I tried to fantasize a little about the most underrated son of the Weasley family, but I returned to Harry Potter again. And of course I'm talking about Charlie Weasley, a specialist in dragon studies in Romania. I thought a little about the clothes of dragonologists, I really doubt that working with such dangerous creatures as dragons, they rely only on their magic, so, in my opinion, each of them should wear something like a protective jumpsuit made of dragon skin, like those worn by Formula 1 or Nascar racers. What do you think?
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A/N: In the aftermath of Norbert escaping into the compound, Charlie has been struggling to regain the trust of the young dragon. At a social event, he asks some of his colleagues for advice, but he’s not the only one with questions. Warnings: alcohol, friendly teasing and banter, animal distress, references to animal death.
Dragon was sitting at Charlie’s feet, staring hopefully at Charlie as he finished cooking.
“I don’t know what you’re looking at me like that for,” Charlie said, raising his eyebrows at the Crup, who tilted his head to one side. “You know you won’t be getting anything.”
In protest, Dragon whined and thumped his two tails on the ground. Charlie laughed and shook his head, tipping his food into a bowl and carrying it into the living room with Dragon at his heel, sniffing the floor in the hope that he might have dropped something.
Charlie sat down at his small table, on which his burgundy notebook lay open on a blank page, a quill and pot of ink at its side. He blew on a forkful of food before placing it into his mouth, staring at the notebook all the while. As he put his fork back into the bowl, Artemis’ messy handwriting began to etch itself across the page. A smile spread across Charlie’s freckled face.
Are you there yet?
Charlie switched his fork into his right hand and picked up the quill with his left, dipping it into the ink, and writing his reply.
I’m here. How was your first week?
The answer came quickly.
Kind of boring. We’ve not gone out or done much practical stuff yet because they want us to get used to the attitude first.
Charlie frowned, and wrote again.
The attitude?
Yeah. This mountain is really high. Makes you dizzy and stuff.
It was lucky that Artemis couldn’t see him, Charlie thought, as he choked on his food.
“I’m alright, Dragon,” he said, seeing the concerned look on the Crup’s face. He shook his head and wrote again.
You doing alright?
Yep. Had a headache for a day, but they have decent potions for it.
That hadn’t been quite what Charlie meant. He wasn’t sure if Artemis realised that or not, so he persisted.
Good. And other than the altitude?
A few moments passed before the response came.
I’m fine.
Charlie nodded. She was being deliberately evasive, then. Better to change the subject altogether. Artemis obviously had decided the same thing, because as he dipped his quill back into the ink pot, she continued writing:
How’s my favourite dragon?
Now it was Charlie’s turn to be evasive.
He’s alright. He’s here begging me for food at the moment.
I meant Norbert.
Of course she did. The problem was, Norbert wasn’t doing all that well. Ever since the incident in the compound, the ridgeback had been less trustful of Charlie than ever, and try as he might, Charlie couldn’t persuade Norbert to rise into the air, even for a moment. With only a couple of months left until he had to be released, things weren’t looking good for Norbert.
Charlie sighed, laid his quill down on the table, and ran his fingers through his hair. He didn’t want to lie to Artemis, but he didn’t want to upset her either. He had to write something, though, so he decided to tell her a half-truth.
Well, he can fly now.
Even from the other side of the world, Artemis must have sensed that he wasn’t telling her everything, because she wrote a single word back to him:
But?
Charlie’s lips twitched into a fleeting wry smile. He took another bite of food as he considered his response, before returning to the notebook once more.
But he doesn’t want to. I saw him fly a little way the weekend before last, but he’s not done it since. He sort of takes off, and then goes straight back down to the ground, or will move just a small distance, but never very high.
His front teeth grazed his lower lip. He hadn’t told anyone how worried he was about Norbert. He didn’t know what to do to help him, but he wasn’t sure who to go to for advice. He didn’t think that anyone would understand why rehabilitating this one dragon was so important to him, and he was still embarrassed about what had happened in the compound a fortnight previously.
