So my laptop is broken, but has half a chapter of my in-progress DW story on it, so I figured, why not start a crossover while I wait. Anyway, as for this story, you all know that this had to be written about. Actually, I'm not sure if it already has been, and if so, sorry. But here it is. Enjoy!

Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock

Why Charlie Weasley Isn't in the Movies

"Arthur, what are we going to do?" Molly Weasley wailed, rocking back and forth with the force of her sobs as she sat on their bed. Arthur looked on in dismay, feeling helpless. And yet he'd known this day was coming for some time now.

He loved being a husband and a father. He loved his wife and children. Each of them was unique and different in their own way, and he loved each of them for it.

But one of his children was just a little too different from the others.

It had started small. While Bill had been levitating the cookie jar down from the top shelf practically since he could eat them, his brother—younger by a single year—calmly played with blocks or figurines. And when Percy wanted to read past his bedtime without his mother knowing, he could light and put out a candle without even getting out of bed. His older brother instead went to bed when he was told, and woke up early to play outside if he wanted. He'd tried not to notice, but now even the twins—infants!—could unlock their playpen to explore if they so chose.

Something was wrong with Charlie's magic.

It wasn't even that his second son was bad at underage magic. He just didn't seem to bother with it at all. Once, the boy had discovered a bird with a broken wing and he'd gently carried it back to the Burrow. Molly had been all set to heal it, but Charlie had raised up a hand to stop her.

"Don't, mum! He's scared and hurt. If you fix it now, he won't understand." So a bewildered Molly had sat by and watched as her five year-old had set about putting the bird's little wing into a splint and making a bed for it in an old shoebox.

That had convinced him more than anything; Charlie was a Squib. Getting Molly to admit it was proving much harder.

"My poor baby!" His wife cried as though talking about a dead child, at last snapping him from his reflections. Arthur sat beside her and wrapped his arms around her, stroking her hair.

"There now, Molly-wobbles, it's alright."

"But—a Squib, Arthur!"

"He's still Charlie," was all he said in reply. Arthur was very adamant about that. Regardless of magical ability, Charlie was still their son. His reminder seemed to calm her somewhat, for she took a shuddering breath and wiped at her eyes.

"Oh, I know, Arthur. I'm just…afraid." And he couldn't deny the identical shivers that went through them.

Charlie being a Squib wasn't a problem—or rather, it wouldn't be if not for the war.

His stance on Muggles and Muggle-borns already made the name 'Weasley' mud amongst the Death Eaters. But if word reached them that they had a Squib son, that would put them all in danger. Still, he refused to just give in to the fear. He was not a coward. Molly's twin brothers had already sacrificed their lives for the cause. The least he could do was keep his son safe.

"We can't let anyone find out. No one except those we absolutely trust."

"But how? M-Mrs. Wood's already b-been asking if the boys want to c-c-come over, and she's n-not the only one. The only reason it h-hasn't been so much is because everyone's scared! And w-what happens when he d-d-doesn't get his H-Hogwarts' letter?" These were all logical points and he thought long and hard about them, remaining silent for some time.

"Well, we'll just have to say he's been accepted somewhere else. An apprenticeship. Why, they're not uncommon."

"B-but he hasn't been!"

"I know," he sighed. This was where explaining could get tricky. "Which is why Charlie can't stay here—at the Burrow."

She tore herself from his embrace faster than he could blink, staring at him with a mixture of horror and a mother's rage. "We are not abandoning him, Arthur!"

"Of course not, Molly," he hastened to assure. "But Charlie isn't safe here. What's more, he won't be happy once he gets older, growing up around magic and unable to do it. We've got to raise him in an environment where he'll feel included."

Her eyes had gone wide and her mouth had dropped open. "You don't mean," she whispered hoarsely, "the Muggle world?"

"That's exactly what I mean," he stated. "We can buy a little house in the next village- not too far away and we know how to Apparrate. They start school at an early age, Molly, so he won't be alone. That way, you can watch the kids here during the day and I'll be home for Charlie in the evening."

"We don't have money for a house," his wife pointed out, shaking her head. Tears were streaming down her face at the thought of letting go of one of her babies.

"I'll just have to work a little harder, that's all," he reasoned. "Perkins has been hinting I could make Department Head by the end of the year."

"This really is the best we can do, isn't it?" She asked at last, collapsing against his shoulder.

"Yes, Molly, it is."


Making all the necessary arrangements proved easier said than done. Procuring a house was the first obstacle. He and Molly had argued back and forth over why Charlie could not stay in Ottery St. Catchpole. It was just too close, too easy to make the connection. Normally he let his wife have her way without a fight, but the safety of his family was at stake.

