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katherinewilliams221b · 1 year

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His Final Word

Summary: The moon is high, the wind blows and the occasional owl’s hoot breaks the silence of the night. Kate and Charlie are asleep in their cabin in Romania, until uninvited guests make an appearance. And they don’t come empty handed. (1/1)

Pairing: Charlie Weasley/Jacob’s sibling (mc)

A/N: You don’t need to read other fics to understand but there are hints for those who have.

Kate slowly unglued her eyelids open. She was on her back, facing the ceiling of her bedroom, Charlie’s arm rested comfortably around her hips.

She turned her head on the pillow, the redhead was sleeping soundly on his stomach next to her, his soft snores were one of the few sounds that could be heard.

She focused her vision towards the window, left open to let a soft summer breeze cool the room. From her spot on the bed, she could see the toe-nail shaped moon with a watery halo around it.

The night seemed tranquil; she could hear distant cricket sounds coming from the forest nearby, an occasional owl’s hoot as well if she paid enough attention.

Staring at the ceiling, she focused on her breathing, on her senses. What woke her?

It wasn’t uncommon for her to wake up in the middle of the night since the war started; she was always on high alert, the softest of sounds interrupting her rest, even more so since the animagus potion took effect.

She remained there, eyes open, staring into nothingness, only listening. She placed both hands to Charlie’s forearm, drawing circles with her thumbs against his rough skin.

A sudden gust of air created goosebumps on her arm, making her squeeze his in return.

Kate couldn’t see him, but his snores stopped and his forearm pressed a bit more around her hips. Charlie moved beside her, closer, his naked torso acted as a barrier between her and the window, his warmth acting as a balm against her uneasiness.

Still on his stomach, he slid a strong thigh on top of hers and she sighed, closing her eyes momentarily as his lips pressed against her shoulder.

She shifted one hand to continue her caress towards his shoulder, meeting the soft burn scar on his biceps, and then down to his wrist again.

“‘ts wrong?” he whispered against her neck, making her shiver again for entirely different reasons.

“Don’t know.” She matched his tone of voice, afraid to disrupt her concentration and his sleep, which he was clearly fighting against.

After a moment, Charlie’s body became limp again as soon as sleep took him. Not hearing anything out of the ordinary, Kate let her breathing even out and closed her eyes.

And that’s when she heard it.

A distant hoof sound, almost lost among the crickets, the owls and the wind. She would have thought nothing of it before her training, but now she was more capable in the legilimency arts, more attuned to her mind and others’ and more in control of what the voices and shadows inside her mind meant.

She tensed instantly at the sound, and with forearms against the bed, she lifted her torso.

Charlie was up instantly, hair ruffled, panting. He took his arm and leg from her and grabbed her inner elbow gently and questioning.

“Someone’s here.” She murmured.

They were frozen in place, tuning their hearing for any indication of a threat. The candles were out, the cabin was almost dark except of the blue light coming from the moon. She could only discern Charlie’s profile.

“Muggles?” he questioned, and she shook her head. She waited several long seconds, the pressure in her head intensifying, the fog of her mind clearing as the figure or figures got closer.

“Three wizards.”

Almost in exact coordination, the couple reached under their respective pillows and retrieved their wands. Charlie left the bed and closed the window, immediately leaving them in a deafening silence. As he put a shirt over his head, he could get a glimpse of a cat’s tail leave the room. Kate was nowhere to be seen.

She marched in cat form across the small kitchen and living room, towards the front door and jumped on one of the windowsills beside it. Peaking through the curtains, she could see them.

Three hooded figures stood at the entrance of the forest, staring at the cabin. She was uncertain they could see her, but it felt like they were looking directly at her.

She waited.

It was more difficult to use legilimency while in her animagus form, it required too much energy, and it carried a risk of dropping the cat form accidentally. However, she was skilled enough to get intentions and superficial thoughts.

She heard Charlie move behind her, towards the fireplace, inside the fireplace.

The figures were on the move, towards the cabin, slowly. They were men, she sensed, and two of them were carrying something behind what it seem their leader. They moved cautiously and stopped to talk to each other once before resuming their pace. As they got closer, Kate could see the leader draw his wand.

‘Three men. One of them with a wand. The rest carrying things. Should I scare them?’ she thought to Charlie.

‘Are they walking towards us?’ Charlie thought back.

