Harry Potter Thestrals

Chapter 1

Charlie was dreaming. It was a regular dream, nothing out of the ordinary for him. There were dragons and lots of lights and of course certain members of his family made appearances. As always, though, it was all very vague and disjointed. That was thanks to the potion Charlie always took before bed, the potion he had been specifically prescribed by the healers at St Mungo's after the war had ended. It kept him from reliving the Final Battle every night in his head. For months after the Battle Charlie had stayed at home because his family had wanted to be together after…well…after Fred….to remember him properly. It had taken a few weeks for him to realize the dreams weren't going to stop, to realize that every time he closed his eyes he was going to see his brother's ashen face and the faces of Tonks and Remus and replay their deaths in his head.

There was nothing he could do about them dying of course, a killing curse couldn't be reversed but Charlie's subconscious had apparently decided without his knowledge that it should have been him and not them. And that made sense of course, because they'd just had a child and deserved to be raising him, and him…he had nothing. All he had were the beasts he cared for and he could live with that. He could live with being a bachelor for the rest of his days. But they should have been able to live with their son, not be stolen from him so quickly. And so Charlie would dream and watch the curses hit them night after night and wake up screaming. He was ashamed that he was falling apart like this. Many people had been screwed up because of the war, why was he the only one going insane over it?

After a few years on the potion the Healer's had contacted him to ask him if he'd like to come back in for observation to see if perhaps he had improved and could cease doses. Charlie didn't want to though. The potion helped him sleep, helped keep him numb during the nights. Besides, even if he didn't have the dreams anymore he was much too anxious about the prospect of maybe having the dreams to be able to sleep on his own anymore. He didn't want to risk it, no it would be better just to take this damn liquid every night than have to deal with the pain and the guilt each night.

On this particular night however Charlie was awoken from his dream be a large thud. Glancing at his window he saw that it was still the middle of the night and apparently it was raining, not something that happened often in Romania. In addition to that it seemed that an owl was trying to force entry into his room by slamming itself repeatedly against the glass. Taking a moment to wake up properly Charlie immediately jumped up and pulled the window open letting the animal in out of the rain. "Sorry, buddy, I was in a REM cycle. My apologies."

The bird merely flapped around on the hardwood for a moment after its entrance and then shook itself as if to say 'No problem' and rid its feathers of most of the rain that soaked it. When it stuck out the foot which had a scroll tethered to it Charlie was surprised to see the Hogwarts seal stamped on the parchment. Kneeling down he untied the scroll and took it over to his bed which he sat on simply staring at the seal for a moment. It was as though he were having déjà vu and receiving his book lists for the next school year. What on earth was Hogwarts sending him now? Perhaps one of Ginny's kids had gotten some award and they wanted him to attend a feast in their honor…But then again Charlie had never heard of uncles being informed of such things.

Finally, he slip a rough, callused finger under the seal and effortlessly let the parchment fall open. As he read he furrowed his brow. Was McGonagall completely daft? What on earth was she thinking? But at the same time he was getting restless here, days were blurring together, even some of his coworkers whom he had worked side by side with for years said he needed to get away. What could it hurt? Setting the letter to the side he walked to his desk, retrieving a blank piece of parchment and a quill to compose a letter.

_Mum, _

_Looks like I'll be coming home for a bit. I should arrive some time next week or sooner…I'll know better once I talk to Frank._

_Love you and Dad too._

_Charlie_

It was childish to tell his parents he loved them at the end of each note he wrote them but if the war had taught him anything it was to not think lightly of telling those you loved that you loved them. It might be the last time. An image of Fred's lifeless face flashed across Charlie's mind and he inhaled sharply, pausing as his hands tied his letter with a spare piece of twine. "Focus, Charlie…Focus on what you're doing right now." It was a game he played with himself, more of an exercise really. It had started as an experiment. Whenever he would be slipping in the beginning he would talk himself out of it, yell at himself, call himself weak. What had worked the best was when he started beating himself up about how Fred wouldn't have wanted it to be like this. How all those who had given up their lives so the rest of them could live safely wouldn't have wanted their lives to fall apart because of it. It was a matter of control and Charlie refused to let himself lose all of this control. There were only so many potions he could take on a daily basis before being required to be a permanent resident of St Mungos.