So they finally settled on the quiet village of Leadworth, where the biggest landmark was a post-office—a building he was itching to explore—and it was close enough that Charlie could run home to Mummy by nightfall if he needed to.

He'd taken some odds and ends he'd been tinkering with in the shed and put them together with magic, though it had felt disappointingly like cheating. But Arthur was sure he'd have fun figuring out which rubbery snakes went into which holes-in-the-walls.

It had been a long and arduous process at Gringotts, but he'd converted enough wizard money into the British Weight to put the first payment down on the house and to buy about two weeks' worth of Muggle clothes for himself and Charlie. He'd also given his sons one of the flimsy, colorful papers to look at, which had lasted about five minutes before Fred had eaten it.

When he'd bought the house, however, Arthur had been in for a shock.

"Can I have your name and information?"

He'd frozen in his seat, never anticipating this. He couldn't give his real name; that would defeat the whole purpose of hiding Charlie. He quickly racked his brain for a common, Muggle name.

There was William, but that was a tad too common and it was Bill's name. Then again, that would help him to remember it. Bill, Charlie, Percy…Percival, who they'd gotten the name from—Brian!

"Er, Brian- Williams," he'd stammered. He'd had to use a mild Confundus Charm to get everything sorted properly, something he'd likely feel guilty about forever. But as a father, he would do whatever it took.

Now, at last, came the part that he thought was most likely to break his heart. Arthur ascended the rickety, crooked stairs of their home with a sinking feeling in his chest. If there was only another way. Pausing outside the twins and Percy's bedroom door, he listened.

"And then, they came face-to-face with a big…giant…dragon!"

The twins shrieked with laughter at Charlie's—whom they called 'Charwy'—story. But Percy grumbled, "I wanted a real bedtime story."

"This is real, Perce!" Exclaimed his eldest, Bill. "Now do the dragon noise, Charlie, go on."

The twins cheered their support and his son sighed. "Oh, alright then. RAWR!"

They all laughed, and he felt wretched, but knocked and entered on this moment between his sons. "Hello, boys," he smiled warmly at them: Bill, at the foot of Percy's bed; Percy, sitting up straight and stiff against the headboard; Fred and George, tangled up in the blankets of their crib they shared by choice; and Charlie, standing in between as he told his tale.

"Hey, dad," Bill greeted.

"Have you come to say goodnight?" Percy asked curiously, blinking up at him behind his recently acquired glasses.

"Yes, I have," he told them, walking forward and shooing Bill off the bed so he could properly tuck the boy in. "And that means you all need to go to bed." Carefully, he plucked the spectacles from the young boy's face and set them on the nightstand, bending over to place a kiss to his ginger waves. He then leaned over the crib to sort out his identical sons, and kissed them both goodnight. "Come on, Bill, Charlie, let your brothers sleep."

"Ok," his eldest agreed, taking Charlie by the arm and leading him out of the room. Bill and Charlie, nearly inseparable…oh, what was he doing. "Goodnight, guys!"

"Goodnight, Bill," was the chorus of three young voices.

"Goodnight," Charlie added as well, not wanting to feel left out.

"Goodnight, Charlie," Percy yawned, settling back against his pillow.

"Goodnight, Charwy," one of the twins responded.

"Rawry!" The other shouted instead, setting his double off in a giggling fit. "Goodnight, Rawry!" Arthur shook his head fondly as he waved his wand at the light and shut the door.

"Goodnight." He turned around on the landing to see his two older sons already making their way up to the room they shared. "Ah, Charlie, your mother and I need to talk to you for a minute."

"You do?" He turned, looking uncertain and likely going through that mental checklist children had of what they'd done wrong that day.

"Yes, but it's alright. Just come down with me to our room. Bill you go on to bed, your brother will be up soon." Bill's shoulder's slumped as he seemed put out that his younger brother got to stay up later, but continued on his way. Arthur placed a hand on Charlie's shoulder and guided him down a flight of stairs to his and Molly's room. She was waiting, eyes red and puffy, and he was sure she'd only just managed to stop crying.

"Are you ok, mum?" Their son asked and she offered a watery smile.

"Of course, dear. Now, you just sit on the bed with Mummy, and we'll have a nice little chat." Charlie hopped up onto the mattress, perched on the edge next to his mother as she wrapped an arm around him, and Arthur stood before them both.

"Charlie, you know that we live in a world of magic- we're wizards." He nodded, and Arthur took a breath, trying to use this as momentum to keep going. "Well, being a wizard is something you're born with, and not everyone is."

