alt_charlie | ORDER ONLY: News from the Reserve

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So, Tonks pointed out that if I had time to owl back and forth with her I bloody well (sorry, Mum) had time to write in my journal, and the journal at least would save the poor owl some flying.

Anyway, I've got some wizard news -- we found out today that three of the eggs Maggie, our youngest Welsh Green, laid a few weeks ago are live. (Took us this long to lure Mags out of the cave long enough to check 'em; she picked a really isolated spot on the shore.) So if all goes well, Mum, come April you'll have a few more grand-dragons.

Thing is, there were eight eggs in the clutch. That's not unusual -- usually there's only one or two fertile ones, which is why we're all so excited that Mags has three. And whenever one of our ladies clutches there's a flurry of people sniffing around, because the shells and the albumen of unfertile dragon eggs are used in a few different (rare) potions, but usually the Masters are willing to wait until April for the dragons to give up on them hatching.

Since we found the nest last week, though, there's been a flurry of back-and-forth -- Director Higgs has been in his office on the Floo nonstop, and we've barely even seen him which is weird because usually he'd be right out there with us for news like this, and he told us at dinner tonight to expect visitors next week and he did not look happy. I don't know if it means anything, but -- Dad, Bill, keep an ear out at work, yeah?

Poppy, I haven't been able to lay my hands on any dragon's blood for the infirmary yet -- it's all been spoken for, and it'd be my head to try to divert any. I'm really sorry. You might want to try making another official request through proper channels -- dunno if it'd work or not, but it might work faster than waiting for me to be able to nick some.

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Good to hear from you, Charlie!

And that's interesting news about the dragonets. And the eggs. And your visitors. Any idea whom Higgs expects to come in for the event?

Haven't heard any names, and I've been listening. Well, as much as I can without seeming off, but fortunately we're a nosy lot. One of the other handlers asked whether we should do anything special to get ready for having people, and all Higgs said was, they haven't been here before but we shouldn't worry too much about it.

Which could mean anything.

Interesting. I wonder if it has anything to do with the wards again. I mean, I know you've only reported mysterious visitors at the Solstices up until now. But, well, next week is Halloween...

I wonder if Dumbledore has any idea. Minerva, it might be worth asking him?

Yeah, that's why I wanted to ask you and Bill to keep your ears to the ground. I don't know if it's related to Maggie's eggs, or to the wards, or to something else entirely, but I figured you lot would want to know.

If there's anything I can try to find out, just steer me in the right direction, but if you can't find out anything I'll just keep playing helpful Charlie and see if Higgs lets anything slip.

How thrilling!

I'm very happy and excited to hear the news about Maggie (well, for all of you). I don't think she has any use for knitted dragon booties, though...not to mention she'd probably burn them to blackened cinders!

Is she very tetchy, now that's she's clutching?

Oh, Mum, she's gorgeous. Welsh Greens turn luminous when they're brooding -- it's how we can tell it's time to go searching out the clutch, when they turn up looking all smug and radiant -- and she's a perfect example. (You met her, actually, the first time you lot were up here -- remember, she was the one I said was the first hatchling after I joined staff? Cost me my first singed hair, actually!)

She's been a good enough girl, she has. Bit cranky, but you would be too, if a bunch of people kept coming 'round when you were busy with the job of making babies! And no, I don't think booties would go over well, but if you've some scraps of wool you're not using, send them along. I'm sure she'd appreciate them for the nest she's assembling -- I caught sight of a few robe scraps in there.

I'll keep an ear out, definitely. Dad and I can talk it over next time we meet for lunch, see if we have any ideas. If you hear the names before the visit, definitely let us know.

Oh yeah, it's my move, isn't it?

Rc1.

Interesting. I'd ask why you didn't go for castling, there, but I suspect you'd just give me that look and tell me to wait and see.

B6.

I know exactly what look you mean. It's the one that Dad gives me all the time whenever we play.

I'm glad you've unearthed your journal again, you scatterbrain. It's nice not to have to wait several days for a bloody owl to bring me your next move.

cxd5.

Yes! That look entirely. That's exactly the one I meant.

And you still might have to wait, since we're busy as all hell, but I'll try to remember to check when I've got a few minutes. And I was waiting for you to take that pawn, ha.

exd5.

Oh, don't worry. I have plenty more surprises in store.

Qa4.

Are you really sure you want to do that?

c5.

I'll remind you that the same bloke who taught you how to bluff (i.e., Dad) taught me how to do it first. Which means I've been doing it longer than you.

Qc6.

Huh.

Rb8, and if you do what I think you're going to do ...

(Also, doing it longer than me doesn't mean you're doing it better than me.)

I'll grant you that. As would anyone else who's ever watched Percy playing against Ron.