Taking a deep breath Charlie opened his eyes and relaxed his jaw, finishing the knot around his letter and tethering it to the waiting owl's leg. "I need you to bring this to the Burrow, alright?" It occurred to him that this owl was probably from the castle and it wouldn't quite know where the Burrow was but before he could react to that thought it had hopped up to his desk and taken off out of the window back into the storm. It would find it's way, probably. It never ceased to amaze Charlie how adept those birds were to finding people.

Sighing, he sat back down on his bed, picking up the flask next to his bed that he kept his potion in. Taking a generous swig of it he laid back down and surrendered to his dreams again.

---------- _Six Days Later_

It had been almost too easy to talk Frank into letting him go back to England. Actually, it had almost seemed to Charlie that Frank had been the one who wanted him to. It made him wonder how bad things had actually gotten, how distant he had become in the past few years. He had almost decided not to leave but when Frank said he would always have a job there no matter how long if took for him to come back Charlie thought why not, it might help. Help how he wasn't sure but if things were as bad as they seemed with his coworkers who he saw every day he could only imagine how bad they were with his family.

As Charlie walked up the road towards the looming Burrow with his duffle bag over one shoulder he tried to remember the last time he had been home. It occurred to him that it shouldn't be this hard to remember and that perhaps he had let things get away from him the last couple of years. And then it came to him. When Lily and Hugo turned 11 it had been over the Christmas holiday some six years prior. He'd been home for the first time in five years and he could remember them running around the Burrow waving their Hogwarts letters over their heads and squealing for days.

He remembered that but he couldn't remember speaking to them, couldn't remember if he had even interacted with any of his nieces and nephews at all. Christmas day Molly had insister on throwing a big bash with all of their friends to celebrate everyone being home together. And of course that meant Teddy Lupin. When he walked through the door it was just too much for Charlie. Charlie remembered leaving then but he didn't remember saying good bye to anyone, didn't remember feeling guilty for never apologizing to his mother. He just remembered being numb. What had he let happen to him?

Sighing, Charlie finally reached the path in front of the Burrow, leading to the front door. From here he could hear his mother screeching from within. "Arthur! Arthur!....ARTHUR! HE'S HERE!!!!" And not a moment after she had burst through the door, red hair everywhere and flinging herself at him. It took Charlie a moment to react but when she flung her arms around him and squeezed him so tight he thought he'd explode he held her back. It felt nice, human contact, even if it was just his mum. She'd always been there for him, he knew, and he felt terrible for the way he had treated her in the past few years but he didn't know how to apologize.

When he pulled away from her clutching hands and stood up, he could see that there were tears in her eyes and she looked genuinely elated to see him. It almost broke his heart. Was he that much of a ghost in his family's lives now? But there wasn't much time to think of that because his father stepped out of the house moments later. It never failed to surprise him that even in their old age his parents' hair stayed the brilliant red of the rest of the family. It gave him hope that when he was old his hair wouldn't white. The full head of head on his father also gave him hope he would never need to worry about going bald.

Arthur took a step towards him and extended a hand over his wife's shoulder to grasp Charlie's. "It's good to see you, Son." There were tears in his eyes too and all the emotion he was faced with made Charlie want to cry as well. He wanted to be a child again and just collapse into his mother's arms and bawl until everything was better, until the hole inside of him was filled again, but he wasn't sure that was an option. Besides, he was all cried out. It had been years since his tear ducts had been active and he was almost positive he was incapable of that sort of emotion anymore. Instead he just smiled and held his mother's hand which still clutched to him as though he would disappear.

"It's good to be home." And it was true. He really meant it. At least he thought he did.

Molly sobbed a bit there, bringing his hand to her lips and kissing it before turning her back on him and hustling back towards the house. "You must be starving, I'll fix you something. Arthur!" She yelled as though he weren't standing right next to her. "Show him the room he's staying in."

That took Charlie by surprise. The room he's staying in? Why wouldn't he just stay in his own room? Of course it should have occurred to him that their family had significantly grown since the time he had lived at the Burrow and he couldn't really expect to have his own room anymore that no one else ever used. Never the less, it was a shock to hear.

