I do not own Harry Potter. Charlotte Potter is my OC.

Here we are, the sixth installment of the Chosen Girl series. Not going to lie, this book is my least favourite, so let's see what happens.

Of Dursleys and Dumbledore

The tawny owl sat on the edge of the windowsill, ruffling its feathers as it waited patiently. A white cat stretched out on the end of the bed, eyeing the bird closely.

Charlotte Potter read the short letter that had been delivered to her, hardy daring to believe her good fortune. It was a message from Dumbledore, informing her that he would come to pick her up in three days' time to take her to The Burrow, where one of her best friends lived with his large family, if she was willing. She quickly scribbled an answer at the bottom of the parchment and handed it back to the owl, where it spread its wings and flew off to deliver it.

"Well," she said aloud, reaching over to pull down her bedroom window, preventing the air-conditioning from escaping into the humid summer evening. "That didn't take long at all."

Charlie expected that she would spend some of her summer vacation at the Weasleys, but not so soon, considering they were a little over two weeks into the holidays. She wondered briefly about the other bit of information Dumbledore had included in his letter, requesting her assistance with an errand, but didn't dwell too much on it. She would find out in three days and now she had more pressing matters to attend to.

As in informing her magic-hating relatives that once again there would be a wizard appearing at their home.

Running her fingers through her tangled raven hair, Charlie heaved out a sigh of dread and ventured out of her room. She skipped down the stairs and glanced into the living room, where she was not surprised to see her uncle and cousin parked in front of the television. She could hear her aunt bustling around in the kitchen, no doubt scrubbing the countertops until they gleamed.

"Um, Uncle Vernon—"

"What are you standing there for?" he barked, predictably cutting her off before she finished her sentence. "Go help your aunt in the kitchen! She shouldn't be cleaning up your mess, ungrateful girl."

With a serenity and patience mastered after sixteen years of living under Dursley rule, Charlie merely nodded and walked into the kitchen. Petunia eyed her beadily when she entered, mouth twisting into a sharp frown.

"I don't want see a single speck of dirt," she ordered, thrusting over her rubber gloves and cleaning supplies.

"I know." Charlie snapped on the gloves and took over the chore of washing the food-encrusted dishes. "Everything must sparkle."

"Don't get smart with me. It's about time you helped out around here."

Charlie did not offer a rebuttal, for while she had done more than her fair share of work over the years, she had been spending most of her time in her room this particular summer. "I know," she repeated. "Er, Aunt Petunia…"

The woman paused near the kitchen entryway. "What?" she asked without turning her head.

Her tone of voice was suspicious, as though she knew she was about to hear something she would not like. There were many unflattering words to describe her aunt, but Charlie would never call her stupid. She knew much more than she let on.

"I received a letter a few minutes ago. Professor Dumbledore said he was going to come around in three days, at eleven at night."

She didn't bother asking if Petunia remembered who Dumbledore was—considering the man was the one who delivered her to Number Four Privet Drive when she was a baby, she didn't think she would forget him anytime soon. Judging by the way her aunt's face rapidly paled, she knew she was right.

"He's coming here?" she hissed furiously. "What for?"

"He's going to bring me to The Burrow, where my friend lives. I'm going to spend the rest of my summer there."

Petunia's face gained a tiny bit of colour, the prospect of having Charlie out of house much sooner than expected minutely easing the blow of the unwanted news of yet another magical visitor. For most of the year the Dursleys could pretend they were a normal family, and the longer they could stretch that façade out the better.

"Why does he have to come here?" she asked sharply. "Why can't you meet him somewhere?"

Charlie shrugged. "I'm not really supposed to leave the house."

She didn't give a reason why, but Petunia understood, and the atmosphere morphed into a tense silence. Petunia knew of Voldemort, and while she didn't know all the details, she comprehended the danger Voldemort presented and that was more than enough.

"I don't like riff-raff thinking they can intrude on my house whenever they feel like it," Petunia said with a scowl. "This is all your fault."

"Yeah. Sorry. I don't think he'll stay long. I don't really have a way to tell him he can't drop by."

Charlie didn't bother to mention that she had a choice in the matter and that she didn't have to go to the Weasleys. But she figured that despite the increase in magical people trespassing into their home, the Dursleys would suffer through if it meant she would be out of their sight earlier than anticipated. She also didn't bother to mention that she could mentally contact Harry Lupin to send word of declination, her twin brother with which she shared a telepathic connection. It would require too much explanation and she decided that it would be best for everyone if her relatives never learned of a second Potter child.

