"Oh, criminy," Charlie murmured as he began to unfasten the restraint on the injured neck of the young Swedish Short-Snout.
The new environment of the Burrow's expansive backyard was an understandably disconcerting change from their sanctuary in Romania, but when the time came for Charlie to leave for Britain, he just couldn't bring himself to leave their newest dragonling, Safira, behind.
With the sanctuary finally established and up-and-running, Charlie was finally able to take the vacation he had so richly deserved. He hadn't wanted to, at first, no. He could hardly bear the thought of leaving behind his reptilian charges. However, it was the urging from his staff and other volunteers, with claims that he looked "tired," and proclamations of "oh, how can you properly take care of the dragons if you're not looking after yourself," that finally changed his mind.
Plus, with the chance to finally attend the Quidditch World Cup, how could he refuse?
And what a great fiasco that turned out to be, he mentally griped, returning his attention to the dragonling in front of him. She had begun to whine, and Charlie couldn't entirely blame her, what with the now raw, rope-burned skin where her restraint used to be. The poor thing must have been pulling for hours. "I know, sweetheart," he consoled in dulcet tones. "Only for a few weeks longer. We're in Britain now, and however badly I wish you could fly around to your heart's content…" He trailed off, recalling the horror stories of dragons that had been unsuspectingly killed by poachers in magical Britain. Charlie was loath to admit it, but the magical British public just didn't have the same respect and appreciation for mythical creatures as the rest of Europe did. As such, the restraints were a necessary (thankfully temporary) evil.
Having pulled a pot of salve from his supply bag and applied it to the affected skin, he tossed Safira a raw chicken breast, which was heartedly gobbled up. Her whining had ceased, a good indication that the skin had begun mending. She had begun to breathe deeply from her nose, and Charlie's lips quirked upward when the reptilian equivalent of a contented sigh escaped her nostrils. Charlie brought his hand up, rubbing Safira's snout, which she clearly enjoyed, as she leaned into his touch. Give it a few hours, and she'll be good as new.
Taking in the sight of the dragon he had grown to care for so deeply, his mind began to drift to when they had first met.
She had been such a tiny thing when Charlie had first found her. They had responded to an owl from a local farm in Romania, claiming to have been hearing "cries in the night" coming from a neighboring forest. Charlie, naturally, was the first to respond. Surmised at only being a few weeks old, Safira was small enough to fit into the palm of his hand. She was remarkably malnourished then, and Charlie still found himself pondering to this day as to how exactly she was able to survive for so long on her own. He and his staff had surmised that she was abandoned by her mother, an act which is sadly quite common for the runt of a litter, which Charlie suspected Safira was. When she was brought back to the sanctuary, she was deemed "unsociable" and subsequently kept from other dragons her age, much to Charlie's displeasure. She wasn't unsociable, just scared.
That was almost 6 months ago now. Safira had thrived from his attentions, quickly gaining back the lost weight, and going through several growth spurts before reaching her current size as of right now: slightly taller than Charlie. He couldn't have been more pleased by this. And, should all go to plan in terms of her growth and development, Safira's height and weight will double before she reaches full maturity!
But while her health continues to thrive, even while away from the sanctuary... her sociability, or lack thereof, is seemingly unchanged. While trusting Charlie implicitly, she's still prone to tantrums when in the presence of anyone seen as a potential threat. Which, in her eyes, is everyone, the poor dear. He recalled the day of his arriving at the Burrow, and the firey introduction Safira had with the rest of the family. Thankfully, Ron's singed eyebrows should grow back within the next few weeks. Hopefully. If you ask me, though, he deserved it.
Having successfully healed and calmed his reptilian companion, Charlie allowed himself to recline on the grass below, his hands never once leaving the dragon's body. Safira stretched her limbs before curling her body around Charlie's in a distinctly feline manner, as they both began to unwind.
A yawn escaped Charlie's lips, and his brow inadvertently furrowing at the images crossing his mind.
No one had seen the attack coming, but when it did come, the Weasley's were among the first to spring into action.
Mr. Weasley, Bill and Charlie were tasked with corralling their youngest siblings, their friends, and most importantly, Harry Potter.
There were frequent flashes of blinding green, illuminating the particles of dust and smoke in the air. Bodies lie on the dirt, unmoving, while those who survived ran in every direction. The screams were deafening. Meanwhile, the smoking emblem of the Death Eaters loomed overhead, as though watching the ensuing chaos below.
Bill, having found Harry along with the rest of the Weasley clan, summoned the portkey, but not before Ginny began to struggle and yell.
"Where's Luna?!" She cried. "We can't leave her behind!"
Charlie had never spoken with Miss Lovegood, but had seen her during the tournament, and had heard her described more than once in Ron's letters over the years. "I'll find her," he volunteered, turning to Bill. "Get them to the Burrow."
Ginny continued to protest and cry before Bill forced her hand on the portkey, and like that, they were gone.
With his family to safety, Charlie moved quickly, avoiding detection by any of the Death Eaters present. He knew he couldn't risk calling Luna by name, but knew to look for her uniquely blonde, almost platinum hair. Hopefully, that would be enough to identify her
He became anxious as the crowds continued to flee, as he still hadn't come across her. The dust made it almost impossible to see clearly, making this task even more of a challenge. However, he was heartened that among the wreckage of the attack, he had found no bodies resembling her.
That was, of course, until Charlie unceremoniously tripped over a fallen tent and tumbled into an uprooted tree nearby. Wiping his eyes free of dirt, he found himself lying next to none other than Luna Lovegood. Stifling his panic at seeing her unmoving, a quick assessment showed her to be unconscious, but her heartbeat was strong, and her chest was rising and falling at regular intervals.