Maybe he’s scared of heights.
Despite his fears, Artemis’ response made him laugh. He scrawled one word onto the page.
Maybe.
Don’t laugh.
I’m not laughing, Charlie wrote back, still chuckling to himself.
He might be! It’s not such a stupid idea. He’s not had to fly high before or been able to, the only time he’d have been high from the ground was when we flew him over from Hogwarts. That must have been scary for him.
Charlie thought about it for a second. Artemis might have a point. She hadn’t finished.
Besides, lots of people are scared of heights. Remember Ben? He was terrified of them in first year at school. We had to levitate him off the ground to get him used to them before he’d get on a broomstick properly.
Of course Charlie remembered Ben, he was one of his best friends at school, despite the fact that they had almost nothing in common. The most stark difference between them, though, was their attitude to flying. Charlie had always felt more comfortable in the air than he had on the ground, but Ben was petrified of heights, and had been relieved when he had been allowed to give up lessons altogether.
Alright, you’ve made your point. I’ll have a look in the research centre tomorrow, see if there’s any advice in there about dragons that are scared of heights.
Even writing the words, Charlie felt half-mad. There was no way he would be able to do what Artemis suggested next:
Or you could ask if any of the other dragonologists know what to do.
Still, he wrote back:
Yeah. Maybe.
He quickly changed the subject, and the written conversation soon turned to less complicated subjects, such as mutual friends, Quidditch league tables, and the magical fauna of South America. He had long finished eating when a knock came at the door.
“Weasley!” Felix’s voice called out over the noise of Dragon barking. “Are you still coming with us?”
Charlie glanced down at his watch and swore under his breath. He was supposed to be meeting some of his colleagues for drinks that evening, and was planning on walking to the local tavern with Felix. He should have gone over to his lodge half an hour earlier.
“Shut it, Dragon,” he said, walking to the front door and opening it. Felix raised a single eyebrow at him. He’d returned to the lodge straight from the holding pens, and hadn’t showered or gotten changed before making dinner. “Sorry, mate. Didn’t realise the time. You go on without me.”
Felix pursed his lips, but nodded his assent. Charlie apologised again, and Felix disappeared with a loud crack.
Returning to the notebook, Charlie hastily wrote another message.
I’m really sorry, I’ve got to go. Was meant to go out for drinks with the others ten minutes ago. Was nice catching up with you.
Nice. Of all the words. He shook his head, despairing at himself. Artemis wrote back:
You too. Have fun with the others. You can ask them about Norbert.
Charlie grimaced.
Yeah. Good idea, he responded.
Same time next week?
Alright. Maybe you’ll have seen a Vipertooth by then.
If I do, I’ll write straight away.
I’ll hold you to that.
Charlie laid down his quill, and made to close the notebook, but as he did, two more words appeared on the page.
Miss you.
He wrote two back:
You too.
He closed the book - actually closed it this time - and took his bowl back to the kitchen and placed it in the sink. He’d wash it tomorrow. He quickly fed Dragon, washed himself, and put on some clean clothes. It would have been faster to Apparate to the tavern, but he really hated Apparating. At least he was fast enough on a broom to catch up with the others.
He arrived in the village only twenty minutes late, and entered the tavern to find his colleagues almost finished with their first round of drinks.
“Look what the Kneazle dragged in,” said Jaime, calling across the bar. Charlie smiled and shook his head. “Why are you so late?”
“Lost track of time,” Charlie replied, pulling up a chair. “Was writing to a friend.”
“So, that is what the young people are calling it these days,” Jaime winked. “Okay, Charlie is buying our next drinks. Punishment for his late arrival.”
Charlie didn’t mind that at all. He took the orders from Felix, his fellow Englishman; Jaime the Spaniard; Tatiana and Vasile, who were actually Romanian; and Pradeep, a man of few words and the oldest person on the reserve, who hailed from India and had been working at the sanctuary for longer than anyone could remember. It was one of the great things about life at the dragon reserve: his colleagues had come there from all over the world for the very thing he was passionate about, a passion that bonded them all.
