The Girl Who Saw Tomorrow III » Harry Potter

3.11 | To Deal with Death

Charlie Weasley had no reason to be in France.

Ever since Charlie had visited the Valley of Return, something about the place had left him enchanted. He thought it must have been the number of magical creatures that seemed to be hiding just out of sight in the beautiful Broceliande forest or the mist that seemed to cover the undergrowth right around sundown each day.

The night before, Charlie had decided to camp at the base of the mountain near a beautiful lake called the Fairies' Mirror. True to its name, the surface of the water was so white and still that the reflection of starlight twinkled prettily in it.

As the clear skies turned a shade of twilit blue, Charlie packed up his tent, hoping to trek up to the top of the mountain to watch the sunrise.

Just as he was ready to leave the campsite, a swish sounded behind him.

Charlie swung his duffle bag on his shoulders as a rather unpleasant croaking tore through the air. He shook his head at the dark bird, before doing a double-take over his shoulder. His mouth fell open.

Ravens did not tend to glow bright red, did they?

Under its glow was a figure lying on the edge of the lake, one which had not been there a moment ago.

Charlie lit his wand, approaching the unmoving figure cautiously, worried that the distressed glowing bird might attack him.

On the contrary, when the raven saw him approaching, its croaks slowed down.

"I'm just trying to help," says Charlie carefully. The raven quietened as though understanding his words, flapping its wings and hovering above the figure.

The light of Charlie's wand fell on the bloodied face and he gasped.

"Margie?! Holy shit-" He scrambled forward, no longer caring about the raven as he fell to his knees next to her.

It was horrible. Being covered in blood was only the beginning of the problem because she was not breathing.

"Rennervate... Rennervate. Dammit, Margie, wake up! RENNERVATE!"

Margaret gasped and cried out in pain.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," whispers Charlie quickly, holding onto her uninjured arm. "I had to wake you up - hang on, all right? Stay with me-"

This was not the first time he had found her lying drenched on the ground. It was very reminiscent of their first-ever meeting a year ago. Charlie felt a bittersweet sense of déjà vu as he looked down at her form, his wand trembling in his hand. This time, however, she was terribly wounded.

As Margaret's cries began to quieten again, Charlie began to panic - he did not know where France's version of St. Mungo's was - but he knew there was an apothecary in the village that might be able to help-

A bright light gleaming in his peripheral caught his attention:

The surface of the Fairies' Mirror was glimmering with an unearthly white glow. Ripples were created suddenly in the very centre, spreading outwards towards them.

Caught off-guard, Charlie's eyes fell on where the water touched Margaret's limp hand on the shore. The luminescent water was spreading outwards, disappearing under her back and appearing by Charlie's knee.

The lake began to expand inexplicably, its glow so bright that it dimmed the Lumos spell in comparison. It lit up the treeline around the banks where the trees came alive suddenly, drifting higher and higher until a canopy of leaves and branches covered the Fairies' Mirror.