‘Yes.’

‘Protection is up, though.’

‘They know.’

She watched as the man with the wand tested the cabin. He held his wand up, receiving the soft ‘whoom’ sound of the spell around the house as it bounced back at him. They shared another hushed conversation, close enough to the cabin where Kate could hear some words, one of them being her name.

‘They know me,’ She thought, surprised.

‘This is the moment to stop them there, love.’

Kate waited until the figures stood right at the bottom of the porch’s stairs. The two men on the back seemed unsure, they were shifty, changing their weight from foot to foot. But the leader had a calculating mind, he knew exactly where he was, and as close as he was, she could discern their thoughts more.

“There’s a cat in the window.” One of them whispered. Their leader looked in her direction but kept silent. Kate just stared at him, hoping to unnerve him enough so they would think twice before approaching the door. But his mind was focused, intrigued, questioning. She couldn’t see his face yet, and this was starting to agitate her.

The man raised his foot, still staring at her, searching for something, and when he placed it on top of the first step, she had enough.

‘Be careful, now.’ she said into his mind slowly.

The man froze momentarily before putting his foot down. Accepting her suggestion. Before she could do it herself, the man took his hood down.

Moonlight hit his face, revealing a pale wrinkled expression with thin, almost unhealthy features. Sharp, yellowish eyes stared at her.

“Miss Williams?” he said in a grave voice.

“Sir, are you talking to the cat?”

She didn’t respond right away, instead she inspected him; his stance, his hands, the way he carried himself with an air of importance, the satisfied smile of having found what he was looking for.

‘This may sound bonkers, but I think this is the minister of magic and two aurors.’ she informed Charlie. She could feel his confusion, but didn’t respond. Focusing on the visitors again, she carefully avoided his question.

‘It’s a little late for a visit.’ she thought into his mind.

The man nodded, placing his wand inside his sleeve, and raising his hands. A silver ring on his pinky finger shone with the moonlight.

“I’m afraid this could not wait,” he started carefully out loud. “My name is Rufus Scrimgeour.”

Kate wanted to hum with satisfaction at her correct assumption.

‘I heard that.’ Charlie informed.

Kate waited, keeping the cat façade a little while longer, trying to intimidate them. She was succeeding with the other two, she sensed, but with Scrimgeour, not so much.longer,

“I have an important message from Albus Dumbledore to Katherine Williams and Charles Septimus Weasley.”

Her ears perked up involuntarily, and she cursed silently. With a nod of her head, the two aurors’ hoods snapped back to reveal their faces. Kate didn’t recognise them.

‘Should I?’ Charlie asked.

‘Go ahead.’

Charlie moved his wand, and the heavy bolt of the door unlocked. With another swish, the wooden door opened, making dragged creaking sounds on its way.

Scrimgeour’s eyes left her to stare at the now open entrance. Kate left the windowsill as soon as he got distracted, crossed the room and hopped on the fridge. Now, the door was flanked; the black fur helped her blend in the shadows on the right side, and from her spot she could sense Charlie across from her, hidden inside the fireplace on the left side of the door.

As soon as the three of them entered the small kitchen, Charlie closed the door and locked it from afar, Kate hopped off the fridge and transformed mid air before waving her wand, expelling the two aurors’ wands hidden in their belts towards her. Charlie took charge of Scrimgeour’s wand, catching it with ease before waving a hand to light the candles scattered around the room.

Soon, the three visitors had two wands pointing at their heads.

Kate eyed Charlie briefly, admitting they didn’t look too intimidating; her with messy brown locks wearing a tank top and shorts, and Charlie with copper curls sticking out in every direction, dark circles under his eyes and only wearing boxers and a Holyhead Harpies merchandising shirt.

“I’m sure you understand the precautions, sir,” Charlie stated.

“Of course.” Scrimgeour bowed his head and turned to Kate. “You are a very skilled young witch.”

Kate eyed him carefully, before turning her gaze towards the two aurors. They didn’t seem scared or bothered about their wands, almost as if they were expecting it. One of them was holding a heavy wooden chest and the other a black velvet bag. She looked at Scrimgeour again.

“Thanks.”

Only when Kate lowered her wand, Charlie retreated his own.

“Although I don’t remember seeing you in the Ministry registering your animagus form.” He accused with smirking eyes.

