Lost Magic
Ivy sat on a rock and rummaged through her sack for her last bottle of water. She went over in her head the things she'd seen in the past couple days: five dragons in flight--two greens, a red, a black and a blue; one guy on broomstick. For a while, she just replayed the wonder of it all in her head, especially the two green dragons, how the larger one seemed to be teaching the smaller one some of the finer points of flight, rough and gentle at the same time.

She began to wonder where all this fit into her life. The existence of the dragons, broomsticks flying, magic as a real thing. It was a wonderful; it made her happy. But she was angry as well. Angry at the denial of it all. Why was she just now seeing these things? Why did she have to fly halfway around the world and hike for two days to find this out? Why was she just now remembering the mooncalf; why was that precious memory stolen from her?

She stood and began to pace in a small circle on the ridge, sorting things out. So caught up in her own thoughts was she that she didn't hear the approach of another person. Suddenly, she looked up to see that someone had joined her on the ridge. A red-headed man in deep green robes stood before her.

"What? Who are you?" Ivy asked.

"Hullo," the man said. "Is everything okay? You seem lost."

"I'm not lost. I'm fine," Ivy said. She had the feeling of being a trespasser. This fellow, dressed as he was, was obviously one of the broomstick riders.

"Are you sure?" He asked in a friendly voice. "Because if you're lost we can get you out of here. These mountains are tricky and it's easy to lose your way."

"I'm fine, I said."

"Can I ask what you're doing here then? Because this is a restricted area and you need a permit for camping and hiking."

Ivy sat down on the boulder where her sack was and leaned back, one hand casually feeling for a rock to throw or something.

"I have a permit, but it's not here. I'm camping with friends and we were separated."

"If you'd come with me then," said the man, "I can take you to the station and help you connect with your friends."

"I'm fine, I'm not lost."

At that moment, the man removed a wand from within his robes and pointed it at Ivy. Quickly, she grabbed the rock she'd been looking for and threw it at the wizard.

"No!" she screamed. "Not again!"

Instead of pointing the wand at Ivy, the wizard pointed it at the rock as it flew towards him and, with a word, made it disappear. Ivy jumped behind the boulder and grabbed another rock.

"Stay away from me! And drop that...that...stick!" She waved the rock menacingly. "I'm not going to let you steal my memories again."

The wizard smiled slightly but also looked concerned.

"Nobody's trying to steal your memories," he lied.

"Yes, you are. And I won't stand for it."

"If I put down my...stick, will you come away from there and put down that rock?" he asked.

Ivy thought.

"Why?"

"Well, then, we can talk about this," he said.

"About what?"

"For one, why you think I'd steal your memories."

The wizard bent down and laid his wand on a tuft of wildflowers and took a few steps away from it.

"It's happened before. Obviously, I'm not supposed to be here or to see what I've seen. So you're going to try to take that."

The wizard walked towards Ivy, palms up in a gesture that said, it's okay, no one's going to hurt you. Ivy couldn't figure out why she accepted this, but she stood up and came around the rock. The wizard stuck out his hand.

"I'm Charlie Weasley. I'm a naturalist here at the preserve."

Ivy took the hand and gave it a brief shake.

"I'm Ivy Andrews. I'm a visitor here at the preserve."

The wizard smiled.

"See, that wasn't so hard."

"No, it wasn't. So why would you immediately try to steal someone's mind from them when you meet them?"

"Why would you throw a bloody big stone at someone upon meeting?"

"You started it," Ivy said defiantly.

Charlie sat on the rock that she had recently vacated.

"Do you want to tell me what you're doing here? Because this is a restricted area and I do have the authority to ask that question."

"I'm hiking. A friend recommended the area."

"Hmm. And why would you accuse me of stealing your memories?"

"Because you want to make me forget the dragons."

Charlie's eyebrows slowly rose. Consider the ante upped.

"And I don't want to forget the dragons," Ivy continued. "Why would you do that? Why would you take something that precious from me? And why did I have to travel halfway 'round the world to find out for myself that this magical thing is real?"

Charlie sighed.

