Lyra || Charlie Weasley ||

That was the best part of my day so far. Charlie's POV

Charlie's POV

The more time I spend with Lyra, the more I want to be around her. But after the First Task, I had to return to Romania. I still remember how crestfallen she looked when Ron told her I was leaving. Merlin, I wanted to stay just to keep that sadness from her eyes. But of course, I couldn't.

So here I am, unable to sleep yet another night, thoughts consumed by her. We exchange letters weekly. She told me about the Yule Ball at Hogwarts, and Just envisioning her gliding across the dancefloor on some undeserving boy's arm made my blood boil. The rational part of me understood I had no legitimate claim on her. But since when have feelings ever followed rules of logic? I was jealous, I know it's absurd, but reason flies out the window where she's concerned.

Today, though, I received a letter that made my stomach drop. Dumbledore wrote, inviting me to join the Order of the Phoenix and return to London. I agreed without hesitation. Tomorrow I'll arrive at Order headquarters, though I haven't told Lyra yet. It'll be fun to surprise her and see her reaction. She has the best responses to everything.

I imagine walking into the room and her eyes lighting up, lips stretching into that radiant smile. She'd probably run and throw her arms around me in an enthusiastic hug like she always does. Maybe she'd take my hand and excitedly give me a tour of the place, green eyes sparkling as she chatters on. I'd just watch her, unable to keep the goofy grin off my face. Merlin, I've missed that melodic voice of hers.

We'd stay up late talking by the fire, her leaning into my side, head on my shoulder. I'd tell her stories about the dragons and she'd fill me in on everything I've missed at Hogwarts. It would feel so easy, so natural, being with her again.

I know I shouldn't get my hopes up. She probably won't react that way. I'm just her friend's older brother, nothing more. But I can't help daydreaming about seeing her smile, hearing her laugh. My heart lifts just picturing it.

One more day and I'll be back in the same country as her at least. It's pathetic how much that simple fact thrills me. I'm acting like a smitten teenager, not a grown man. But when it comes to Lyra, reason and logic don't seem to apply.

I arrived at the Order of the Phoenix's current headquarters, a decrepit old home at 12 Grimmauld Place belonging to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. Inside, I found Mum fussing over the dusty curtains while Dad examined the family tapestry with interest and Bill helped reinforce the protective enchantments. Mad-Eye Moody stumped around, his magical eye whizzing, barking security questions at anyone unwary enough to catch his attention. Mrs. Black's portrait was in fine form as well, spewing shrill insults that echoed horribly in the cavernous entry hall.

I was introduced to Lyra's uncle Sirius Black, the wrongly-imprisoned Azkaban escapee who was permitting the Order to use his childhood home as our base. Sirius greeted me with hearty humor, though grief and anger smoldered in his sunken eyes after so many years stolen by Dementors. I couldn't help but wonder if his young niece shared similar shadows.

My younger siblings - including Ron, Ginny, and the infamous Weasley twins - and Lyra were still away at Hogwarts and wouldn't return until nightfall. I claimed a musty bedroom on the third floor under a permanent sticking charm holding moth-eaten velvet curtains in place. Dropping my rucksack on the carved oak four-poster, I glanced around at the ominous serpent motifs and knife-slashed portraits left from Sirius's youth. Heavy tapestries choked off most light or fresh air. Lovely...

Come late afternoon, I sat in on my first Order meeting around the basement kitchen's long table. Moody updated us on the Ministry's increasing corruption and paranoia while Dumbledore warned that Voldemort had ways to circumvent their security forces entirely. As I listened to tales of innocents going missing and unexplained attacks.