“I suppose you had the day off at that moment.” Scrimgeour huffed a chuckle, and linked his fingers in front of him.

“Tea?” Charlie offered, making his way towards the kitchen. He passed right next to her, and Kate resisted the urge to caress his arm. Instead, she approached the aurors.

“You can leave… whatever that is,” she looked at Scrimgeour, “over there.”

“That, Miss Williams, is Albus Dumbledore’s message.” He sat down on the small couch, producing a letter from his breast pocket.

“You have some nerve disarming the Ministry of Magic like that.” One of the aurors said.

“Now, Arius, this is a… special circumstance. You must understand we are living in very unique times.”

“That’s one way to put it.” Charlie said from the stove.

“Hold on… what happened to the cat?” asked the other man. Kate lifted a brow, amused, and walked over to the small settee across Scrimgeour.

A wooden tray with five cups and a pot flew over to them and rested on the coffee table. Kate reached out to serve the tea while Charlie took a seat next to her.

Scrimgeour eyed them curiously.

“I cannot seem to pinpoint the relationship you held with Dumbledore. Both of you. Apart from the involvement you had back in the day of the Cursed Vaults incident, of course.”

The two aurors stood behind him, alert but relaxed. She sensed Charlie relax beside her as well.

“Our history, Minister, is long and complicated. And it seems to have stayed that way even after his death. Tell me, what could be so important for you to spend time and resources tracking and following us here?” she took a sip from her cup.

“First, let me congratulate you both in that regard. You left almost no trace of your movements back in England, it was a mighty task. But I felt it was my responsibility to deliver this for you. I understand that your brother is getting married in a few days’ time, Mr Weasley?”

Charlie tensed.

“Yes, sir.”

“We will meet again there, as I must discuss some more details of Dumbledore’s death with other individuals, but the instructions were clear for both of you; we needed to be alone.”

‘He’s sincere.’

‘For now.’

With a wave of the hand, the letter flew in the air and opened, revealing an official document signed by A. Dumbledore.

“What I brought to you is the Last Will and Testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,” he read. Before he changed to the second page, Kate could have sworn that she saw the name Harry Potter on the first page, but Scrimgeour didn’t comment on it.

“To Mr Charles Septimus Weasley, I leave an extremely curious artifact I stumbled upon in my youth. I have always had a clear idea of the places I needed to go, so this glove may aid him more that it served me.”

With a confused look, Charlie slowly untied the velvet bag one of the aurors had put on his lap. With gentle hands, he retrieved a single leather glove, meant to be a twin for a set of quidditch gear.

Kate studied his face and then the glove, trying to identify the degree of danger that it could offer. Charlie seemed to trust Dumbledore’s judgement, for he slid his right hand inside of it.

Everyone in the room held their breath, staring intently at his arm.

But nothing happened.

He stood, flexing his fingers as he tested the leather, and made his way towards a nook next to the fireplace. A couple of brooms rested against the stone and he grabbed one of the sticks.

Still, nothing.

Scrimgeour visibly deflated, and with a sigh, he kept reading.

“To Miss Katherine Williams, I leave first and foremost my profound and sincere apology along with my most valued chest. Inside, 32 vials of ingredients in the hopes she will regain some more insight in these trying times.”

The chest was polished, no signs of locks or buttons to open it. One of the aurors placed it on the coffee table in front of her. Scrimgeour couldn’t take his eyes off it.

“We weren’t able to open it.”

Both Charlie and Kate snapped their heads at him.

“Why would you want to?” Charlie accused.

“A matter of security, I assure you.”

“Of course…” Kate murmured with a huff.

She leaned in and when the palms of her hands touched the sides of the box, the lid opened with force, making her gasp.

“Fascinating.” the Minister exhaled.

Inspecting the vials, Kate noticed a translucent liquid inside each of them, apparently the same for all the flasks. Picking one up, she read the label;

Durmstrang, 1996

Her breath caught up in her throat. Grabbing another flask, she turned the tag;

Williams Manor, 1981

Kate left them where they belonged in haste and closed the lid, sealing the magic chest once again. Charlie was looking at her with wide eyes, and she knew he understood the meaning behind the content of those flasks.

Scrimgeour stared expectantly.

“Very rare ingredients, some of them… not too legal. Dumbledore knew I had the intention of keeping up with my alchemy.”

Scrimgeour hummed, not convinced.