"Why did you say I'd steal your memories again? We've never met before as far as I can remember."

"No, but it's happened before. When I was a small girl, I saw a mooncalf. And someone came and took that from me. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, the most joyful, and someone stole it from me. That was the worst day of my life. But if you take this from me now, I think it will kill me."

"What have you seen here today?"

Ivy told him about the dragons, about the flying lesson and the figure on the broomstick.

"Where's your broomstick?" she asked.

"I'm not using one today. I'm on ground duty. But why would you assume I'd fly a broomstick?"

Ivy swept a gaze over his robe.

"Well, yeah," he grinned. "The dragons are great, aren't they?"

He gestured for her to sit next to him. She looked dubious at first, but his friendly smile won her over. She sat.

"The greens you saw were native Longhorns. That behavior is rather unusual for a dragon and I'd love to hear more of your impressions of it. The red was probably a Chinese Fireball, though we do have a few red hybrids. Did it have golden spikes on its head? Then that was a Fireball. They're striking, aren't they? Now, the black dragon could have been any number of species."

The wizard was obviously enthusiastic about his subject, Ivy could see. It only took a nod or smile from her for him to go on at length on some tangent about the particular dragon at hand. She watched his face and thought that he was rather handsome and quite a warm person.

"If he wasn't such an evil bastard to be messing with my brain," she wryly noted to herself.

At a break in his rambles, he asked her about the mooncalf and she told him what she remembered. It was so long ago that it seemed like a dream to her.

Suddenly, the wizard held out his hand and spoke.

"Retrevio," he said.

The flowers that were next to his wand uprooted and flew to his hand. He studied them for a moment with a little consternation then turned to Ivy.

"I guess these are for you," he said with a shrug.

She glared at him as she grabbed the bunch from him.

"So, now what?" she asked.

"Well, I've failed miserably at stealing your memories," he said with a serious expression. "Would you like to make some more?"

She studied him for a moment. He seemed sincere. And besides, she thought to herself, this is what is known as an impasse.

"I'd like that," she said with a guarded smile.

He stood and began to walk in the direction from which he first appeared, retrieving his wand on the way and tucking it into his robe. Ivy grabbed her bag and followed.

"Normally," he said over his shoulder, "We don't allow Muggles in this area."

"What's a muggle?" she asked.

"Well, you are," he said. "A non-magical person."

"Actually, I don't think I'm without my charms," she harumphed.

He grinned.

"I don't doubt that. Still, I don't know how you could have gotten past the Muggle-repelling spells around the perimeter. Very odd, that. But here you are."

"Here I am," she agreed.

"I can't make any promises, but you seem to have the right attitude. I'll have to take you in to headquarters for evaluation. They may decide to give you special permission to be here. Or they could opt to erase your memory of the whole thing."

She frowned.

"I'm serious when I say I don't know what that would do to me. Are you prepared to have that on your conscience?"

Charlie didn't answer.

"Are we going to headquarters then?" she asked.

"I can't take you now," he said. "If I'd brought my broomstick, we could fly in, but I really have been pulling some ground duty this week. I've been apparating back to my tent nights, but you can't do that so we'll have to walk. And really, I'm not supposed to leave my area until the end of the shift. If you promise to remain mostly harmless, I could let you tag along with me for the next couple days."

"Mostly harmless?" she said with mock dread.

"Well, the rock and all. I mean, really."

"Must be quite amusing for you seeing as how you could turn me into a newt at the drop of a hat," she said. "Or the wave of a wand."

"Yes, well, just keep that in mind," he laughed. "I've been out this week checking nests...." And Ivy began a lesson in the life cycle of the dragon.





After a while of hiking in silence, Charlie pointed up a ridge.

"Tents up that way. Nearly there now."

As they topped the hill, Ivy saw an old-fashioned canvas camp tent nestled among a stand of pines. It's picturesque, she thought, but these wizards really need to learn about the wonders of nylon.

"It's rather small," said Ivy. "Is there room?"

"It's small, but I can spell up a little extra room for you," he grinned.

