a moment of silence.
Charles squared his shoulders, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "I'm going to save him."
"You're not going alone," George said firmly.
"But—" Charles began.
"No arguments," Fred interrupted, his usual grin replaced with a rare look of determination. "This is Remus we're talking about. We're not letting you do this by yourself."
Charles glanced around at the group—Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Fred, and George—all of them wearing the same resolute expressions. A surge of gratitude swelled within him. He knew he couldn't stop them, and deep down, he didn't want to. They were his family, in every way that mattered.
"Alright," he said finally, nodding. "But we need a plan. How do we get to the Ministry?"
The group fell silent, considering their options. Apparition was out of the question—Fred and George weren't confident about side-along Apparition over such a long distance. The Floo Network was too risky, and they didn't have access to a Portkey.
"I believe I can help with that."
They all jumped, spinning around to find Luna Lovegood standing behind them. She had appeared so quietly that none of them had noticed her approach. Her dreamy expression held a rare edge of determination as she gestured toward the Forbidden Forest.
"Thestrals," she said simply. "They can take us to the Ministry of Magic."
Charles blinked. "Thestrals?"
Luna nodded serenely. "They're fast, and they can fly us straight to the Ministry. No one will even see us coming."
It was a risky plan, but it was the best they had. The group exchanged glances before nodding, their resolve firm. With Luna leading the way, they made their way to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The towering trees cast long shadows as the sun dipped lower in the sky, and the air was thick with the sounds of rustling leaves and distant bird calls.
In a clearing, the thestrals waited—silent, dark, and otherworldly. Their skeletal forms and leathery wings would have been unsettling to anyone who couldn't see them. The creatures regarded the group with calm, unblinking eyes, their presence both eerie and comforting.
Charles approached one of the thestrals, his heart pounding as he placed a hesitant hand on its side. The creature didn't flinch, merely flicked its tail and adjusted its wings. Gathering his courage, he climbed onto its back, gripping tightly as the thestral shifted beneath him.
One by one, the others mounted their own thestrals, their faces a mix of fear and determination. Ginny's hands shook slightly as she took the reins, while Fred and George exchanged nervous grins, trying to lighten the mood.
Luna was the last to mount, her gaze dreamy but focused. "They'll take us where we need to go," she said softly. "Hold on tight."
With a rustle of wings, the thestrals took off, their powerful legs propelling them into the air. The ground fell away beneath them as the creatures soared above the treetops, their dark forms blending seamlessly with the encroaching night. The wind rushed past them, cold and sharp, as they flew toward London.
Charles gripped the reins tightly, his mind racing. He couldn't shake the feeling that they were flying into something far bigger than they realized—something dangerous and unpredictable. But there was no turning back now. Remus's life was at stake, and Charles was determined to save him, no matter the cost.
Eight invisible horses carried the unlikely rescue party toward the Ministry of Magic, their dark wings beating steadily against the twilight sky. Far below, the Hogwarts grounds grew smaller and smaller, the castle fading into the distance.
None of them noticed the figure of Harry Potter returning to the castle just as they disappeared over the horizon.
Chapter 340: Chapter 340: "An Army at the Gates Part - 1"
Harry returned to Hogwarts with a heavy sense of dread, though the castle itself seemed alive with celebration. The corridors buzzed with chatter, laughter echoed off the stone walls, and the occasional burst of magic punctuated the festive atmosphere as students showed off newly mastered spells. It was a stark contrast to the tension twisting in Harry's chest.
Despite the apparent normalcy, Harry's instincts screamed that something was wrong. He moved quickly through the crowded halls, scanning for any sign of trouble. His steps quickened as the nagging sense of unease grew.
It wasn't long before he spotted his friends—Cedric, Roger, Alicia, and Reggy—lounging near the entrance to the Great Hall. They were laughing at some shared joke, their faces bright with the carefree joy of students who had just finished exams. But the moment they saw Harry, their expressions changed. Relief flickered briefly before being replaced by concern.
"Harry!" Cedric called, his voice cutting through the noise. "There you are! We've been looking everywhere for you."
Harry slowed to a stop, his sharp eyes assessing the group. "I was... out of the castle," he said, his tone deliberately vague. "Why? What's going on?"
"Out of the castle?" Alicia repeated, her eyes wide. "How? We're not even allowed to leave the grounds!"
Harry shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at his lips despite the tension in his chest. "There's a secret passage to Hogsmeade. From there, I just apparate wherever I need to go."
Roger blinked, his expression a mix of surprise and mild admiration. "Is that even allowed? Won't you get in trouble?"
"Not if you don't get caught," Harry replied lightly. "Besides, it's not like I'm doing it every day."
Reggy opened his mouth, likely to bombard Harry with questions about the logistics, but Cedric cut him off, his tone urgent. "Harry, your brother and his friends were looking for you earlier. They seemed really worried—like something serious was happening."