“Very well, then.”

“Sir,” Charlie started, “I hope you don’t mind, but it will be best to leave the place as soon as possible.”

Kate snapped out of her thoughts and agreed, standing up.

“We appreciate the trouble of you coming all the way here, but… with all due respect, you are a walking bull’s eye at the moment.”

The Minister seemed surprised by Charlie’s bluntness, but Kate could see the acceptance in his eyes as he stood. She returned the wands to each of the owners, and Scrimgeour smiled in gratitude.

“I guess we will meet each other in a short time. Weasley, Williams. We will see ourselves out.” Charlie cordially shook his hand, and Kate followed suit.

After waving a hand, the tray flew over to the sink, and the flames of the candles died down, leaving them in semi-darkness. Kate watched from the window, as the Minister and his two aurors dissolved into the night, disapparating just when they reached the border of the forest. She remained there, arms crosses, staring at the moon with a light frown between her brows.

Soft steps approached her, and soon Charlie’s broad chest was pressed against her, his arms around her middle. She brought her hands on top of his forearms and stood in a loving embrace for a while. She could sense his troubled mind.

“I don’t like this,” she breathed. The redhead tightened his grip around her, keeping an eye on the forest.

“Me neither.”

“I don’t even want to know how he found us.”

Charlie sighed against her shoulder, resting his lips there, pensive. After a moment, he raised his head again.

“What I would do… is find me first. It’s easy, the dragon reserve is well known, and he has the means to track magic along a vast perimeter. And even if we erased every movement related to you in London, you had to register in Bucharest’s hospital to be able to work there.”

Kate tsked.

“And they had a whole month to do so.”

“Do you really think he’s a… what did you say? Walking bull’s eye?”

Charlie sighed, hiding his face on the side of her neck.

“It’s a matter of time. The fastest way to control wizards is the Ministry. With a couple of corruptible aurors and the right contacts… they just have to find the right moment.”

“Why does your brother need to make a grand party out of this? Reuniting a bunch of skilled witches and wizards, known figures, important figures all in one place. This is the worst time…”

“I’m just trying to support him…” he whispered, his voice small, almost broken.

Kate turned in his arms, placing her palms to his chest and caressing her way up his neck.

“I know… I’m sorry.”

“I have argued with him about this. Believe me, I’ve tried.” he couldn’t meet her eyes, his gaze was fixed on her collarbones.

“I also know that.”

“Please… let’s just… this is important to him.” Kate nodded, pressing her body against his, her hands sneaking around his shoulders in an amorous hug.

“Alright,” she whispered in his ear. “‘m sorry.”

He relaxed in her arms, exhaling softly at the feeling of her fingers untangling his hair, and her soft pecks on his neck. All too soon, she stopped, remaining still in his arms.

“Those are my memories, Charlie.” He was afraid she would go towards the box, leaving his embrace, he wasn’t ready. But Kate held onto him tighter. “Memories he stole, or had someone else steal for him. And he has the… audacity to say he apologises, leaving them to me, implying it’s a legacy instead of a debt.”

One of Charlie’s hand held her head, gently massaging the back of her neck.

Kate kept her gaze on the wooden box and the velvet bag next to him in silence.

“Tomorrow, love,” He placed a kiss on her temple, and a second and another one for good measure. “Tomorrow.”

Kate nodded, untangling herself from him just enough to hold his hand. After one last look towards the forest, they marched hip to hip towards the bedroom, dreading the events that would take place under a wedding tent some days later.

#charlie weasley #charlie weasley x mc #charlie weasley x jacob's sibling #charlie weasley fanfiction #katherine williams #kat tag

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katherinewilliams221b · 1 year

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Our Time To Bloom

Chapter 4: Potion Making

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Summary: Two months after the war, the couple is more distant than ever. Kate accompanies her grandfather on a trip to Ireland, where her past and present will collide in unexpected ways. Charlie stays in Romania with a decision to make: will he follow her and uncover all unsaid things? Romance/Drama /Mystery

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Charlie Weasley/Kate Williams (hphm mc, original female character) established relationship

1933, Cobh, Ireland

Bernard lowered the bike to the ground where the others usually lay. He had reached the clearing where he would meet the rest of his classmates.

