Soul Shivers

Spoilers:Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.
Summary: Far from home, Charlie Weasley gets a letter from home.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, J. K. Rowling’s. Hopefully she won’t mind my visiting the characters from time to time.

A chill spread through his bones as cool damp air spread through the forest after the sun slipped behind the Transylvanian hills. Charlie Weasley stepped away from the exuberant voices of the other reserve workers as they laughed about the day’s activities over tea and coffee. Out of the light, the hurried scrawl of his father’s hand faded into the parchment and he couldn’t quite make out the words any longer.

Dear Charlie-

I write now quickly, as there are many things at hand. Albus Dumbledore has given us all duties and has made many requests of us in the past fortnight and so my time is limited however I feel I must write. Still, as there is a small chance that this owl may be intercepted; I must be brief and more vague than I should like. Your Mother is glaring at me even as I explain this to her and so you know she would have me tell you more, but I dare not risk it.

You will have heard the reports from the tournament, what happened during the last days that Cedric Diggory, the other of the boys representing Hogwarts, has been killed. However, you will not gain from the papers the truth of the story. What we have barely dared to speak of in whispers has occurred, and I dare not say more than that our worst fears have been realized. You are far from home and so this owl will reach you not nearly so quickly as I should like. I can only hope that it will reach you and that my message, as cryptic as it is, will be clear to you.

You may expect correspondence with both further details and instructions shortly. Your Mother and I love you dearly and we both miss you tremendously. Be safe, son. We will see you soon.

Dad

It was his father’s script large and loopy, but more messy than usual, and with a tremble that belied the serious calmness his Father had put upon the note. Charlie took a deep breath, breathing in the scent of pine needles nearby, and he stared into the gathering darkness.

The entire reserve was sat upon a pair of intersecting lines. From above, it was a giant cross, breaking up the endless darkness of the forest with small stone cabins. He was on the western most end of the cross, the sky in front of him a deep purple as the sun sank beneath the trees. He turned eastward, facing the gathering darkness, the turn back towards England, and home, nearly instinctual.

‘Charlie?’ Essylt Wyss stood in the darkness, a glass in her hand, and she stepped forward quickly, a hand reaching up to push a dark strand of hair behind her ears. ‘What are you doing out here?’

Charlie shoved the parchment in his pocket, unwilling and unready to share the information contained within the letter.

‘Parchment from home,’ he said quickly. ‘Was just trying to get away from you noisy lot so I could hear myself think enough to read it.’

Essylt grinned at him, and shook her head back. ‘We’re out of butterbeer,’ she said lightly. ‘The shipment in from Prague didn’t come,’ she added.

‘What a pain,’ Charlie heard himself say although the words sounded empty even to him. If his Father truly meant what Charlie knew his Father meant, then their reserve lacking a few bottles of butterbeer would kill none of them. It was likely even, that in a few weeks if the Daily Prophet began to report what his Father had just owled him that they might not even notice that the shipment hadn’t come.

Without warning, his thoughts shifted. Perhaps the butterbeer had been shipped up into the forest and currently the wizard transporting the supplies was dead somewhere in the darkness of the forest-

‘Charlie?’

Essylt was staring at him as if he had grown one of his brother’s claw earrings and longish red hair.

‘Sorry, what was that?’

‘You are miles away,’ she said softly. ‘What’s wrong? Was it a letter from home?’

Charlie didn’t speak for a moment, and when he did, his words were laced with the tension that he felt. ‘It was,’ he said tersely.

‘Bad news then?’ Essylt’s voice was quiet, but she stepped up closer to him and was eyeing his face.

He looked away from her questioning eyes, his mind racing a million miles a minute. He was miles away from home. If You Know Who had risen-if indeed the first thing that had came to his mind at his Father’s words was true-then his entire family would be in danger. His mother, his father, each one of his brothers and his baby sister-all of them would be in danger. He’d been too young when He Who Must Not Be Named had murdered his uncles. Too young to really remember what his Uncles had been fighting for, but not so young that he’d forgotten the stricken look on his mother’s face, the steely, calm determination of his father’s eyes, and how he and Bill had asked questions of their mother until they’d realized that their questions quite literally made their mother cry and so they had learned to leave Molly alone to her tears.

When he turned back to her face he couldn’t really see her. He could imagine dark brown eyes that were currently not leaving his own, the dark hair that was often pulled back in a plait or a bun, but currently was long around her face, strands tucked behind her ears. The moon was rising over the eastern edge of the forest splashing moonlight across the roofs of the buildings in the reserve. As for Essylt, he could only make out the outline of her cheekbone.

‘You could say that,’ Charlie said, giving her a patented grin. After all they’d been friends since Hogwarts in their own way. She’d moved to the camp only recently, but he’d known her from before.

She looked uncertain. ‘You’re grinning, but I don’t quite think you mean it.’

‘Mostly you’d be right,’ he returned, his hands resting on the fence in front of him and the insincere smile fading from his lips.

‘Anything I can do?’ She offered him the glass and he shook his head, waving his hand for her to finish it off. Perhaps it was silly, but he wanted all of his senses tonight.

There was nothing that she could do, he thought irritably. He was here, in the middle of nowhere. The likelihood of him being harmed by He Who Must Not Be Named was very slim compared to the chances each member of his family and he felt, a chill passing over him that was less from the sudden breeze that rushed through the trees and more because he could not help feeling that one of his siblings wouldn’t make it. Somewhere, someone would die, much as both of his Uncles had done.

He shook his head at Essylt. ‘Stay here and be quiet with me?’ he suggested, turning his head to look at her face.

She hesitated for a moment and Charlie could tell it wasn’t quite what she had in mind, that she’d been hoping to learn what was bothering him, but as it was, until he heard from Dumbledore, Charlie wasn’t certain he should say anything. He’d discover this, he supposed.

‘Right then,’ she said softly, moving up to the fence beside him. ‘Some nights are just soul nights,’ she added and Charlie turned to look at her.

‘Right now I feel a bit as if I’ve got a shiver in mine,’ he said evenly.

‘Then maybe I’ll have to pull out my blanket,’ Essylt said softly. Her own hands went on the fence beside him, her eyes focused on the falling darkness around them.

‘It might be good,’ he said softly and he fell into silence.

The next owl he received might be from his parents or it might be from Dumbledore, he realized. Either would hopefully be able to give him more information and he fell into silence, options running through his mind.

It might have been an hour; it might have been two before the friends moved away from the outlook and back down into the center of the camp. Without a single word Charlie walked Essylt to the girls cabin, waiting for her to enter before he continued on. Inside his own room, he pulled the parchment out again, folding it neatly and sticking it inside his bedside table. It might need to be referred to again, and he needed to know where to find it.

Silence of speech did not indicate silence of thought and it was several hours before his mind quieted enough for his eyes to close and restful sleep to sweep over his body.

By Sabrina