(Which is probably why Percy hardly ever plays Ron anymore, come to think of it. He does so hate to lose.)

Nxd5.

Oi. Yeah, Percy. Percy is ...

You still have lunch with him pretty regularly, don't you? Is he -- Well. I won't ask if he's all right, because I'm sure he'd say that he's fine and completely miss the other meaning. But -- Would it help for me to write him, a bit, do you think? I can lose a few chess games if it'd make him feel less like the whole world's against him.

Oh, and, Bb7.

Yeah, I have lunch with him at least once a week, usually. And I see him and Penny on Sunday evenings, of course, when we all come to the Burrow for dinner.

It's--difficult. I mean, he's family, and he always will be. But it's almost as if he's stretching the ties of family as thin as he can, just short of making them snap so that he's nothing but a stranger.

He still idolises Malfoy. It worried Dad, and it drives Mum mad. She has the worst time hiding how much she hates hearing him going on and on: Mr Malfoy always says, Mr Malfoy firmly believes, as I was telling Mr Malfoy...

Despite working for his idol, I don't think Percy's entirely happy. Malfoy is certainly treating him like a house elf, for one thing, and I'm seeing signs of stress. Percy's also hinted that his budget isn't quite making ends meet. I think being Lucius' assistant makes him aspire to something his salary can't quite match.

You can try writing to him, sure. I don't know if he'll have much interest in journal chess--he's turned me down the last three times I suggested a game--but maybe he'll open up with you about some things he won't discuss with me.

Nxe7+. Ha.

Again I say, oi. And Perce is Perce, and Merlin help you if you so much as suggest he's anything less than fully capable and in control. Have to confess I don't know what he sees in that tosser, except of course Perce's always wanted ... oh, I don't know. Halfway between security and power, or maybe not so much power as regard?

If there's anybody who relates to feeling like a bit of an outsider in the Weasley family scrum it's me, but I don't know if he'd let me work around to feeling him out on that. I'll give it a try, though, as soon's I've got a few spare hours to think out my approach.

And speaking of approach, Qxe7.

It can only help, I think. At any rate, Dad and I would appreciate it if there were another Weasley we trust, giving him little nudges every once in awhile to think about things.

Frankly, we need all the help we can get to counteract that tosser, as you put it, who has his hand firmly planted at Perce's back, urging him on toward the abyss.

Qa4.

Ugh. Today has been uglier than Merlin's sweaty nutsack and it's only lunchtime. (Not that I've managed to get lunch, yet. I'm hiding in the toolshed instead. I can't take another bloody moment of everyone yelling at everyone else over absolutely nothing. I know they say that old wives' tale about dragon moods affecting people is completely impossible, but 'they' never asked a dragonman when they decided.)

Thinking about how to reach out to Perce. It occurs to me it might start us off right if I had something I could ask his advice on, put him in the position of being the expert for once. Can't think of anything that might work, though. You have any ideas?

Also, Rbc8 and I'm starting to get the feeling this is not going to be my game.

Hmm. That's a tough one. He knows you don't have the least bit of interest in knowing the whereabouts of the best New London restaurants, for example. Nor would he believe you want his advice on how to claw your way up the bureaucracy ladder, and anyway, if you did, it'd seem bloody peculiar to him that you were asking him rather than me.

Nor do I think you should pretend you need an agony aunt for relationship advice. (And no, you know perfectly well I haven't said a thing; he's as clueless as Mum and Dad are about your situation).

I'll ponder the issue, too. Meanwhile, you can ponder your next move. Qa3.

Yeah, if nothing else I'll try to nudge my way into being available and helpful while they're here and try to catch names that way -- Higgs still doesn't exactly like me, but he's content to let me do the annoying stuff he doesn't want to. Though, if it's anything like the other times we've had mysterious visitors, they'll be using pseudonyms. But I'll tell you the minute I've got anything!

So you did find the book after all. It wasn't really lost, was it? (Didn't really believe it was.)

At any rate, this saves my worrying about post owls being eaten by your dragons up there.

What sort of potions use dragon eggs? I mean, are we talking Department of Mysteries? or St Mungo's? or something less official?

It was lost. I found it under my mattress in the dorms all bunched up with three shirts, a jumper (no, Mum, not one of yours) and five socks.

(Which tells me perhaps I should do my laundry more often.)

I can't remember the whole range of potions involved but I know there are a few different healing potions. I know they're used in some fertility treatments, and I think they're an alternate ingredient in some treatments for certain kinds of organ failure, too. And I think there's a rare treatment for insomnia that uses powdered dragon egg shells. But, yeah, I'm more worried on the Mysteries end, since the albumen is often used in spells having to do with time, and that makes me nervous.

(And I'm horribly late on replying to your last owl, but I did get it -- we've just been swamped up here since it's breeding season.)