He walked a little further into the forest, approaching the central tree. The silence of the place made the sound of his moccasins against the soil deafening. A shiver ran through his body as he strolled through an area that was barely touched by the sun. The vegetation was abundant, green, damp. The central tree split its trunk into three large parts covered with thick green moss, which twisted around each other until they were lost at the top of the treetops.

He circled it cautiously, putting his hand in the pocket of his shorts, touching only the fabric. He hadn’t brought his watch, so he could only wait. With a leap, he clambered onto a wet rock and crossed his legs, resting his elbows on them and on his clenched fists, his chin.

He listened to the surrounding sounds; the birds, the faint murmur of the nearby stream, the voice of Astilles, the young centaur teaching the children in the third circle. The boy’s mind began to fantasise about attending Magic Applications classes. To be able to start casting spells and potions, interacting with animals, transfigurations? It seemed so unattainable... When he turned 6, he was excited to start classes at Marlogue Woods like his siblings, however, he spent three years condemned to learning to read and write English, Irish and Latin, and simply doing calculus like Muggle children. That was the reality of Circle 1: General Studies, taught by the ever-laughing witch Marsaili.

He sighed in resignation. It had only been a few weeks since he had started Circle 2: Understanding of Magic, but so far they had done nothing related to magic. Daartir had spent his time talking about energy and trees and water, and worst of all, none of his siblings were with him to share in his suffering. He couldn’t help but feel envious of Jane or Lili, who by their brilliant merits had been rapidly ascending to the more advanced Circles, Magic Applications and Mastery of Magic. Ancient runes, apparition, ancient studies, dark magic... A world full of possibilities.

He raised his head and looked around. Just as he was beginning to think that perhaps the class had already started, and they had gone to another part of the forest without him, the braided trunk began to move slowly, untangling the branches that snaked around it and revealing an oval-shaped hollow of darkness.

He descended from the rock as an elf emerged from the bowels of the tree wearing a friendly smile. He wore a brown cloth waistcoat with a hood with holes, allowing his long, pointed ears to stick out of them, and matching trousers. On his feet he wore green rain boots, so large for his short stature that they came up to his thighs. The greenish tone of his skin made him almost invisible as he blended in among the leaves and branches of the area.

Just as Bernard saw Daartir emerge from the tree and the trunk curling back behind him, his classmates arrived so that the class could begin. Two kids approached Bernard’s bike and left their own beside it. A girl with bronze skin and hazel eyes approached the tree after hopping off her bike, waving at Bernard and offering him a smile. An almost copy of her appeared next to Bernard, who, although knowing she was a year older than her sister, had trouble distinguishing them.

“Eva, Marianna, Bernard. Welcome.” the raspy voice of Daartir reached them as they shared their hellos. “Today we will not go to the usual place…” he said mysteriously. “I think you are ready for something… new.”

With sparkling eyes and excited questions, the three students followed Daartir across the forest, occasionally guiding themselves with the walking trails and, of course, the signs that prevented inquisitive muggles from approaching the area.

After fifteen minutes of walking, the pines began to scatter, allowing them to see more of the skies and the water of the shoreline until they revealed a tranquil beach. Concealed with green hills in the distance and the line of the dense forest at their backs, Daartir had led them to a secret spot Bernard was sure no one had found before.

“Where the ocean meets the woods.” Daartir described as he let his ears free from the hood, revealing a grey patch of thin hairs on top of his head. He threw his boots away from him, not bothering where they landed, and stormed off to the water. He clapped once and extended his arms, looking at the children. In less than two seconds, a spiral of water swirled around him, grabbing his legs and waist as if having a mind of its own, elevating him in the air.

“Today we will do some magic.”

With a feeling of accomplishment bubbling in his veins, he pedalled off as fast as he could towards the road, eager to tell Mam what he had learned at the stream that day. Large fields on either side stretched as far as the eye could see, green and yellow colours decorating the landscape, which, although monotonous, made the journey home a pleasant one. With the wind in his face and ruffling his blond locks, he stood up a little to gain speed, knowing that in a few seconds he would pass by The Shack, a place made of pieces of metal and wood, most likely intended to store tools and equipment for field work but that for Bernard, it was the home of a wicked devil who took the children who passed by on the road. Or so Paddy had told him, and he knew a lot more about the area than he did.