Picking her up in his arms, Charlie recalled that although he had no portkey, they were close enough to a familiar glen that he could apparate to. Apparation was never his strong suit, and it was an even higher risk considering how long it'd been since he had been in Britain, and how unfamiliar with the land he had become as a result, but it was a risk he was willing to take.
Thankfully, they arrived with no missing limbs or splinches of any sort... However, Charlie noted the bleeding wound on Luna's forehead, most likely acquired after her fall at the stadium cup (he assumed she'd been stunned). Being a dab-hand at healing spells himself (one needed to be, in his line of work), he passed his hand over her forehead, the skin beginning to stitch back together. When he was finished, nothing remained but a faint white mark; only noticeable to those who knew to look.
The soft treading of feet caused Charlie to open his eyes, unaware that he had closed them to begin with. Thankfully, he was now distracted from the unpleasant memories from that awful night from almost a week ago now.
Glancing around him, he observed first that the sun had begun to set, much to his confusion. How long had I been asleep?
His next thought was of Safira. Last he remembered, he'd had his head leaning against her before he drifted… where was she now?
He continued to hear the familiar sound of footsteps on grass, indicating he surely wasn't alone. Turning his head towards the direction the steps were coming from, his breath hitched slightly when he saw the very girl from his memories, Luna Lovegood, several yards away, hand outstretched towards the seemingly aggravated Swedish Short-Snout. Luna didn't appear to be afraid. In fact, the almost dream-like look in her eye was almost akin to that of someone meeting an old friend or loved one.
Safira, on the other hand, was far more anxious. She began to huff and stomp her feet, an indication of the escalating fear she was experiencing.
This was clearly a delicate situation. One wrong move from Luna, or even himself, might cause a potentially dangerous tantrum in the young dragonling. Charlie lowered his voice, whispering, "Miss Lovegood—" but was cut off by a most unexpected sound.
Light, lilting laughter met his ears.
It took a lot to surprise Charlie. Working in his field, he'd been exposed to every kind of situation imaginable, from the daily maintenance and care of dozens of rare dragon breeds, to the frequent and extensive "work-related" injuries accrued as a result. Charlie had the experience under his belt to be able to predict certain behaviors out of his dragons, particularly with the ever-frightened-and-antisocial Safira.
However, as the dragon stood happily nuzzling the outstretched hand of a clearly elated Luna Lovegood, Charlie stood corrected. No, actually, he stood speechless, as the image before him was remarkable. The beginnings of the sunset meant that Luna's billowing, nearly white hair was gilded in a bright, almost heavenly orange glow. As Charlie neared closer, he noted that her blue eyes sparkled in the changing light. Everything he saw, from Safira's reflective scales, to the diaphanous fabric of the summer dress Luna wore, to the tall blades of grass that surrounded them, made the image before Charlie one that he was unlikely to forget.
The sudden snap of a twig under Charlie's boots caused both Luna and the dragon to turn towards him. Luna, remembering herself, was the first to speak. "Mrs. Weasley sent me to come find you," she began, and Charlie was admittedly struck by how gentle her voice sounded. "Dinner is just about ready."
Swallowing a few times, Charlie tried to find his voice. "Thank you," he began, stepping closer to Safira (subsequently Luna). He gently patted the head of the dragon. "I see Safira's taken quite the liking to you," he noted.
Luna turned towards the dragon once more, also placing her hand on her head. "Safira," she spoke reverently. "What a lovely name." She paused for a moment, and Charlie observed as Luna briefly closed her eyes before opening them once more, recognition dawning on her face. "I believe this is the first time we've spoken," she directed towards Charlie, her eyes widening, "I must thank you, for finding me at the World Cup."
Charlie tried to keep a level head as Luna unexpectedly grabbed his hand, as though it were the most normal thing in the world. She gave it a light squeeze. Taking his silence as a sign to continue, Luna explained herself. "I had been following a Crumple-Horned Snorkack when the death eaters showed…" She trailed off, her eyes showing that she was reliving the moment. "I hadn't realized I had gone so far from the tent. I don't suppose I would have made it back, had you not found me," her eyes returned to Charlie's, a new glint in them.
The second eldest Weasley's mouth had gone dry, and he remained uncharacteristically mute in that moment. However, neither Charlie nor Luna seemed to mind as they both focused on the content dragon in front of them. Charlie racked his mind for something to say.
"Your wound," Charlie said as he gestured to the white mark on her forehead. "It's healing rather well, isn't it?" He added lamely, mentally hitting himself. What kind of a comment is that?
Luna beamed at his words, taking him by surprise. "It is. I quite like the color of it," she noted, her eyebrows quirking as she thought. "I can't quite name what it reminds me of, but I like it, all the same."
"Moonlight," Charlie added, diverting his eyes to Safira once more. "It reminds me a bit of moonlight. Rather fitting for your name, isn't it?" Luna let out another wave of that delicate laughter, seeming to agree with him.
There's something about this girl, Charlie mentally noted. She's… different. Not quite what I expected from Ron's letters. There was a sort of… whimsicality, about her presence, one that the second eldest Weasley found himself quite entranced by. And the way Safira, who so fervently dislikes the company of others, seemed to take to her so naturally… There's definitely something about this girl.
He would need to explore and find out what that something was, certainly.
The moments passed, and the sun continued to set before Charlie recalled why Luna had come outside to begin with. "Shall we head inside?" He offered his arm in an unexpected moment of mock-gallantry. Luna's eyes squinted in amusement. Taking the proffered arm, they began a lazy pace to the Burrow. "We shall."