As the group shared another round of drinks, and another after that, their conversations grew louder, and more personal.
“So, this friend you’re writing to,” Vasile asked, raising his eyebrows. “Is this the same friend who brought the Ridgeback to the sanctuary?”
“One of them, yeah,” Charlie took a sip of mead.
“The one that’s got you walking a dragon on a lead?” Jaime smirked, and all the dragonologists laughed, including Charlie. “Never thought I’d meet anyone crazy enough to do something like that.”
“Alright, it was a stupid idea. When will everyone stop going on about it?”
“When someone does something even more stupid.”
“Basically, never,” muttered Tatiana, and there were more laughs, none of them unkind. Charlie nodded. He’d been expecting them to tease him about this.
“Anyway, this friend of yours,” Vasile changed the subject back. “Is she pretty?”
Charlie frowned.
“I don’t think I said that she was a girl,” he said, and Jaime sat up straight, and made pointed eye contact with Vasile.
“Is this friend a girl?”
In response to Jaime’s question, Charlie nodded. Jaime sighed, and pushed two silver coins across the table to Vasile, who was smiling triumphantly.
“Told you so,” said Vasile, pocketing the coins. “You didn’t answer the question. Is she good looking?”
“Oh, no,” Charlie shook his head. The other men looked disappointed in him. “Well, not no. Yes. I mean, she is, but that’s not…This isn’t about that. She’s my friend.”
His words were met with blank stares. Charlie looked at his workmates and shrugged.
“What?” he asked them.
“Interesting,” said Jaime, putting down his drink. “So, you two aren’t-”
“No. We are friends. Just friends.”
“I want my money back, Vasile.”
“Not so fast,” Vasile held up a hand. “I don’t believe him.”
“Of course you don’t, it suits you not to.”
“It’s true,” Charlie grinned, shaking his head.
“Sure.”
“It is!”
“Okay, let’s have a vote,” Tatiana said, eyes glittering mischievously. “All those who believe Charlie, raise their hands.”
Jaime pointed his finger to the ceiling.
“And those who don’t?”
Charlie’s remaining colleagues, including Tatiana herself, raised their hands. Charlie opened his mouth and stared at them in disbelief.
“Oh, come on,” he said. “I mean… Felix!”
“Sorry, mate,” Felix muttered, lowering his hand and picking up his glass. “It’s just… Well, she’s got you walking a dragon on a lead.”
“That was my own - admittedly stupid - idea.”
“Still, I don’t think I’d be doing anything like that for someone who was just a friend.”
There was no point in arguing with them, but Charlie couldn’t let it go.
“Yeah, well. I’m not you,” he said. His voice was harsher than he’d intended it to be, and he saw Felix exchange glances with Tatiana. He sighed, and softened. “I’m telling you. Artemis is just my friend. She’s my best friend.”
No one spoke for a few moments, until Pradeep uttered a single sentence, so quietly that if anyone else had been speaking, he wouldn’t have been audible at all:
“My wife is my best friend.”
Again, everyone was quiet. Pradeep smiled at Charlie, and bowed his head.
“That’s… Yeah, that’s great. Really lovely,” said Charlie. “But again, I’m not you.”
“So, nothing has ever-”
“No, Vasile, nothing’s ever happened between us.”
“But have you ever wanted it to?” Vasile raised his eyebrows again. “Even for just a second?”
Charlie paused and considered for a moment before shrugging and shaking his head.
“Liar.”
“Can we change the subject, please?” Charlie asked, laughing.
“Guilty conscious, is it?”
“No, I just don’t see the point in arguing with you when you obviously don’t believe me.”
“I believe you.”
“Thanks, Jaime,” Charlie raised his glass to him, as Tatiana murmured something in Romanian under her breath, and Vasile laughed. Desperate to change the subject, Charlie turned the discussion to something that would get their attention. “I’ve been meaning to ask you all about the Ridgeback, actually. I’m struggling to get him to fly.”