He buzzed as fast as his thin legs would allow, barely noticing The Shack lag to his left. He sighed in relief at the sight of the stone wall on either side, indicating that the danger had passed, and sat back in the saddle, slowing down. He took a quick glance at his wristwatch, without stopping, and calculated the time he had been pedalling. Next stop: the White House. He stopped his knees, letting the momentum carry him along the road and enjoying the leafy yellow flowers that decorated the edges of the road, moving his legs every now and then to keep moving but not interested in gaining speed.

The sky suddenly clouded over, lowering the brightness of the colours of the landscape, and Bernard jerked violently as a shiver ran through his body. He lost control of the handlebars for an instant, causing him to lurch from side to side of the road. He let out a groan as he regained control, hoping he wouldn’t have to jump off the bike to get his feet on the ground. Once he had steadied himself, he looked back for a second, checking that, even though the road was deserted, no one had seen his slip. He was sure his nose was red with unwarranted embarrassment.

The walls of The White House rose through the trees, and garden features appeared as he went: the clothes line with hanging clothes, the rusty swing, and the picnic table that, to his disappointment, no one was using. His stomach growled at the thought of the bread and butter he could have got, and he pedalled harder, wanting to get home as soon as possible.

The landscape suddenly changed, the trees became thicker around the road, forming a tunnel of leaves that shadowed the road and made it difficult to see the surroundings. As he dodged rocks and a few potholes (surely put there on purpose to disturb his cycling path), he thought about the tricky part of the road: the Yellow Farm Crossing.

“Let’s see...” he muttered, “if to come, I turn right... to go back...” He reached the intersection faster than he had anticipated and, in a moment of short-circuit in his reasoning, headed for the road to the right so that, a tenth of a second later, he swerved left, raising a cloud of dirt around him. “Shit!”

He coughed a little as he continued on his way, forgetting about his slip when he remembered what was coming: Old Niall. A nasty old man who had no qualms about telling anyone who breathed near his tomatoes anything but compliments, including him. Especially him.

Bernard pedalled hesitantly, slowing down to steer the bike with one hand, while with the other he brushed dust from his hair and adjusted his rucksack on his shoulders. Squeezing the brake gently, he rode past the old man’s house, inspecting the small orchard, and stopped after the last wooden plank of the fence.

He stretched out his legs and for the second that the bike remained balanced, Bernard leaned to one side, making anyone who saw him think he was about to fall to the ground. However, having had practice with a bike too big for his size, he put his foot on the ground at the last moment and jumped so that he could uncross his other leg.

He carefully set the bike down on the ground and crept over to old Niall’s garden. All the curtains in the house were drawn and there was no sound from inside.

A single tomato hung from the plants behind the wood and, with an inexplicable thirst for revenge, he leaned over the planks that reached his stomach and stretched out his arm as far as he could. He lifted his heels off the ground for extra momentum, and the moment he brushed against the fruit, a clatter of keys broke the silence. In a last-ditch effort, and with his heart pumping at full speed, he grabbed the tomato and then yanked it, slipping away with his conquest before he was caught.

He looked back in terror as he put the prize in his backpack and with as much strength as his scrawny arms would allow him, he lifted the bicycle in a single movement. He started pedalling without sitting up fully and lost himself in the bushes and trees that were his accomplices in the crime that made him laugh out loud for a long time.

The density of the houses began to increase as he went on. White, yellow or green, the farmhouses in the area alerted Bernard that he was approaching the little village of Ballymore and thus the halfway point. He sped past the walls of the buildings, weaving through cats, litter, and several tractors that weren’t supposed to be there. Engrossed with the idea of bragging about his impromptu theft to his siblings, he came to the fork in the road out of the village which, had he been more focused, he would have followed the wooden arrow that clearly indicated the road accessible to cars, which in white letters read ‘Cobh’.

He turned off onto the dirt track to the left where the landscape was overshadowed by the trees towering over the stone walls, the leaves touching the canopy and creating an ever narrowing dark passageway that barely allowed a glimpse of the sky. Having travelled too far to turn back, Bernard kept moving, but with a strange feeling in the back of his neck.

The movement of the trees, the shadows across the trunks, the stony silence, the unfamiliar path and the idea somewhere in the back of his head that old Niall had run off after him, Bernard’s mind began to become suggestible, swirling to be alert to every little change in his surroundings.

He was terrified.