Well, I did wonder. But no worries.

I'm sure there are no end of distractions when everyone's in season.

Ha. No pun intended, right?

I am sorry, though. I don't want you to think I don't care or anything! Just, yeah, sixteen-hour days, and by the end of it I'm so tired all I can do is fall into bed and sleep like a rock until my alarm charm sounds.

I suppose you could always come visit if you ever need to get away from it all for a few days, although this isn't the best time of year for visitors and I don't know if anybody'd remember that we weren't all that close back in school and wonder how we knew each other now. But if you ever wanted to, you'd be welcome. We're a friendly lot.

I'm the last one likely to say you ought to find some way to squeeze more into your schedule or to doubt how knackered you must be by the end of a day.

Let's just say I get that completely.

I fell asleep handing Bea a biscuit this morning. Head down on her tray, snoring.

I'd like to visit Stornoway one day. I think it must be brilliant. But not to worry: I won't be able to make it this season. Frank and I are using every spare half a day, going into the camps to build our connections there. Going again tomorrow, in fact.

Anywiz, I'll be glad for a letter whenever you get time. Or you could write here, now you've found how it's done! But I don't expect you to spend all the time you're awake writing me. I mean, I know I'm not all that.

I'm supposed to be catching a nap before I have to leave for work, so I'm going to close my book now, but I'll catch you again soon, I hope.

Wish I could help with all that, really. I feel like I'm not doing much for the cause tucked away up here when the rest of you lot are having daring adventures. Feels a bit selfish sometimes, yeah?

How is Miss Bea doing, then?

I think everyone believes there's likely to be a very significant use for our bloke at Stornoway one of these days. If we can only figure out what exactly those dragons and that place have got to do with the Wards.

Miss Bea is using her words. Loudly. And Firmly.

Throwing her whole self into communicating, too, if we don't seem like going along with what she wants. We are fully into the age of the tantrum, and some of us wonder if we will live to see what comes next.

How are you, besides tired?

Oh, Merlin, the tantrum phase. I firmly believe my love for being outside came from the twins' terrible twos. I could send you a set of the charmed earplugs we use!

And, yeah. I know Professor Dumbledore thinks the dragons and the wards are connected (and I'm still a bit weirded out at how he and I have apparently had long conversations about that) and there's no denying something strange is going on. But still. When you've got Bill and Dad going to work every day and doing things they hate with people they hate just to have a chance of being in the right place at the right time, me lurking up here and doing what I love feels ...

Well. When you land on your feet in a world like this one, makes you feel a bit dirty, I guess.

But, enough of that. I'm doing all right, all things considered. Playing chess with Bill's faster now I've unearthed my journal again, although that might not be to my advantage! He thinks faster than I do. Other than that, we're all running around like headless chickens, and looking forward to the winter lull. I'm thinking of trying to get Greg to teach me his woodcarving charms this winter. I'll be sure to send you my first attempts for you to laugh at.

Yes, I imagine it must be odd to know you've chosen to have him obliviate you. And more than once, wasn't it? That was, well, not the oddest part of that whole meeting, but one of the odder bits. Hearing what all Dumbledore's got up to that we didn't know, most of us, and that those who did had let him wipe out of their minds.

He really is a daft one, isn't he?

And it's strange to feel like I'm the only one that didn't know him before. Well, Mac didn't either, I suppose, but that's different. He knew who Dumbledore was and had met him and had a good idea what he was about. Back then.

I was just too young. And I don't think my parents had anything to do with him, really. But the Crouches, well. I certainly grew up hearing things about Dumbledore, only it was Farty shouting at his father for having listened to Albus Dumbledore and having stupidly done Dumbledore's work for him on the Wizengamot before the war and having chosen the losing side to wager on. According to the Grouch, his father should have been sent to Azkaban forever as a traitor because he'd followed Dumbledore--would have been sent there, except Mrs Crouch begged Farty to stop it, and he did. I expect Mr Crouch didn't half wish he was in Azkaban instead, sometimes.

Anywiz. Point is, I'm the only one who really doesn't know what Dumbledore was like before the war. Except that he was someone Farty the Grouch hated, which makes me inclined to like him just for that. Only, everyone else seems... bothered... by how he's changed. And I can't guess at that.

Oh, do send me what you carve if you take it up. I could use the laugh!

Sorry, didn't mean to leave you hanging, but Robert came in just after I wrote my last reply (he's got the bunk next to me) and wanted to talk about something, and I had to put the book down so he wouldn't notice I was writing something he couldn't see.

I don't know what I think about Dumbledore, really. Well, of course Mum and Dad believe in him, would follow him anywhere really, and even though they never came out and said it -- not until me and Bill joined up with the Order at least -- we always could tell they were more on his side than not. But the way they talk about him sometimes when they think we're not listening, like they're just waiting for him to come back and wrap things up all nice and neat and then everything will be all right again...