“He flew pretty well last weekend.”
“I know, but he’s reluctant. Stubbornly so,” Charlie frowned. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s almost afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Heights.”
Laughter echoed around the table again. Only Pradeep remained silent, nodding slowly.
“You’ve seen this before?” Charlie asked him. Pradeep nodded again. “How did you fix it?”
The expression in Pradeep’s dark eyes grew mournful, and he shook his head. Charlie swallowed, more worried about Norbert than ever. The rest of the dragonologists stopped laughing.
“No,” said Tatiana, her eyebrows furrowing. “No, there has to be a way to help that.”
Pradeep shook his head once more, and a solemn silence settled over the table.
“I’ve got an idea,” Charlie said, putting his drink down. “I’ll need you all to help me, though.”
“Is it as mad as walking the bloody thing on a lead?” asked Felix.
“Yeah. If not madder. But it has to be worth a try, right?”
Charlie looked around at his colleagues hopefully. One by one, they all nodded. Charlie smiled, and told them his plan.
The following morning, the six dragonologists met at the holding pens. Charlie was the first to arrive, holding his broomstick in one hand, and a sack full of steaks in the other. Norbert, eyes on the sack, came close to the bars of the pen, but when he saw the others approaching, backed away, smoking at the nostrils.
“It’s alright, Norbert,” Charlie told him. “These are my friends. They’re here to help you.”
He threw Norbert a steak, and the dragon stopped backing away. Charlie held a hand up to the others.
“Right,” he said. “You lot stay back, and spread out. I’ll get him out into the open.”
His colleagues did as he instructed, and he used his wand to open the pen. A couple of steaks thrown in front of the open gate, and Norbert walked out of his own accord.
“Okay, on three,” Felix called out. “One, two, three.”
At Felix’s count, Charlie mounted his broomstick, and the others raised their wands, swishing them through the air and gesturing to the dragon with a flicking movement.
Slowly, Norbert started to levitate into the air. Charlie pushed up off the ground and hovered so that he was level with him, six feet from the ground. Norbert was motionless, frozen with fear.
“Don’t be scared, mate,” Charlie said. “You’re not going to fall. Look, have a steak.”
He summoned a steak and threw it to Norbert, who caught it. Clearly, he wasn’t so frightened that he couldn’t eat. That was good, Charlie thought to himself.
Over the next hour, the dragonologists levitated and lowered Norbert, a little higher each time, while Charlie flew beside him, offering him food. If Norbert refused the food, then he was brought back down to the ground. Once he had settled, they tried again. By the time Norbert had decided that he’d had enough - and made the fact clear by setting a nearby tree on fire - they had managed to levitate him ten feet off the ground.
Encouraged by the progress they had made in just one morning, Charlie and his colleagues met daily to repeat the process.
It worked.
After four days, they managed to get Norbert twenty-five feet in the air. After a week, fifty. Another week later, and Norbert was actually beating his wings to get higher. Another week, and he was actively trying to follow Charlie.
And, then, one day in early September, as Charlie mounted his broomstick, Norbert took to the sky by himself. The dragonologists stared upwards at him, scarcely daring to believe it.
Norbert seemed not to believe it, either, because he got to around thirty feet in the air, and looked around, as if he were confused. He looked down, and flew back to the ground, and turned to face Charlie.
“That was great, Norbert,” Charlie said. “You should do it again. Go on.”
The dragon blinked, and made an odd snorting sound, issuing a small puff of smoke. Charlie frowned.
“You want me to come with you?” he asked. Norbert snorted again. Charlie took that as an affirmative response.
And so, Charlie mounted his broomstick, and he and the dragon rose up into the sky.
Going to start this blog off right, by posting about the book that started my quest to become a Dragonologist. Drake's Comprehensive Compendium of Dragonology is a must have for anyone that wishes to learn about the wondrous creatures that are dragons. The book is filled with information documented by Dr Ernest Drake, the former head of the Secret and Ancient Society of Dragons, or the S.A.S.D for short.