He lightened his pace, desperate to find his way out of this increasingly cold tunnel. A strange figure appeared like a shadow in the distance and in no time it changed from a terrifying child-eating monster to a woman walking a dog.

Bernard stopped pedalling, as if it took his concentration away from breathing, and once he was calmer, he slowed down in front of her. She was an older woman, with very light blonde hair, almost white, on her shoulders. She was carrying a dog that Bernard couldn’t tell if it was brown with white spots, or white with brown spots, but it was wagging its tail around the bike.

“Excuse me, ma’am...” he began almost breathlessly.

“Breathe, boy,” she said in Irish, "where are you going in such a hurry?" she squealed, giving a tug on the leash. Bernard plopped down on one leg, watching as the dog sniffed at his heel. “He likes you.”

“I’m going to Cobh, but on my way out of Ballymore...” he pointed back.

“Don’t you worry, follow the path and when you get to the crossroads, always keep the sea on your left.” she said with a smile. Bernard breathed a sigh of relief and, unable to resist, scratched the head of the dog that had sat next to him. He propelled himself with the foot he did have on the pedal and set off.

“Thank you very much! Have a nice day! Bye, Bye!”

They waved to each other as if they were lifelong friends and he left them behind, taking a deep breath.

The instructions could not have been clearer. The exit from the grove greeted him with blinding sunshine illuminating the entire bay, not a cloud in sight, the water of the sea reflecting the sun’s rays on its surface and stretching all the way to the shores of Hadwell and Aghada. He slowed to focus and contemplate the wonderful day that had lingered after the morning clouds. He was stopped on a paved road. To his right, the road climbed slightly and as he turned, the new perspective opened his eyes. He knew exactly where he was! He had just found the usual path, only by a different entrance. He checked his watch and let out a sound like an ‘hm’ as he calculated that he had gained time with his mistake. The day couldn’t get any better: he had learned to mould water, he had taken revenge on old Neill and found a secret shortcut his brothers didn’t know about.

With a smile on his lips, he continued, this time unhurriedly, enjoying the sea air and the vivid colours of the countryside. After a few minutes, he knew he was approaching Cuskinny Beach and thought perhaps he could soak a little, just up to his knees, as he had more time than usual and would not be late home. He would even try to practise what he had learned in the forest to show his mother.

However, his plans took an unexpected turn when, as he faced the whole line of Cuskinny, he saw a girl sitting on the low wall separating the road from the small stretch of land leading to the sea. He slammed on the brakes.

The girl was facing him, sitting cross-legged in a brown dress that lent modesty to the slightly unbecoming posture. She looked Bernard’s age, but he couldn’t see her face. She was far away and also focused on something in front of her. Brown waves fell across her forehead despite her hair being in a braid. He got off the bike with a wrinkle between his eyebrows. This was his special place. No one ever went there, least of all the children, not even his siblings wanted to be there. They said it wasn’t a “real beach” because of the lack of sand. He gripped the handlebars and pulled it to his side with a determined stride as he approached the intruder.

“Hey.” He said in an angry tone, still walking. The girl raised her head and her brown eyes fell into his blue ones. She gave him the brightest smile Bernard had ever seen on anyone, and he stopped.

“Oh, hi.” He barely noticed how sweet her voice sounded, distracted with how she seemed to treat him as if they knew each other. The girl waved and went about her task. That’s when Bernard looked down at the stone wall, where she was working, concentrating on putting mud, pebbles and leaves into a jar. He raised his lip in a grimace of disgust and confusion and left his bicycle leaning against the wall. Remembering why he had stopped, he spoke again.

“You can’t be here. Sorry.” he blurted out firmly, his eyes flicking between her dirty hands and her pink complexion.

The girl stopped what she was doing and raised her head. With a serious look on her face, she replied.

“I can do whatever I want.” She resumed her task as if Bernard were not there.

He was getting impatient. Who did she think she was? She couldn’t come to his beach, to his wall, sit down and pretend she owned it.

“But I come here all the ti... what are you doing?” he asked in exasperation as he saw her cover the vial with her palm and shake it with both hands.

“Potions.” she commented simply. “You can help me if you wish...”

Bernard’s face lit up. A kid around his age and she was already doing potions? That was advanced magic, for grown-ups, you had to go to the Circles of energy and nature first...

He climbed the wall in front of her. All the jars, twigs and stones between them. He noticed she didn’t follow any technique; she just put mud, stones and sand, stirred and added dirty water from the beach.