Ivy was not prepared for experience of walking into a wizard tent for the first time. From the outside, the tent was a simple 6'x 8' affair of natural cotton canvas. Stepping inside, Ivy found a large room easily 15'x 30'. The walls were tent-like, but more opulent than the cotton outside, rather resembling something you'd expect to find in a desert sheik's tent. The ground was strewn with Persian rugs and the furniture was Victorian, all solid, dark wood and overstuffed cushions. Charlie dropped his bag on a large mahogany desk which sat in one corner of the tent. It was covered with papers and books, mostly depicting dragons of different species at various lifestages from egg to skeleton. Behind the desk, a half-opened flap revealed a second room which appeared to serve as a work room. Partially seen behind a Japanese screen in another corner sat a beautiful brass bed with fluffy pillows and a down comforter of white lace. In the center of the tent was a small sitting area with tea table upon which rested a fully prepared tea service with a steaming pot of tea. The whole thing was lit with elaborate copper lanterns.

Ivy stepped back outside and looked at the tent again. She lifted the flap and looked at the interior. Charlie smiled to her.

"It's not my tent; it's a loaner from a friend."

"You must have some friends," Ivy said, coming in again.

"I do," he agreed. "Would you like to have some tea now? It's ready."

"That'd be great! I'm starving."

"Would you like something more substantial?" He gestured with his wand.

"Oh, no, not now. The tea will be great to get me started."

She went and joined Charlie in the sitting area, watching him ready the tea. She nodded her assent to the milk, but declined the lemon. When the tray was passed, she helped herself to a scone with clotted cream and jam initially, but ended up with some watercress sandwiches and biscuits as well. After she declined anything more, Charlie finished off the tray.

"Those cookies were really great," she said. "Do you make them yourself? Or magic them up? Or how in the world do you get them?"

"Me mum," he said. "She worries about me eating so she sends care packages via owl at least once a week. Poor owl."

"Owl?"

Charlie gave her a look of gentle exasperation.

"I'm beginning to see why it's easier to keep Muggles in the dark."

Ivy frowned. "Please stop calling me that," she said. "It sounds so unpleasant."

"It's just a word," he said. "It's not meant to be anything bad. It's not like mudblood or anything. It just means you have no magic."

"Yes, and I told you my opinion on that. I just don't like the word and I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't use it."

"Alright, I'll try to remember."

After a bit, Charlie led her to the desk and showed her some books about the dragons she'd seen. They decided the black dragon had been a Norwegian Ridgeback.

"That may have been Norbert!" Charlie exclaimed. "He's a special pet of mine. Came from an old friend."

They sat up late, poring over the books. Eventually, Charlie called up a sandwich tray and they had mugs of English ale with that. While they ate, he explained what the goals of the preserve were and what they did to help accomplish those goals. He seemed very proud of the work.

Finally, as Ivy began to nod off, Charlie closed the book before them.

"If we want to be up in the morning to actually see a few of these things, we ought to get to sleep for the night. I'll let you have my bed and I'll conjure up something."

Ivy protested, but Charlie insisted. She watched as he moved the furniture of the sitting area around then raised his arms for another spell.

"Dormiabonas."

An ample but austere camp cot appeared. Ivy protested again.

"Charlie, I can't let you sleep in that. I'll take the cot and you can have your bed."

"I wouldn't hear of it," he smiled. "Besides, this isn't just any old cot. The spell was devised by an old travelling witch now known only as Ingrid the Indulgent. It calls up a bed that appears appropriate for the locale, but which feels like a Sussex feather bed, complete with comforter and hot water bottle. I daresay I'll sleep better than you tonight, Ivy. Of course, if you'd like me to call you up a hot water bottle, I'd be glad."

"That won't be necessary," Ivy said, shaking her head in disbelief.

She ventured to the corner behind the screen. A soft lamp glowed on the bedside table and a book of poetry was open to "An Homage to Dragonkind" by Winsley Beauchamp-Snoot.

"Charlie?" She called softly over the screen.

"Yes?"

"Thank you for not stealing my memories."