I remember my uncles, a bit, too. Mum's brothers, the ones who were in the Order? And they idolised Dumbledore, it was pretty clear. And if all these people I love and trust think Dumbledore knows what he's doing, even if he's different from how he used to be, then who am I to say otherwise?

And until that meeting I would've said, sure, I'd trust Dumbledore too. But hearing that somebody's been visiting you regularly, having long conversations about Godric-knows-what, and then lifting it out of your head at the end of it -- And it doesn't make me not trust him, because I can see why he'd want me to forget what he was asking about. I'm not utter pants at keeping secrets, I've kept plenty of them long enough, but it's a really small world up here and if he'd found out something that would change how I acted, or how I thought, I can see where I would have asked him to make me not remember. But I don't know. Not for sure.

I might ask Sirius what he thinks about that, actually. If you don't think it would sound weird.

I don't think I said it last time you mentioned, but I'm sorry about your mum and dad. And that you got stuck with a family like the Grouches. There's a lot of things not right about the stuff they've done, but what they did to families really makes me see red. I might not always want to live right on top of mine, but I love them and I don't know what I'd do without them. It's not fair that you had to grow up without yours.

Do ask Sirius. You should. I'd be interested to know what he says, actually.

And thanks. About Mum and Dad. I suppose I think it was just as well it was the Crouches who took me in. At least I didn't have to worry much about how much I disliked them. Never felt guilty about that at all. I think it would have been harder almost if they'd tried to make nice.

Only, I wish I'd got some good secrets or embarrassing stories I could tell on Farty, but no such luck.

I will, then. Ask Sirius, I mean. Sometime when we're not having the day from hell up here. (Nothing dire, just a whole bunch of little things going wrong, and everyone's on edge and shouting at each other. I hate it when people are on edge and shouting at each other.)

And, yeah. Wouldn't have thought of it that way, but I guess that would be easier on you. Nobody playing Happy Families and expecting you to be sunshine and roses, yeah? Although, yeah, I'd've been disappointed to not get the dirt on Farty, too. You just know a bloke like that's got some really serious skeletons in his closet somewhere.

And -- look, I know it's not the same. Wouldn't try to even suggest it was. But you know my mum and dad think the world of you, right? If you ever need a direction to lean on, I know neither of them would think twice about it.

Maggie. Bit of odd name for a Welsh Green.

Been meaning to ask: If Ethine's still at your reserve, how's she faring?

She is! And she's thriving -- you should see how big she's got. She's been making eyes at Bartók, one of our adolescent Ridgebacks, this season -- I think she'll be ready for her first clutch next year.

I'll send you a sketch, next chance I get.

Cheers then, it'll be something to look forward to. Been awhile.

While I'm scavenging scales for the Terrible Two, I'll see if I can lay hands on one I know is hers and send that along as well -- they don't watch the disposition of those quite so tightly. Dierdre, up here, makes pendants out of 'em, in fact, since they take protection charms so well. Want me to have her make one for you?

Might as well. Could be nice.

You got it. She's a good girl, really -- doesn't cause us any trouble at all, unlike some of the other Ridgebacks. Guess you did a good job with her!

We could use a few more dragon scales, if you could slip some more in the next owl package you send to us. They make excellent testing templates for some of our experiments for Fu on possible materials for reinforced armour.

Oh, and dragon bogeys, if you have any way of getting some. For an experimental potion.

Yeech. Only you two would ask someone for dragon bogeys.

I can get you your scales, no problem, but if you want the bogeys, you'll have to come up here and collect them yourselves.

...Actually, on second thought, don't. I'm still hearing about your last visit.

Ah, well. I'd hoped you might have an opportunity, but I do understand.

Unfortunately, dragon blood is still being channelled exclusively to the Dept of Mysteries. So far as I know, even St M's requests are turned away. Certainly, mine have been efforts in futility.

(So do keep me in mind if the opportunity presents itself. And in the meantime, I shall hope we avoid any truly catastrophic injuries here, which, as you know, cannot be assured in a castle full of hex-, hormone-, and homework-addled adolescents.)

I'm definitely keeping an eye out, but it's harder than you might think -- I'd have to be the first one to come across an injured dragon without a partner on hand, and from breeding to hatching we usually go about in pairs for safety. I can't be sure of anybody else here, that they wouldn't report me if my count of vials turned up short I mean, and I don't want to risk it. Not without being certain, I mean.

Dierdre's my usual partner, these days, and I don't think she'd turn me in; we're good friends. But I'm still not sure. I'll keep looking for a chance, though -- sometimes around mid-winter I can catch a lucky break.

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Private message to Charlie Weasley

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Private Message to Charlie

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