Arthur winked at him before following Molly back into the house. Charlie walked behind him slowly. When he entered the living room he saw his mother glance out of habit at the clock in the corner and without thinking Charlie's eyes followed her gaze. That blasted clock. He had begged her to get rid of it after the war but she had refused. It had turned into quite the argument actually. After they'd returned home Charlie had realized that Fred's clock hand had come to rest on Home when it should have been on moral peril. It made no sense. Molly had tried to reason that now he was in a better place and that perhaps his heaven was home. That as bullshit though and Charlie didn't spare her any tears in telling her that. Fred was dead and he wasn't coming home, not ever.

Fred's hand didn't rest on home anymore, however, he had won that battle. During one of his more violent nightly episodes (actually the one directly preceding the time his father had made him seek professional help) he had physically ripped it out of the machine with his bare hands. As callused and tough as they were had had been bleeding everywhere but he didn't stop clawing at it till it had come out. After that his father had kicked him out of the house for how upset he made his mum and wouldn't let him come back till he dealt with what was really happening. They'd tried and tried to reattach the hand but it just wouldn't go back on. "It just doesn't make any sense" He remembered hearing his mother sob from outside the window "Hands have broken off _dozens_ of times before and I've _always _been able to put them right…"

Tearing his eyes away from the clock, Charlie made himself follow his father into the kitchen. Pausing there he stopped and took it all in. Not much had changed, it could have been as though he had only left yesterday. Everything was in it's proper place and the only new additions were some pictures on the shelves of various members of his extended family, his siblings families smiling and waving, laughing as though they were having the time of their lives. It made Charlie almost bitter as he looked on. How could they all be happy and adapting when he was hardly living at all?

"Well go on, now, up with you. Put you things away so that you're ready to eat when I'm finished cooking" Molly shooed him up the stairs after his father. They climbed in silence for the first stretch but then Arthur slowed to walk next to Charlie on the narrow staircase.

"Ginny and Harry stay in her old room when they come to visit of course. They try to come at least once a month. When the kids are out of school they'll bring them along but they're getting so old now that they're starting to go away with friends instead." Charlie wondered why his dad was telling him this but then he figured how else would he know? "George and Angelina of course use the twins' old room…." For a moment he wondered what would have happened there if Fred hadn't died, if he'd gone on to get married. Who would have taken the room on visits or would they have continued to share… "Bill and Fleur take his room, and we've moved Ron in to yours. He shares it with Hermione of course." Arthur laughed at his own wit, Charlie's lips curled into a little smirk. As they approached what used to be Ron's room on the top floor.

"And when the kids come with them we put the girls in here. We finally convinced that ghoul he'd be better off somewhere else so now the boys use the attic. It's really rather cozy up there." He pushed open the door of Ron's old room. It was much different than Charlie remembered it. The last time he had been here there had been quidditch posters everywhere, belongings littering the floor. Or was he thinking about when Ron was younger, school aged. He couldn't distinguish it anymore. Regardless, now save for a shelf full of books (a strange site to see at least in his eyes) the room was bare. There were now a few mattresses including one set of bunk beds in the room. That caught him off guard.

Without really thinking about it Charlie asked "How many kids exactly are there these days?"

Out of the corner of his eye he saw his father give him an almost frightened look as though he was just realizing how out of touch his son was. After a moment though he cleared his throat. "Well Bill and Fleur have Victoire, Dominique, and Louis. Percy and Penelope have Molly and Lucy. George and Angelina have Fred and Roxanne. Ginny and Harry have James, Albus and Lily. Ron and Hermione have Hugo and Rose." It was a stab to his gut when he heard the love and pride in his father's voice as he listed off his grandchildren, some of the names ones that Charlie hardly even recognized. "You going to be alright son?" Charlie knew his father meant more than would he be okay if Arthur headed back down stairs but he chose to be oblivious at least for now. There would be time to talk later.

"I'll be fine thanks, I"ll come down in a few minutes once I've changed my clothes and washed up a bit. I know how mom is about being presentable at the table." He offered his father a small, forced smile which the old man returned hesitantly.

"I'm sure she'd be lenient with you if you came down a bit grimy." And with that Arthur turned and left him alone in the room.

Sitting down on one of the single beds, Charlie set his bag down at his feet and held his head in his hand. What had he done to his family. Perhaps it really was good that he had returned home now. Maybe the position he had been offered at Hogwarts wouldn't just be a chance to have a change in his life but perhaps it would allow him to get to know his family which he had obviously neglected for their entire lives. Maybe.


End file.