"Do you want me to tell Uncle Vernon?"

"No," said Petunia immediately. "I'll do it."

She swept out of the kitchen and Charlie continued cleaning, awaiting the outburst. It was barely two minutes later when her uncle barrelled into the space, purple-faced and shouting, while Dudley watched from the doorway. Charlie endured the screams and insults and eventually Vernon blustered himself out. Grumbling under his breath, he stormed back into the living room, because Charlie suspected that deep down, he knew there was nothing he could do about it.

A couple hours later she finished cleaning, the entire kitchen glittering. She brought a tray of tea and small cakes into the living room and set it quietly on the coffee table in front of her relatives before retreating upstairs. She felt the hostility decrease into simmering anger, and she figured she appeased them somewhat.

She hadn't spent over a decade under their roof without learning some tricks.

…

On the evening of Dumbledore's arrival, Charlie sat in her wooden chair next to the window. She was currently reading the Daily Prophet, having finished the Muggle newspaper and leaving it to sit on her desk. She flicked her gaze from the article to the darkening sky through the glass pane. Though she felt some excitement over her soon-to-be freedom, it was dampened by the news she was reading.

The Brockdale bridge collapsing, the sudden hurricane tearing through West Country. The bridge was under investigation to see if there was a failure in parts, but Charlie knew. A whole bridge in good shape did not just crumble by itself, and the thick mist that appeared during the hurricane was not natural. Charlie grit her teeth together, fingers digging into the paper. Now that Voldemort had been exposed, he wasn't trying to be discreet any longer. He was on a rampage and not even the Muggle world was safe.

She thrust the Daily Prophet aside and let her head fall back, eyes closing. Amelia Bones, who had supported her when Fudge tried to expel her from Hogwarts last year, had been killed. So had Emmeline Vance, who had been a member of the Order and helped her get out of Privet Drive last year. Cornelius Fudge had been fired from his position and Rufus Scrimgeour had taken his place.

Despite not telling anyone about her exploits at the Ministry of Magic more than a month ago, the news had broken out, though she was not surprised. Over a dozen Aurors had seen her and Voldemort, and though no one knew the whole story, people had liberty to make their own connections. A reporter caught wind of the Hall of Prophecy and though no Ministry worker confirmed its existence, people were beginning to believe that it was a sign. She had been promoted from the Girl-Who-Lived to the Chosen One.

It left an uncomfortable feeling in her gut.

Included with the Daily Prophet was a pamphlet on practices to protecting against the Dark forces. Charlie skimmed over it and was disappointed when she found it not very helpful. But she supposed she shouldn't be so critical. There was only so much you could do against the most powerful wizard in existence.

'Everything okay?'

Harry's voice cut through her brooding and she startled slightly. 'Geez. I wish there was a warning to know when you're going to talk to me.'

'I figured you'd still be up. You're pretty miserable for someone who is about to come party at The Burrow.'

'Sorry. Didn't mean to spread my dark mood. I was reading the newspaper.'

'It's not looking so good. But there's nothing you can do about it.'

'That's what makes it ten times worse. I'm helpless. Voldemort is out there and I'll be going back to school soon enough. It doesn't seem right.'

'Newspapers like the drama. You don't have to take the Chosen One stuff seriously.'

'You know the prophecy. It's me. There's no one else.'

'Worrying about it now isn't going to help. I'm sure you'll know when the time is right. The fact that you so badly want to go against Voldemort as soon as possible is so brave.'

'But charging into battle without a plan is as good as a death wish. I know, I know.' Charlie gave her head a slight shake. 'I think too much, but hey, I'm a Ravenclaw. I am happy to get to see you and the others. Have I missed anything?'

'Not really. Everyone's really anxious to see you, though. Dobby is practically dancing around the place.'

The streetlight in front of the Dursley household suddenly went out, plunging the area into pure darkness. Charlie got out of her chair grabbed hold of her cat carrier. 'Professor Dumbledore is here. I'll see you shortly.'

'See you!'

