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Charlie Weasley, you're a wonder.

I'm on my way this instant.

Right, then, meet you there.

You'll note that I am not putting this where your mother will see it.

GET TO YOUR HEALER RIGHT THIS INSTANT, YOUNG MAN!

I know perfectly well not all that blood was the dragon's! 'Only a scratch', indeed.

That said, thank you. I know you're aware how precious this ingredient is and how important it could prove. I certainly appreciate the risk you took today.

NOW GET THAT WOUND SEEN TO!

I'm in the infirmary right now, I promise! Apparated back, then straight in to report it, and the cleanup team went out to take care of things and I went straight to the Healer. I would've gone sooner, but, well, I know how tight a time-frame you have to work with.

It wasn't serious, he mostly clawed my robes and they're spelled to be pretty impervious. And thank you for not saying that where Mum could see it. It's easier if she doesn't hear about how banged up we get!

Right, for anybody who sees this later and wonders what that was all about: I stomped out of supper tonight because everybody was getting up my nose and went out flying to cool down, and found Istvan, one of our Horntails, mortally wounded just at the edge of the reserve. Looks like two of them got in a fight, which means we'll have to keep an eye out for who the other one was. I'm guessing it was spill-over from whatever those people are doing to them for the wards.

There was no way he was going to survive, but I did manage to get two phials of blood before I had to put him down. (Wish like hell I'd had more phials with me, too, since I likely could've got more.) I was able to deliver them to Poppy and get back to the reserve quickly enough that nobody missed me.

Sadly, Istvan was tagged, so I couldn't harvest anything else -- no heartstring, no liver, no lung -- since we have strict protocols in place for what happens when one of our dragons dies. But it's something, and I'll keep my eye out in case one of the wild and untagged ones doesn't make it through the winter.

Here's to Istvan. One cranky bastard, but a beautiful dragon.

Nicely done, that, and I'll toast Istvan - in tea, I've far too much marking to do tonight - later.

Poppy, you were missed at supper. Dolores apparently wanted a word.

Fortunately for you, she got distracted before she could come up and find you (something Gwendolyn asked, I think, but I didn't hear) and I heard her say she had students coming up from about now. But you might want an excuse handy for why you weren't at supper.

Thank you, yes, you're quite right.

I'm nearly through the brewing. Thankfully the Cinnabaris is not a difficult or long potion to prepare. Just unforgiving with respect to timing.

Thanks to your quick action today, I now have two precious doses of Cinnabaris vitalis potion tucked away, brewed off the books and without anyone the wiser, as luck would have it. As always, I hope never to need them, but if some truly dire accident were to befall someone here, this potion could save a life.

So, yes, here's to Istvan. And to Charlie Weasley.

Much as it pains me to waste any bit of a dragon who's passed on, I'll keep my fingers crossed that you don't need to use the potions. Although if whatever Lestrange and Dolohov do about that underground duelling club doesn't work to discourage them, you might wind up needing them after all. (Can't believe I just said that. I'm touching wood right now.)

And you don't need to toast me. All part of my job.

Well, that relieves MY mind, that you have some Cinnabaris on hand! I'm glad that Charlie was able to reach you so quickly.

Charlie, well done!

Aw, Mum, it was nothing, really. I'm just glad the infirmary will have it on hand in case of emergency.

Now that the demands of the infirmary have been met, I will place a claim on any further dragon blood you are able to procure. My research on restoring the Sleepers has reached the point where the most likely lines of investigation are draconic.

I'll see what I can do. Give me a list of the ingredients you're most likely to need, sorted from top priority to bottom priority, and I'll get you whatever I can lay hands on. Some things are easy -- scales, shed claw casings, whiskers from the Hebridean Black -- and some things are much, much harder, such as anything that can only be harvested after the dragon's death. If you think you'll need powdered Longhorn horn, for instance, tell me now so I can be on the lookout.

Oh, Charlie, that's tough. Good for you for seizing the opportunity, but I know the entire reserve is going to have a tough time over losing him.

Condolences to you all.

(I'm thinking: do you want me to send you a mokeskin pouch? There's a shop that sells them on Diagon Alley. Might be a good thing for stashing phials, so you'd always have extra on hand).

Thanks, mate. Yeah, we'll miss him. He was a miserable old bugger, but he was our miserable old bugger.

And yeah, that'd be great, cheers. I usually try to keep a full complement in my robes when I'm out and about, but tonight I wasn't wearing my usual, since I wasn't expecting to be needing them. (I actually dumped my antivenin and my emergency burn potion, which we always carry no matter what, to have the phials free.) So I'm kicking myself a bit for not being better prepared. But at least we got some.

Also, I forgot to ask: how'd it go on Monday?

And, Kg2.

It was...interesting, even if I was a bit stymied in accomplishing my purpose. I'd been invited for a birthday beer, but it was all three of them inviting me, really. I spent as much time talking with Remus as I did Tonks, and 'Sinbad' was parked at my feet almost the entire evening. So I never had an opportunity to raise the possibility of dinner.

I'm not giving up, though. What time I did manage to snatch with her in conversation made me see even more how much I do like her. A lot. She's fun, and she's warm and she's friendly.

And Merlin, also busy. Between the customers and Bea it seemed at times as if she barely had a moment to breathe.

I've already decided I'm going back again Friday. Maybe a better chance will come up then.

Nh7.

Well, if nothing else, you'll have a nice few evenings out, somewhere you know the people in charge have got your back. Which is something I think you can use a bit of! All the work for the Order is one thing, but you need a little bit of downtime, too, or else you'll sit down at your desk one night and explode from all the stress.

