Note: Hello! So clearly I haven't made a story cover for this yet – I'm half-way through making one. I hoped I'd finish it before I finished the chapter, but in the end I decided an update would have to take precedence. It'll be up soon! Anyway, sorry it's late, but enjoy the chapter and please review. :)
The Luck of the Irish
The Weasleys spent their second day in Egypt being shown around the secret wizarding tombs in the Valley of the Kings. Bill led them into the shadowy corners and through the hidden doorways that seemed to slip unnoticed past the eyes of the Muggle tourists surging around. Charlie was relieved to be out of the blazing midday sun, but he was also quickly thankful for his strong stomach. Ron had turned slightly green, while Percy suddenly became very interested in the runes around the entrance. "I think that explains why I asked Mum and Ginny to wait outside this one," Bill said grimly. "Nasty curse, very nasty."
"Flesh eating, I presume?" asked their father, peering over his glasses at the unfortunate, and long dead, Muggle archaeologist. "Why do you suppose it only lasted as long as the arms?"
"Don't know." Bill's smile was dark. "I guess it's crueller that way."
A sombre, if morbidly curious, mood descended.
It was soon shattered. Out of one the darkened corners, came an ominous clicking sound. Percy jumped. "Boys, boys – please – " Mr Weasley pleaded, because Fred and George had started a mock sword fight with the bones of some poor wizarding Pharaoh.
Back at the hotel that evening, Bill and Charlie's conversation turned to work. They'd barely had time to speak since Charlie moved to Romania. Once their parents and younger siblings had gone to bed, they were left alone in the dining room. "Percy was just telling me his thoughts on various Ministry departments," said Bill, "and which he'd most like to join when he leaves Hogwarts."
"And what did he choose?"
"Nothing, yet. He was torn between the Department of International Magical Cooperation and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement." Bill laughed wickedly. "The way it's going, I reckon we'll end up with the most exciting jobs in the family."
Exciting? Charlie's head filled with memories: endless evenings eating watery stew and raw vegetables with Sam, Anna teaching him how to play chess and then admitting half-way through that she wasn't entirely sure of the rules herself and reading the same issues of Which Broomstick? over and over while waiting for a rainstorm to pass. Working with dragons wasn't always as exciting as you'd think.
"I think Fred and George, at least, have got big plans," Charlie said. "I can't imagine them doing a Percy and getting a desk job somehow." It went without saying that whatever the twins did, it would be together. Bill and Charlie couldn't imagine anything else.
"I'll agree to that," Bill chuckled. "How are you finding Romania then? Bit of a change from home."
That was the thing: only then did Charlie realise that the definition of 'home' was changing. It wasn't necessarily the sleepy hills of Devon anymore. His head was full of dragons.
"They scored."
"Shit."
"They scored! Transylvania scored again. I can't believe it! 30-nil down and we're not even ten minutes in."
Anna was walking a few paces ahead, her broom slung over her shoulder, but she whipped around at the sound of their voices. "You two had better be talking about the Peruvian Vipertooths," she told them threateningly. "We don't pay you to share chat-up lines or whatever it is you're doing – "
"Transylvania scored again," Charlie burst out, unable to contain his disappointment.
"What?" At that, Anna dropped her Cleansweep on the ground and rushed back to Charlie and Sam. "So what's the score now?" They all leaned over the portable wireless tucked under Sam's arm. The tinny roar of a Quidditch stadium crackled out of it.
"Still 30 points to nil," Charlie said morosely. They slowly walked on, no one talking; Anna retrieved her broom, but didn't take her eyes off the radio.
Sam smirked. "Peruvian Vipertooths not so important anymore, eh?"
Anna waved his words away. "Never mind them. They're not going anywhere."
"...Matthews passes to Williams, on to Bradshaw..." The commentator's voice was oddly muffled by Sam's old wireless. "Oooh! Quaffle is intercepted by Constantin! Constantin racing down the left, Transylvania still in possession. He dodges a Bludger, he dodges the Keeper – oh, oh dear – "
There was an explosion of swearing. Charlie could feel England's chances of a World Cup semi-final slipping away. He felt a headache coming on.
"It's funny game," Sam was saying, "they're thrashing us, but if our Seeker could just find a flash of inspiration – "
Charlie snorted and Anna shook her head vigorously. "With Carter as Seeker?" she said.
"He's useless."
"Worse than useless!"
Sam rolled his eyes skyward. "Oh yeah, I forgot you two were the authorities on all things Seeker."
"Come on," Anna said, gesturing for them to hurry up. "We'll listen as we go."
A year had passed since Charlie's return from Egypt and he had since qualified as a full-time dragon tamer. His days were largely taken up pouring over books and statistics for his research. Evenings were spent on his broom, either playing five-a-side with Sam when they could get a team together or flying across the mountains. Thankfully his cooking skills had improved so he no longer had to rely on the village Inn for sustenance. Day to day, Charlie didn't have a great deal of contact with the dragons. This, he knew, was normal. Dragons didn't like people and people – sane, sensible ones, anyway – didn't like dragons. He came into close contact with them only every few weeks and only if he was accompanied by Anna and his colleagues. Today was one of those days – they were tracking a group of Peruvian Vipertooths in order to find out why they had left their usual territory.