Harry's smirk disappeared instantly, replaced by a sharp, focused look. His stomach dropped as Cedric's words registered. Charles? They barely spoke unless necessary, let alone sought each other out. For Charles to come looking for him, something must have gone terribly wrong—something he couldn't handle on his own.
"Did they say what it was about?" Harry asked sharply, his tone edged with urgency.
Cedric shook his head. "No, but judging by their faces, it didn't look good. They were in a hurry."
Harry's jaw tightened as he nodded. "Thanks for letting me know." He was already turning to leave.
"Wait!" Cedric called after him. "Where are you going? Do you need help?"
"No," Harry said over his shoulder, his voice firm. "I'll find them and figure out what's going on. If it's something serious, I'll contact Amelia and Sirius. They'll bring in the Aurors. You all stay here and enjoy the celebrations."
Before Cedric could reply, Harry broke into a run, his thoughts racing. He needed to find Charles quickly and hoped against hope that they were still within the castle. If they'd left Hogwarts… no, that would spell trouble.
As he moved, Harry reached into his robes and pulled out the Marauder's Map. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he muttered, and the map sprang to life. His eyes scanned the parchment with practiced efficiency, searching for the names of Charles, Ron, Hermione, or anyone else in their group.
Nothing. Their names weren't on the map.
Harry's stomach dropped. If they weren't in the castle, there was only one logical place they could have gone: the Department of Mysteries. The thought sent a chill through him. This was no longer just a hunch—it was a near certainty.
His mind worked quickly, piecing together the situation. If Charles had been lured to the Ministry, it had to be Voldemort's doing. The prophecy orb was the key, and Voldemort would stop at nothing to get it. But Harry also knew something Voldemort didn't: Charles wouldn't be able to retrieve the orb.
When that moment came, everyone would realize the truth: Charles wasn't the Boy Who Lived after all. It was going to be a harsh wake-up call for everyone involved—Charles, Dumbledore, Voldemort, all of them.
But before any of that could happen, Harry had to act. He didn't just have to prevent Voldemort from getting the prophecy—he had to keep Charles and his friends alive. That was going to be the real challenge.
Harry bolted through the corridors, heading for the nearest exit. His destination was clear: Black Castle. Sirius needed to know, and the Aurors needed to be ready. This wasn't just about a prophecy anymore—it was about saving lives.
---
Harry apparated directly into the courtyard of Black Castle, the ancient stone walls casting long shadows under the pale moonlight. He didn't waste time with formalities, bursting into the study where Sirius and Arcturus were leaning over maps and reports.
Sirius looked up, his expression shifting from surprise to alarm as he took in Harry's urgency. "Harry? What's going on?"
"It's Charles," Harry said, his voice tight with urgency. "He's gone. Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, Ginny, Fred, and George too. I think Voldemort lured them to the Department of Mysteries."
Sirius's face went pale. "What? How?"
"I don't know," Harry admitted, frustration creeping into his voice. "But they're not at Hogwarts, and the only thing that makes sense is the Ministry. Voldemort wants the prophecy, and he's using Charles as bait."
Arcturus stood, his sharp gaze darkening. "If his dark army is already gathering and now this, it's clear Voldemort's making a decisive move. Once he gets that prophecy, he might use the chaos to seize control of the Ministry. This is bad."
"I know," Harry said through gritted teeth. "We have to stop him from getting the prophecy. If we fail, Voldemort might use it to push his plans further. Fighting him and his army inside the Ministry puts us at a disadvantage. My abilities are strongest in open combat—I can't do much in a confined space."
Sirius was already moving, grabbing his coat and wand. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We won't let it escalate to that. If we stop Voldemort from getting the prophecy, we'll force him to retreat. I'll contact Amelia and the Order. They need to know Charles is missing, and we'll need every Auror and fighter we can get."
Harry nodded, his mind racing through the possibilities. "We need to move fast. If Voldemort's already there and has his hands on the prophecy…"
Suddenly, Harry stiffened. A familiar magical pulse rippled through his consciousness—the alarm wards at his house had been triggered. Sirius noticed the shift in his demeanor immediately.
"Harry," Sirius said, his voice cutting through the heavy silence. "What's wrong?"
Harry didn't respond right away, his focus turned inward as he attuned himself to the faint but unmistakable thrum of the wards. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and steady. "Someone's attacking my house. The wards just went off."
Sirius's brow furrowed. "Your house? Who would—?"
Before he could finish, a small pop echoed through the room as Mira appeared, her large eyes wide with panic and ears twitching nervously. "Master Harry!" she squeaked. "There are bad people outside the house! Wolves, bats, giants—so many of them! They're trying to break the wards and destroy everything!"
The room fell silent as the implications of her words sank in.
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