"Like Muggles?" He questioned, tilting his head to one side.

"Exactly," he praised. His son, such a bright young boy. "But sometimes, in a wizard family, there can be members born into it who don't have magic, either. They're not called Muggles, they're Squibs. It's hard to be certain until they reach Hogwarts-age, but if a child does not show signs of underage magic, then they are likely a Squib."

"Oh," their son said, and then he looked down at his feet. "I haven't done any magic. Does that mean I'm a Squib?" His big, wide eyes glanced up at the end, and Arthur swallowed once.

"Yes, Charlie, you are."

"But that doesn't change anything," Molly cut in, squeezing his shoulders tightly. "Not to us, not how we feel about you. We love you, Charlie, do you understand?"

"He looked up at her, seeming to grow nervous when he saw the wetness of her eyes. "Yes, mummy."

"But, it does mean that things will have to be a little different," Arthur informed him, gently as he could. "Charlie, we want you to be happy and we want you to succeed. So to do that, you have to learn how to live without magic, like a Muggle."

"Like you do in the shed?" He inquired innocently and Arthur winced.

"Er, yes, Charlie. But," he added hurriedly, not wanting to let his wife get started about the shed, "Muggle children your age, they go to school."

"Already?" He scrunched up his nose at this, like any child, and he had to chuckle.

"Yes, they do. But I'm sure it is fun, and you get to meet all new people and make friends. The only problem is, Charlie—we can't let other wizards find out."

Now his son appeared very confused. "Why not?"

"Well, your mother and I have warned you about the bad people, haven't we?" The little boy nodded again, looking a little scared. What sort of world did they live in where children had to be afraid? But it strengthened his resolve to go through with this, to make sure his son was safe. "They don't like Muggles, and especially wizards who associate with Muggles."

"But the Muggles in town are nice, and you're nice, Daddy," the child pointed out, and he had to smile at that.

"I know, son. But sometimes bad people are mean to good people for no other reason than that they are bad. So, we want to make sure the bad people don't know about you being a Squib. For that, Charlie, I need you to do something for me. I need you to pretend you aren't Charlie Weasley- you're going to pretend to be a normal, Muggle boy."

"How?" He looked uncertain, and yet just a tiny bit excited, and that was what Arthur had been hoping for. That his son would see this as something of a game. Better that than the alternative.

"Well, you and I are going to live in a Muggle village called Leadworth, and you'll go to school. We'll come back to the Burrow at night and on the weekends so that you still can play with your brothers and your mother can make sure you're being taken good care of." He was honestly surprised Molly was allowing this much. But she too was willing to sacrifice. "But to the other people in that village, you and I will be normal Muggles—normal people, Charlie, because they don't call themselves Muggles—and live in a little house together. Can you do that?"

"I- I think so," the child offered, and his mother pulled him onto her lap to give him a proper hug.

"My brave, brave boy. Oh, my little Charlie," she murmured over and over. Arthur sighed a final time.

"And just one more thing. You're going to need a new name, so the bad people can't find us." Charlie turned in his mother's arms to look at him.

"I don't get to be Charlie anymore?"

"I'm afraid not," he said sadly, forcing a comforting smile to come onto his face. "But you get to pick a brand new name for yourself." He could do that, at least, for his son. Charlie sat on his mother's lap and seemed to be thinking as hard as a five year-old could.

"Rory," he stated at last, and Arthur blinked, not expecting an answer so soon. But then he realized what his son was doing. He was trying to hang on to what his simple life had been not half an hour ago. Rawry…

"Ok," he nodded. "Rory Williams." Molly was overcome and seemed too distraught to say anything. "We'll talk more in the morning, but for now we should be getting to bed." Arthur lifted his son up from his wife's lap and carried him up the stairs, needing to hold him in his arms to be sure that he could do this, he could protect him. The light was already off in the room and Bill was snoring, so he set the child down in the unoccupied bed and drew the covers up around him, brushing back his hair to place a kiss to his temple.

"Goodnight, Rory," he whispered, joining Molly downstairs and trying his hardest to sleep. The rest of his son's life would start tomorrow.

So that's the first chapter. I'm not sure if I want to structure all of them up like this, but I figured I should set up Rory(Charlie)'s background so you guys understand. I might do another chapter showing Rory's life growing up dealing with his secret before we get to the fun stuff of meshing the two fandoms together. The rest of this story will be a lot funnier, guys, I promise. Anyway, thanks for taking time to read, and please review!