"My son, the Hogwarts Champion - what an interesting turn of events."
Charlie could hear the muffled voices of his father and grandfather on the other side of the office door as he approached it. Upon hearing his father's voice, the boy contemplated whether or not he should enter the room, but he eventually came to the conclusion that if he didn't go in, his outburst down in the dungeons would've been for nothing.
So, gathering as much courage as he could muster, he moved forward, knocked twice, and let himself in the room as per usual. The gazes of the two adults in the room fell upon him as he entered to which Charlie simply smiled softly.
"Charles, my boy," Fenwick beamed, "congratulations! You should be incredibly proud!"
"Yeah?" Charlie raised a brow, "And for what? For being chosen to participate in a tournament where there is a good chance I don't make it out alive?"
"Nonsense!" Fenwick dismissed, "It is a great honour to have been chosen for such a tournament! An exception, you are! Your skill was clearly unmatched as the Goblet favoured your name, you truly are my son!"
"Funny how you only see me as your son when it happens to paint you in a good light in the media," Charlie muttered, "I reckon the Daily Prophet is dying to hear what the Minister thinks about his dear son being chosen, am I right?"
Fenwick's beaming expression had now been replaced with his infamous glare.
"Now, you listen to me, Charles," he scolded, "you being chosen for this tournament is a gift! A perfectly executed plan was fulfilled when your name was chosen" - he trailed off for a moment - "Nonetheless, it would be foolish of you not to see this as an opportunity!"
"An opportunity for what? Fame? Money? Any other things I don't need? Regardless, I don't want to win the tournament," Charlie said firmly, "Hell, I don't even want to participate. All this tournament has done is made my life a living hell!"
"How stupid you are, Charles," spat Fenwick harshly, "You don't see it now, but great things are coming! You and Harry Potter were chosen for a reason -"
"That's enough, Fenwick," Albus finally chimed in, "if Charlie wishes to having opposing thoughts on the tournament than you do, so be it. Our main focus should be figuring out who put Harry and Charlie's name in the Goblet in the first place -"
"Waste of time!" Fenwick was quick to dismiss, "What's done is done. Both, Charlie and Harry will compete. What we should be focusing on is what is to come next -"
"Charlie," Dumbledore called, ignoring the Minister completely, "shouldn't you be in class? Why are you here? Did something happen?"
The brown eyed boy sighed, not answering just yet. Instead, he walked towards Fawkes' cage which was illuminated by the incoming sunlight from the window. The bird stood soundly on a perch, his big eyes glittering down upon Charlie as though seeing him different than ever before. Charlie got an indescribable feeling all of a sudden as he approached the cage; it was like he was drawn to it, to Fawkes, in a way that he had never been before.
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