“That’s not a potion.” Bernard commented, growing increasingly nervous with her behaviour.

“Says who?” She looked at him again, serious, but after a few seconds she shrugged her shoulders. “It’s just a game. But it amuses me to think it’s potions. Then I draw on the rocks, and when it dries, the drawing is stuck.”

Oh.

He was one of those people Da talked about. A person without magic. But, they used to be in the centre of Cobh, the muggles, not on the coast road.

“What are you doing here? I’ve never seen you before.”

She pointed a finger towards the sea, and Bernard followed the direction with his eyes. A red boat floated in the distance, a person seemed to be inside.

“I’ve come with my father. He’s testing a new net.”

“Ah...”

“Are you going to help me or not?”

He looked up again to find her holding out a bottle with brown water and floating seaweed. He accepted it without a word and poured the water into the container she indicated.

“Always put the mud in first because otherwise it’s hard to mix.” To reinforce her point, she raised her arms to show the patches of dried mud all over her skin. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

“Well...”

“It’s okay. I’m Julia! But everyone calls me Julie.” Before she continued her concoction, she corrected, “Except Kira, but because she’s dumb and mean and I don’t want her to call me that.”

He blinked rapidly at all the new information. “I’m Bernard.”

“Hello Bernard! This can be a friendship potion now...”

When confusion and surprise left his body, Bernard reacted in the only way he could think of to what Julie was proposing.

“Alright, but for the potion to work we have to drink it.”

Julie broke into a loud laugh, and Bernard had no choice but to join her. He never thought he was particularly funny and had no intention of doing so at the time, he just wanted her to be disgusted, but once again this girl left him speechless.

“Okay.” she blurted. Bernard’s eyes went wide. “What? You don’t dare?”

“But… well... what if... what if this potion doesn’t work like that?” he managed to dodge what could be something that would make him vomit. “Maybe it’s enough to get on our skin. Like that.” He pointed at her arms. “And when it dries, it means we’re friends.”

“Sounds good to me!” she chirped, following the logic of the plan. “But this potion is missing something... It has to be different from the others.”

They stood in thought, looking at the materials at their disposal and every now and then looking towards the soft waves on the shore. After a while of comfortable silence, Bernard shouted excitedly, making his new friend jump.

“I’ve got it!” He took off his backpack and put it on his lap. He rummaged inside, and held out the tomato, now a little dented.

“Perfect.” she whispered. She took it out of his hands and with one of the twigs she had she poked a hole in it and then squeezed out the juice into the jar. She stirred again and held out her palms as if she were presenting a discovery. “I’ll start!” She dipped two fingers into what was mostly mud and scooped some out. Without giving him time to think, she rubbed them up and down Bernard’s cheek.

“Hey!” He mimicked her with indignation and amusement in equal parts, and rubbed the mud on her cheek, leaving an identical stain.

“There!” she said triumphantly. “When it dries, we’ll become friends. Although...” she trailed off. “I’ve never done this with anyone before, so... I guess we already are.”

After an hour, Bernard went home with a warm feeling in his chest. At first he went slowly, not wanting to leave his new friend on the beach alone, but looking at his watch, he started pedalling as fast as he could, making excuses, knowing what he’d get for being late, practising his best angelic face, and trying not to let his lungs burn from all the effort he was putting in.

He arrived in record time, but when he reached the gate leading to the house, he slammed on the brakes so hard that a high-pitched sound came from the bike.

A group of strangers emerged from the inside of the road. There were four of them and they were all dressed in black, with matching triangle necklaces. The tallest of them noticed Bernard and gave him a macabre, toothy grin. The boy shuddered.

Suddenly, they all disappeared into thin air with a faint ‘puff’. Just then, his father appeared through the gate, striding out with a more serious expression than usual. He saw Bernard and snapped his fingers as he pointed behind him.

“Get in the house. Now.”

Without complaint, Bernard hopped off his bike and walked onto the road, dodging his father’s attempt to wipe the smudge off his face. And as if the rest of the morning hadn’t happened, the day darkened for more reasons than the clouds in the sky.

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#charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfiction #charlie weasley x mc #charlie weasley x ofc #charlie weasley x jacob's sibling #charlie weasley x kate williams #charlie weasley x oc #katherine williams

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