Charlie jogged down the stairs. Vernon had given her permission to liberate her trunk from the cupboard under the stairs, and it was waiting by the door, along with her broomstick. Charlie set the cat carrier on top of the trunk just as the doorbell rang. She quickly answered it.

"Hello, Charlotte," Dumbledore greeted pleasantly. A quick once-over reassured the man that she was fine. "I expect you have told your relatives of my arrival?"

"Yeah. They're in the living room."

"Wonderful. Let us join them."

Eyes widening a fraction, Charlie stepped aside to let Dumbledore in. "Um…" She eyed him hesitantly, from his black cloak and pointed hat to his impressive silver beard. She knew full well the Dursleys would not appreciate Dumbledore staying for a chat, but she also knew that Dumbledore was well aware of this. "Okay."

She let Dumbledore go first and flinched at the choked splutter of her uncle at his appearance. She hastily moved to stand beside her Headmaster, eyeing her shocked relatives warily. "Hello," said Dumbledore with a nod. "I am Albus Dumbledore, as I am sure Charlotte has told you."

"She said you were taking her and that was that," said Vernon bluntly, face turning red.

"I shall, but there are some matters we must discuss first." Dumbledore looked to see Petunia appearing in the kitchen entryway, lips in a thin line. "Ah, and you must be Petunia."

Considering that Dumbledore sent her an exploding letter a year ago, Charlie was not surprised her aunt was not happy to see him. Vernon stood stiffly in the middle of the living room, Petunia going by his side. Dudley, dressed in his pajamas, eyed Dumbledore with a gaping mouth and scuttled around him to join his parents.

"I will pretend that you have invited me to sit," said Dumbledore, not fazed by their rudeness. He took a seat in the armchair by the fireplace and gave his wand a flick, sending the sofa flying and knocking into the Dursleys, sending them falling back into the cushions. "No reason to stand there uncomfortably."

Biting her lip in an attempt not to laugh at the stunned expressions on their faces, Charlie went to stand behind them, in case she had to curb any unpleasant behaviour. She glanced at Dumbledore and noticed that his right hand was blackened and shrivelled and her heart stuttered in her chest.

"Since it would be foolish of me to assume you will offer refreshments, I shall be more than happy to do so." With another flick of his wand a bottle of mead and several glasses appeared. Charlie caught the glass that zoomed towards her. The Dursleys sat in terror, ignoring the glasses that were knocking against the sides of their heads.

"The Order of the Phoenix has come across a problem that we hope you can solve, Charlotte. But before we get into that, I must tell you that we discovered Sirius' will a week ago. Thanks to his distrust of Ministry officials because of his false imprisonment, he chose to do it without the proper legal channels, which leaves us without dealing with the troublesome Ministry interference. He left everything to you."

Charlie barely noticed Vernon perk up at that, her stomach dipping at the mention of her deceased godfather. "Okay," she muttered, uncertain of what to say.

"Her godfather's dead?" her uncle demanded.

It occurred to Charlie that she had not informed her relatives of her godfather's death, but she had not thought that they needed to know. Dumbledore saved her from answering by saying, "Yes." That was all he said about the matter and continued, "Sirius left you his savings, which has already been transferred to your account, and all of his possessions. The problem we have faced is that he left you Grimmauld Place."

"She has a house?" asked Vernon, eyes glinting greedily.

"You can have it, if you want," Charlie directed at Dumbledore. "It can still be Headquarters. I don't really want it anyway."

Being granted a house to live in by herself was something out of her dreams, and if the circumstances had been different, she would have been elated. But she couldn't stand the thought of living in those rooms, walking the corridors, knowing that Sirius should have been with her. She'd rather live with the Dursleys than have to face those darkened halls alone.

"I am grateful for that, but currently we have vacated the premises."

"What's wrong?" asked Charlie, exasperation growing at her relatives' persistence and the glasses smacking into their heads. She nimbly reached out and collected the drinks, moving to set them on the top of the mantle.

"The house has belonged to generations of Blacks. We cannot be certain if there have been enchantments placed to prevent an outsider from gaining ownership. If that is the case, the house will go to the last of Sirius' living relatives, Bellatrix Lestrange."

Charlie's blood ran cold. While she didn't want the house, there was no way she was going to let his killer inherit it. "How are we supposed to tell if it's mine or not?"

"Easily. If you have inherited the house, then you have also inherited Kreacher."