Another visit tomorrow night sounds like a grand plan -- though from what I've heard, Friday nights are even busier than the rest of the week, so you might not get your chance then, either!

Give my love to everyone, though!

So, are you ever going to start giving me a challenge, here? Qd2.

It was good for me, spending a good slice of time with people I totally trust. Made me realise how rare that's been lately. Yeah, I'll say hello for you next time I'm there, of course.

A challenge? So you can pull out your trebuchets, no doubt. Or pour burning pitch all over the black squares on the board.

I'm almost beginning to wonder whether you might consider swapping out your bishops with a couple of trolls. THEY WOULD BE ADMIRABLY SUITED FOR THE AMOUNT OF INTELLIGENT THOUGHT YOU'RE EXPENDING ON THIS GAME.

Nc5.

And I just offered to Tonks to come in and help distract Miss Bea a bit one night a week or so, since apparently she's into the tantrum phase, so I might meet up with you there one of these nights! Likely won't know until right before when I'll be able to make it, but we'll see.

And oi. If you think I'm not paying attention, why haven't you taken advantage, then? Could be I'm plotting something dastardly you just haven't seen yet.

Or it could be that I'm just amusing myself. The trebuchet should be finished in another few moves. In the meantime: Bxc5.

I know what you mean about having everyone you live with seem completely irritating. Between the baby, the business, the moons, and the shape-shifting, we drive each other mad several times a ~~wee~~ day. I'm sure I'm as awful to live with as the rest, mind you. Not saying I'm perfect at all.

Sounds as if you had a bit of an adventure between the dying dragon and the quick pop to Hogwarts and back and not getting caught out over what you'd done. Good show!

They keep a tight lock on all the saleable bits of your dragons, then? Makes sense, I suppose, but I can't imagine dragon handlers are much for inventories and Ministry parchmentwork, though. Or do you have someone who lives up there who just does that sort of record keeping and line-toeing?

We raised a glass for Istvan here last night. And thought of him again this morning when Bea had a complete caterwauling tantrum at the end of breakfast. I think she's had a growing spurt, and it's all been in her lungs! I swear to you, she wasn't this loud a month ago!

Oh, I remember that age. If it's any consolation, of the two I was old enough to really be aware of, Ron lasted about three months and Ginny about five before they quieted down a bit -- I think it's something to do with the mind being ready to communicate more complex bits but the rest of them not quite caught up yet. Mind you, three to six months more of this might sound like a million years away, but there is a light at the end of the tunnel, at least?

And oi, yeah, I get tired just thinking about all you have to deal with. I think it's natural to have days when you just want to scream, especially when you have too many people in too small a space. (Once it starts blizzarding in earnest up here, we all have to be very, very careful. It's not odd to see somebody wearing their earplugs indoors at supper 'round February or so, nose in a book, quite firmly pretending the other five dozen people don't exist. You learn right quick that if someone's got their earplugs in, they're about half a step away from "transfigure you lot into firewood and have a cheery little bonfire" territory.)

You've got a bit of an outlet at least now, right? Training with Alice and Frank on things? Bet that if you're having a bad day, you could bring Miss Bea to Moddey and find half a dozen child-minders, and Frank would be happy to let you play smash-and-Reparo for as long as it took to feel better. He's always seemed the sort who'd understand needing to get away for a while.

And yeah, we're not much for following along with what the Ministry wants from us, but Director Higgs rides our arses about it all the time. When a dragon dies, they call in a team from the Ministry to take care of the harvesting. Right secretive about it, too. Things like scales and shed claw casings and the like, things you can just pick up wherever you find them, those they don't bother to keep track of so closely, but anything more rare than that, it's your head if they figure out you didn't turn it in.

(With a few exceptions! You've seen Opaleye jewellery, right? Where the eyes harden into gemstones after the dragon dies? Long standing dragonman tradition: if you're the one who finds an Opaleye after death, you're the one who gets to keep or sell the gems. For once, this is a good "don't tell Mum": the dragon whose heartstring I was able to give to Melisandra last year was an Opaleye, and I traded one gem to a jeweller in New London to have the other set in a pendant for her for Christmas. Can't wait to see her face when she sees it!)

Anyway, I hope tonight's less stressful than this morning was. And, you know, if you ever need an extra pair of hands or an extra baby-wrangler one night a week or whatever, we're technically allowed off the reserve whenever we're not scheduled for duty or on call -- we just don't bother most of the time because it's a bit of a pain and usually we don't know until right before whether we'll be on call or not. But I'd be happy to stop in, at least every other week or so. Miss Bea couldn't be worse than dragon kits, after all.

Don't feel badly for me. I don't know what I'd do if I had time enough to be bored. I've always been the fidgety sort.

Which may explain a lot of things about Bea, as well. I think you're right about her being frustrated that she can't say all she wants to and even when she can say it, that doesn't mean we'll agree. It makes her very cross when we don't see things her way. Generally that's because she wants something or wants to do something that we won't allow. Or won't allow endless repetitions of. I've heard toddlers learn by repeating (and repeating and repeating) things--like banging rhythms or making odd, loud sounds or poking the doggie. And sometimes what they learn is that grownups don't like those things very much! And nor do doggies.

By the way, it would be lovely if you'd come for a visit--we've all sorts of work here, including baby minding. And we've also been known to welcome friends just to come enjoy an evening at the garden as guests. No work required! By which I mean, we'd love to see you whenever you could get away.

And Opaleye jewellery is lovely, isn't it? I expect your mum will be over the moon about it. But I expect she's the sort, too, who's really genuinely happy with gifts whatever they are, just because they come from family.

What do you Weasleys do at Christmas? Special things that you do every year?

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