Heedless ↔ Harry Potter

1: The Parting Glass

good night & joy be with you all

::

The Leaky Cauldron was a popular location for anyone remotely close to a magical creature in all of the United Kingdom.

Many hunters found themselves flooding the small pub that was located in Drury Lane, London. It was invisible to muggles, but for a strange reason, muggle hunters could still see it.

The pub, despite ever popular, was filled to the brim with people from the magical community of London.

"TOM, FILL IT UP AGAIN!" a voice cheered, and everyone kept getting more and more drunk, losing sight of each other. All that mattered was that the Dark Lord was gone.

"To Lily and James Potter!" a brunette cheered, raising her glass. Everyone repeated her words and took a swing of whiskey in their memory.  "And to the boy who lived, Harry Potter!"

Charlie looked at the people with cold regard. Celebrating his downfall like that when they knew nothing of what happened. The curious whisper about his downfall was, though a very relieving and joyous, still deluded with uncertainties.

What has Harry Potter, a baby, could have done to bring down the Dark Lord?

Was he dead, or just so weak he had no hope of doing anything ever again? Or perhaps it was a matter of time, and he would regain his power- and the reign of terror would return?

Charlie drank the whiskey slowly, deep in thoughts.

Suddenly, a man sat beside her. He didn't look as joyous as the rest did, he even looked pretty broken. His black hair was like a veil between them, and his dark eyes were empty as they stared at the wooden surface of the table that stood by them. He had fire whiskey in his glass, and his skin had a certain yellow tone to it.

"I'm Charlie," she introduced herself to him, and he took comfort in the look on her face. She, as well, was not celebrating.

"Severus."

::

Gordon Lightfoot's voice filled the car when Charlie jolted awake. She rubbed her eyes, straightening up in the front seat. She blinked away the confusion, quickly trying to understand where she was.

These days, England was dangerous again.

The Dark Lord has returned, years after his demise. Critters were back to roam the night, and there were more deaths than ever. Of course, the wizards of the United Kingdom were as unaware as ever.

Mocking the Boy who Lived and Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of the greatest Wizarding School, they waved off the looming darkness.

Heedless.

Charlie rubbed her eyes, starting the engine again, silence filling the car for a moment. The music softly continued a moment after the roar of the engine, and she shifted the gear, starting to drive towards nowhere, really.

Her bright eyes simply stared at the road, unblinking. She felt so empty she had to stop the car. The streets of London were vacant of people, before, out of nowhere, a man appeared under the street lamp.

Charlie grabbed her knife. 

Wizard.

Bad or good, that was yet unknown.

"Hey," she rolled down the window. "You!" He jumped in fear, obviously not thinking anyone would see him. His hand went towards the wand, and she stopped him. "Hey, don't you dare Avada Kedavra my ass, or Oblivate me. I will not hesitate to throw the knife, and I aim damn good."

"Bloody hell, alright, you're a damn witch alright."

"Ain't," she mumbled. "Whose side are you on?"

"Huh?"

"The Dark Arse, or what's'-his-name?" 

"Huh?" He repeated, confused at the latter. He pulled at his red ponytail, anxious.

"Oh, c'mon," Charlie dug through the mess on the dashboard. "Ah, Dumbledore."

"Oh. Dumbledore's," he proudly said with a smile. "I'm William Weasley, glad to make your acquaintance. You?"

"Charlie," she said simply. "Weasley. Heard that one before," musing to herself, Charlie dug through her memory. She shrugged it off, simply watching him again. His puffed out chest flattened a bit, and he seemed sheepish. 

"So, you a witch?"

"No." She cut sharply, still playing with the knife. "Mind if we get moving though? Either go each his way or you get in and we get the hell away. The Dark Arse's followers might still be around here, waiting for any idiot that roams around."

"Er, okay," he slid into the car's backseat. "So what are you?" He wondered as he slammed the car door shut. "A squib?"

"A muggle, thank you very much. A muggle Hunter, if we're being frank."

Bill wanted to joke about her being Charlie, not Frank, but the woman didn't seem to appreciate humor.

"Oh, that's..." he hesitated, not sure if the word Nice would fit the situation.

"Violent? Depressing? Dangerous? Lonely? A suicide put on hold? Quite--"

"I was gonna say nice, but obviously it is not the case," Bill muttered. "So what are you curretly doing?"

"Trying not to murder a certain red haired wizard in my backseat," she muttered as she started driving towards the Leaky Cauldron, looking to seek shelter for the night.

"Mhm. Where are we going...?"

"Leaky Cauldron. Quite tired."

"Errm," Bill made an attempt to read through the mind of the Hunter, and she just kept driving quietly. "I have a bright idea." He finally said, "I'll give you directions. Let's drive."

::

Charlie found herself in front of a mismatched bunch. It was a group of ten, ranging in their ages between 15 and, well, she had to say around fifty. They quickly introduced themselves, the young one was Harry Potter, and she barely remembered what they said before, but simply nodded and took the paper that had a strange writing about Headquarters of an Order.

In front of her, squeezed a house.

The world seemed faded, and Bill caught her just before her head hit the ground.

"Uh? Is she okay?" Remus Lupin asked, worry lines and scars etched to his face.

"She's a hunter. They've got strong heart," gruffed Alastor Moody.

"Meh, she's fine," Bill shrugged as he picked her up. "Let's just roll."