With another flick of his wand a creature appeared, with reddened eyes and ears akin to a bat. At the sight of Charlie, Kreacher threw himself to the floor and started shouting, "Kreacher won't do it! Kreacher only serves the noble Blacks! Kreacher won't serve a filthy half-blood!"

As he pounded his fists against the carpet, the Dursleys recoiled in horror. "What is it?" shrieked Petunia.

"It's okay!" said Charlie, speaking loudly over Kreacher's cries. "It's just a house-elf."

"A what?"

"Never mind, just ignore him." Charlie turned back to Kreacher with some resentment. It was because of his lies that she rushed off to the Ministry in the first place, and why Sirius came after her. But she knew that giving to Kreacher to Bellatrix was a disastrous move. "What do I have to do?" she asked hesitantly.

"If you give him an order and he obeys the problem is solved. But if not, we are going to have to figure out another means of keeping Kreacher away from his mistress."

A particular loud scream from Kreacher caused Charlie to flinch. "Kreacher, please, be quiet!"

Kreacher jolted, his hands flying to his throat. He choked for a moment, unable to make a sound, and he flattened to the floor, angry tears in his eyes. Dumbledore beamed. "Well now, that's all we needed to know. Grimmauld Place and Kreacher are yours."

Charlie eyed the house-elf, feeling a sudden stab of pity. Being angry at him would not fix anything. He was who he was because of the behaviour and treatment of the wizards he served. Sirius had mistreated him, and though Charlie did not fault him for it, she knew it wasn't right. Maybe she could fix the damage generations of Blacks had caused.

"Does he have to stay there alone?" she asked. "Dobby works in the kitchen when I'm at school. Maybe he could help out too."

Dumbledore gave an approving nod. "That's a lovely idea."

"Kreacher, I would like you to work in the Hogwarts kitchen," she said gently. "Dobby will help you if you need it."

With a glower of hatred, Kreacher obeyed. With that taken care of, Dumbledore glanced at Charlie and said, "I believe you are all packed, yes?"

"Yes sir."

"Then in a moment, we shall be off." Facing the Dursleys, he continued, "In a year, Charlotte will come of age."

"No, she won't," spoke Petunia, causing Charlie to blink in surprise. "She's a month younger than Dudley. She won't turn eighteen for another two years."

"That is true. However, in the wizarding world, children become adults at the age of seventeen," informed Dumbledore. "As I am sure Charlotte has told you, Lord Voldemort has returned. The magical world is at war. Voldemort's prime target is Charlotte, who he has tried to kill on many occasions. She is in great danger. More so than she was when I left her on your doorstep all those years ago. I had hoped that you would raise Charlotte as part of your family."

The air in the room chilled by several degrees, though Dumbledore's expression remained calm. "You have ignored her, mistreated her, starved her and forced her to do more labour than any child should. My only consolation for leaving her with you is that she did not turn out to be like her unfortunate cousin."

"What do you mean by that?" blustered Vernon.

"Your home has been protected by magic I evoked fifteen years ago," continued Dumbledore, speaking as if Vernon had not said anything. "Despite the misery and loneliness you put Charlotte through, she calls this place home, because she understands the risks you took by taking her in, however grudgingly. When given the chance to live with her godfather, she turned it down, determined to return to this place and ensure you would be protected. When she turns seventeen, the magic will expire. I ask that you allow her to return for a period of time next summer, before her birthday, so that the magic will continue until the time is up."

There was a period of silence. Vernon glared at the floor, seeming as if he was no longer able to speak. Petunia's cheeks were flushed, a small frown on her features. Dudley was looking between his parents, brow furrowed in confusion.

"It is time for us to be off." Dumbledore stood, smoothing out his cloak. "Until next time."

He swept out of the room and Charlie followed after him, lingering in the doorway for a moment. "I'll see you next summer," she said, waving a hand in farewell. "Like Professor Dumbledore said, the magic will protect you. I've been here long enough to keep it going. You'll be safe. Um, so, see you later."

She hurried into the entrance hall and stood next to Dumbledore. "I will send these to The Burrow to await your arrival," he said. "But first, it would be best if you remove your Invisibility Cloak."

Charlie complied and her stuff was sent away. Dumbledore opened the front door, leading her into the dark night, and said, "Let us go, Charlotte, and see what waits for us."