Their path grew increasingly rocky and began to climb steeply upwards, winding through the hills. Suddenly, the ground evened out, before disappearing completely. They'd arrived at the edge of a shallow valley once populated by the Vipertooths. They peered down into the brown waste below. "What are those?" Charlie asked, pointing at the grey mounds dotted all around; from their vantage point, they were the size of pin-pricks. "Piles of ash?"
Anna lifted her omnioculars to her eyes. "You're half right," she said, fiddling with the dials. "Charred sheep bones, by the looks of it. But they're old. The dragons haven't been here for a long while."
"Damn!" Anna and Charlie jolted and swung their heads in Sam's direction. He was holding the wireless to his ear, and judging by the sour expression on his face, it'd given him some very bad news. "Penalty to Transylvania," he told them, in the same low voice someone might use when reporting a death. "Aaaand... yes, they've scored it. Brilliant."
Charlie winced. "The score now?"
"60-nil."
But before Charlie could throw his head in his hands and scream, Anna was tugging at his arm. "Come on," she insisted. "We'll mourn later, okay?" She led the way down the dusty track into the heart of the valley. Charlie and Sam followed in silence, ears trained on the crackle of the wireless.
"I've got a vial of antidote in my bag," Anna told them. "Although... if either of you get near enough to the Vipertooths to get bitten, I don't hold out much hope of you getting back to base in one piece."
"I'm not too worried about that right now," Sam said, looking around. "Not a Vipertooth in sight."
"We'll head west," Anna decided, leading the way once more. They passed the piles of sheep bones and patches of dried, scorched grass; signs that dragons had long since departed the area. The low, distant voice of the Quidditch commentator was the only noise that accompanied them. Charlie likened it to a funeral march.
"...Bradshaw attempts a pass... Oooh, bad luck! Immediately intercepted by Dumitru, onto Constantin who dodges Mitchell's Bludger, onto Dalca down the right. It's Dalca and the Keeper, it's – it's – 160-nil." There was a pause in the commentary. "Merlin, getting a bit embarrassing, isn't it?"
"Getting?" Charlie started to say, but he didn't get any further because Anna had stopped abruptly and he almost walked into her. "What is it?"
She simply sighed and pointed. Charlie felt his stomach twist when he realised what she was looking at. Roughly fifty feet away were two mounds – bronze, scaly and shining dully in the afternoon sun. They were too large to be another heap of sheep's bones, but just the right size for a Peruvian Vipertooth. They were the smallest of the dragon breeds – only fifteen feet in length – and, like all dragons, they would never willingly choose to sleep in such an open area during daylight hours. This left only one explanation.
The boys stopped and waited as Anna peered through the omnioculars. "Not breathing," she muttered. "Definitely dead... We're safe to approach."
Merlin. Charlie wondered how much grimmer his day could get.
He didn't have to wait long to find out.
"I think I need to do an autopsy," Anna said, at the same time as Sam gasped, "200-nil!"
So grim.
Before this, Charlie had not known what people meant when they said they could smell death. Now, upon reaching the dead dragons, his face screwed up involuntarily and he knew he would be remembering the moment for days to come. It was quickly obvious how the Vipertooths had died. Both of their thin necks were pierced deeply and oozing green-ish blood.
"Do you think... they killed each other?" Even as Charlie asked this, he knew how unlikely it sounded.
"No, can't have done." Anna's eyes flickered quickly across the crumpled dragons. She was frowning. "It'd be a massive leap to suggest they fought, inflicted identical injuries on each other and then both died from them. But not only that, the wounds are too wide. Vipertooths have narrow teeth, see? Those wounds are about two inches wide and, if I'm not mistaken, we've wandered into the Horntail's territory."
"A Horntail killed them?"
"Almost certainly," Anna sighed. "Still no idea why they moved out of their own territory in the first place, though. And it's worrying, really worrying. Vipertooths are so vicious and there were two of them and they wouldn't have gone down without a fight."
Suddenly Charlie was on her wavelength. "Vipertooths have extremely venomous fangs. If they nipped the Horntail in the struggle..."
Anna nodded grimly. "We could have a dead Horntail on our hands too."
"WE SCORED!"
They had forgotten about Sam who had slunk off to sit on a rock with the wireless. It fell off his lap with a crack as he leapt up and punched the air.
"Sam!" Anna said, exasperated. "We're in the middle of Horntail territory and you're yelling like a banshee." Her lips twitched. "Who scored for us?"
"Matthews," said Sam. "Anyone smell a comeback?"
"All I can smell is decomposing dragon," Charlie muttered. He didn't hold out much hope for a glorious revival. The way he saw it, Transylvania had been toying with them for forty minutes and now that they'd shown the faintest flicker of life, it would be swiftly crushed.
"Help me over here, Charlie." Anna had drawn her wand. She aimed it at the first dragon. "Diffindo!"
"Oh, Merlin!"
"Don't be squeamish, Weasley!" she said cheerfully, beckoning him over.
