"On any other day, Malfoy," she started with narrowed eyes. "I would have already punched you and walked away by now- but I've got to say, I'm actually quite intrigued..."
In which, Charlotte Potter wants what she can't have.
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The trio stepped out into the dark night, ambling out of the house, and Charlotte made sure to walk across the Dursley's immaculate front lawn whilst Harry and Dumbledore stayed on the pavement. She hoped her shoes had left foot prints on the grass, and mused that she would have trampled all over her Aunt Petunia's flowers beds, had she not liked flowers so much.
The rows of houses in Privet Drive looked like a scene from a utopian film. Each house was in immaculate condition, with a front garden overflowing with colourful flowers and untarnished grass, and plants that were grown solely to earn a place in a competition, but inside lived the dullest people you would ever meet in your life. Though Charlotte knew that all that glittered wasn't gold, and her ostentatious neighbours certainly proved it.
She walked along the side of the road, a few steps behind Harry and Dumbledore who she could hear speaking.
Despite it being a summer's night, the air was surprisingly cold and Charlotte shivered as a breeze swept past her, making the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She had of course left the Dursley's house whilst she had been there, but she hadn't been out too late, and the dark sky and cold atmosphere were only reminding her of that fateful night in the Department of Mysteries, the night Sirius had died and the night everything changed for the Wizarding world.
She hated to think what sort of catastrophes the Ministry were caught up in. "Sir," she called as she hurried to get closer to the two. "What happened to Fudge?"
"I'm afraid that Cornelius has been dismissed from his position of Minister for Magic. He has been succeeded by Rufus Scrimgeour, the former Head of the Auror Office," Dumbledore answered. "I thought you would have been aware in the change at the Ministry, Charlotte. Have you not been reading the papers?"
"I don't like to read the Prophet too often, Sir," she replied as they came to a stop at the end of Privet Drive. "I believe it provides its readers with too much propaganda for my liking."
He smiled in amusement at her words, "Of course. Now, I merely ask that you keep your wand's at the ready, in case of an attack. Neither of you have passed your Appiration test, of course?"
"No," Harry answered as Charlotte shook her head. "I thought you had to be seventeen?"
"You do, so you will need to hold onto my arm." Dumbledore offered Harry his left arm and lifted his right arm for Charlotte, the arm with the withered hand. "I must ask, Charlotte, that you be ever so gentle whilst holding on. You can, of course, see that my right hand is no longer intact."
She eyed his blackened hand gingerly as she moved to grip his upper arm, "What happened to it?"
"The tale is thrilling, if I say so myself, but now is not the time to tell it. Please, take my arm."
She gently clutched just above his elbow, still inspecting his tainted hand, "It looks like dark magic, Sir."
"You wouldn't be wrong, Charlotte." He said simply. "Right, off we go."
