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CHARLOTTE JULIET ANDREWS WAS NEVER A MORNING PERSON.During the summer, she would wake up when the moon rises. She stays up all night, reading and studying to keep her entertained.
Sure, Charlotte had her friends – the only problem is that she lives about forty-seven miles away from them and her only source of communication was through letters that were delivered by her tiny owl friend, Aquila.
Her father was away for some Auror business in America for Merlin knows what – and from what her father told her; her mother had died long ago from giving birth to her. She was used to being alone already. Even though her father was always away – they were still close and always find time for them to bond with each other in their own little odd ways.
Days ago, Charlotte received a letter from Molly Weasley – the mother of one of her best mates, Ron Weasley – inviting her to watch the Quidditch World Cup with them this Monday and offered for her to stay with them for the remainder of the summer.
And of course, Charlotte wholeheartedly accepted the kind offer – with the approval of her father of course.
And just a day ago, Mr. Weasley, Fred, George, and Ron came to pick her up through Floo network.
She was now at the Burrow – awake at the ungodly hour of three in the morning, all sweaty in her nightgown with tears running down her cheeks and bed hair with the concerned gazes of the whole Weasley clan piercing her.
She doesn't understand what was happening to her.
All Charlotte knew is that it has something to do with the odd dreams she's been getting after the day she woke up in St. Mungo's.
Molly Weasley was comforting the hysterically crying girl, whispering comforting things to her ear while brushing her fingers through her honey blonde locks. Ginny Weasley was rubbing her hand on her shoulder comfortingly. The other Weasley's just watched silently – no one dared to say a word.
"I'm sorry for waking you all up."
Charlotte felt ashamed. . . embarrassed even.
Here she was, crying over some nightmare that was stuck to her mind.
The nightmare felt so, so real.
She felt the touch of the faun still lingering in her forearm. The screams of terror echoed into her brain. She felt the dust of the rubble in her throat.
There was no denying that it was real.
All of it was real.
Ginny gave her a soft smile and gave her a warm hug, "It's alright."
Charlotte gave her a weak smile, wrapping her arms around the younger's torso. She shut her eyes off and saw flashes of the Dryads begging for their lives to be spared, only to be slashed in the chest by a metal blade that held the blood of a thousand innocent creatures who did nothing to deserve it.