All in all, it wasn't the best of days. He ended up kneeling in dragon innards while Sam recounted the Transylvanian Seeker, Balog, diving for the Snitch and England crashing out of the World Cup 390 points to 10.
"Ireland are still in it," Anna reminded them, wiping a streak of dark green blood from her cheek. "You never know. They might win it yet."
On a rainy morning, several weeks later, a mysterious message appeared on the dining room message board.
Emergency research meeting! Attendance is compulsory, not optional. My office, 8pm tomorrow.
A. Wilson
Charlie groaned. "Why tomorrow? If it's an emergency, why can't we do it tonight?"
"Does it matter?" Keavy was reading the note over Charlie and Sam's shoulders.
"Ireland are playing Peru in the World Cup semi-final tomorrow night," Sam explained. "I thought you, at least, might be interested," he added.
She shrugged and wandered away. "I've never been bothered by Quidditch, really."
Charlie was barely listening, though. He was genuinely horrified. They had it all planned out: he and Sam were going to head to the pub early and grab a prime corner – equal distance from the bar and the toilets – and listen to the match on the wireless. He wondered if Anna knew the Ireland v Peru game was on tomorrow... maybe she'd forgotten? For a fleeting moment, he considered going to tell her what she'd done. Surely she'd want to listen to the game herself? Then he remembered his last disastrous visit to her office and changed his mind.
So the next evening, just as the match was due to start, Charlie and Sam sloped along the corridor to Anna's office. They were all out of ideas. Charlie could not think of any excuse that was sufficiently believable, but would also get him out of the meeting, no questions asked. Sudden case of dragon pox? Or perhaps his broom had been eaten by a Romanian Longhorn and he needed to go into town and replace it and it absolutely couldn't wait. "I hope this doesn't take long," Sam said when they reached the door.
"And the Snitch takes ages to catch," Charlie added.
They walked in – and blinked. Green. Everything was green.
Anna came bounding through the crowds of students towards them. She was wearing green as well. "I know what you're thinking," she said, though Charlie doubted it. "And yes, as a proud Gryffindor, I don't usually like to dress all in green – but this is important and – "
"There's no meeting, is there?" Charlie interrupted.
"Uh, no."
"And this was all a ruse?"
"A brilliant ruse."
The walls were draped with huge posters of the Irish Quidditch team and an Irish flag. Hanging over her desk, where her wireless sat, was a poster bearing the cheerily optimistic statement, 'Come on Ireland!' Charlie couldn't fight a grin. She was right. It was brilliant.
"Wouldn't it have been easier to, I don't know, meet at the pub?" Sam suggested, looking around in amazement at the shamrock bedecked walls.
Anna shook her head. "No, actually. Mr Ridgebit's in the pub."
"So?"
"So he's meeting with some high-ranking members of the Romanian Ministry and we are all, in his words,'expressly not welcome.'"
Sam clapped her on the shoulder. "Fair play, miss. I'm going to grab a Butterbeer. Coming, Charlie?"
"In a moment," Anna answered for him. As Sam disappeared across the room, she drew Charlie to one side, muttering very fast in his ear.
"Sorry," he said. "Say that again."
"You heard me." She sounded embarrassed, as if she couldn't bear to say it again.
"Something about money on Ireland?"
She shifted from one foot to the other and wouldn't meet his eyes. "Erm," she mumbled, "kind of. I put a bet on Ireland to win." She inhaled deeply. "Ireland to win by two hundred points."
"Bloody hell, Anna!" Ireland were good, that much was obvious. They were favourites for the tournament. But were they that good? "You know the Peruvian Keeper's a genius, right?"
"I know, I know!" She was twisting a strand of curly hair round and round her finger as though starting to seriously doubt her decision. "That's how I got such good odds."
"How much did you bet?" By the look on her face, Charlie scarcely wanted to ask.
"Uhh... let's just say a lot and leave it at that."
"Anna!"
"Oh, what?" she snapped, and suddenly he saw a flash of temper, the fiery Gryffindor side of her, flare up for the first time. "Don't lecture me, Weasley, okay? I had to do it."
Charlie folded his arms over his chest. Why was he rising to this? "Really? You had to?"
"Yeah," she said, "if I win this bet, I can afford tickets to the World Cup."
Behind them, students and fellow colleagues began to gather around the wireless; the match was beginning. "Come on, Charlie!" Sam called, and he flung him a bottle of Butterbeer.
"Sure, mate. One moment." Charlie turned back to Anna. "Let me get this straight: you don't earn enough money to afford a ticket without making an insane bet? I find it a bit difficult to believe."
"'Course I earn enough," she whispered. "But most of my wages, well... I send them to my Mum. And anyway, I'd need two tickets. I can't go without her."
Charlie couldn't pretend to understand where she was coming from. All he knew was that Ireland's chances of winning by such a huge margin in such a crucial game were incredibly slim. Like her, they already had one eye on the final. Aidan Lynch would have the Snitch in his hand long before the Chasers could rack up that many points.
Charlie was almost sure of it. But looking into Anna's earnest face, he knew, right then, that he wanted nothing more than to be proven wrong.