"Common Welsh Green," Charlie repeated for what was probably the tenth time. "That's the small one, over there. The red one is a --"
"Wait!" Ivy stopped him. "That's a Chinese Fireball."
"Exactly," Charlie grinned then stuffed another bite of a roast beef-on-rye sandwich into his mouth. They were sitting under a billowing green silk tent, its sides rolled up to allow the autumn breeze free access to the nine other wizards taking their turn at a lunch break. The other twenty stood guard over four of the most gloriously frightening beasts Ivy'd ever laid eyes on: the dragons brought in from Romania for the first task of the Triwizard Tournament.
"Alright then, Miss Dragon Expert. Which one's the Horntail?"
"Too easy, Charlie," Ivy grinned. "It's the one with the horned tail. And the last one's a... wait..."
Charlie squirmed in his chair and opened his mouth but Ivy waved her turkey-and-Swiss in his face. "Don't tell me! A Swedish Small-Nose. No... That's not right. Squash-Snout? Ummm..."
"Short-Snout," Charlie pretended to cough out the word.
"No fair! You told me," Ivy whined.
"It's a'right, Miss Ivy, he won' be givin' ya a test when it's over," said one of the other dragon keepers in a decidedly Scottish accent.
"Nah!" shouted another. "There'll be no test. At least not a test on dragons. It's the one-on-one study time Weasley prefers. "
The tent roared with good-natured laughter as Charlie rose to his feet in mock anger.
"Sit down," Ivy told him. "And finish your lunch. Your shift's coming up in a minute."
"You tell 'im Miss Ivy," the wizard beside her said. Ivy flashed him a grin, then stood to her feet. Something off in the distance caught her attention.
"Who's that walking with Professor Dumbledore?" she asked as Charlie sat down. But she didn't wait for his reply. There was something familiar about the way the sun glinted off the headmaster's companion. Something about his gait that Ivy knew as well as she knew her own soul. As they approached across the sea of thick green grass, she dropped her sandwich to her plate and ran toward them.
"Grey-Grand!" she shouted, throwing herself into his arms. "What on earth are you doing here?"
The two older men exchanged glances, then smiled at Ivy, who's face fell as she stood before them.
"Is anything wrong? Has something happened?"
"No, no, my dear," Mr. Ollivander assured her. "I am only here to make sure that each champion in the Triwizard Tournament has fully functional equipment, that's all."
"He's just finished testing each champion's wand," Professor Dumbledore interpreted, smiling graciously. "And I thought perhaps he might enjoy joining his great-granddaughter for lunch. Really, Ivy. I was beginning to wonder if I should be hurt that you hadn't come to visit us sooner."
Ivy blushed a little and studied the grass beneath her feet. "Well I... you see," she sputtered, not knowing what to say. "Charlie Weasley is an old friend. He brought me here to see the dragons."
"Ah, yes," Dumbledore sighed, stepping forward toward the lunch tent. "Fascinating creatures, aren't they? I don't suppose I'll get much work out of my Care of Magical Creatures Professor until they're gone. You did tell Mr. Weasley to count his eggs?"
Ivy laughed and fell in step beside her great-grandfather, happily taking his arm. "I'd check all his pockets before they leave too, if I were you."
"Noted, Ivy," The Headmaster nodded, his moustache twitching. "Do you mind if two old wizards join your party?"
"Of course not," Ivy murmured. She showed them to where she'd been sitting with Charlie, feeling for a moment as though they were back in the Three Broomsticks, and she was waiting their table.
Charlie came by to greet Dumbledore and Mr. Ollivander. "Sorry I can't stay and chat. Got to take my turn watching over the beasties." He rounded the table and kissed Ivy on the cheek. "But you're in good company. I'll see you in a bit." He directed the last toward Ivy, who nodded and gave him a wave.
"I haven't seen Charlie Weasley since your mother died," Mr. Ollivander said, bringing his wand out of the sleeve of his robe. He pointed to an empty plate where he sat and muttered "Corned beef on rye." Immediately his plate was filled. Professor Dumbledore did the same.
"How are things in Hogsmeade, Ivy?" Mr. Ollivander asked as he started eating his lunch. "Tell us about your new home."
Ivy's eyes lit up, and she told them about her brand new wallpaper.
"Dragons in every room. That's what I get for asking a dragon keeper to help decorate."
"And how is dear Madam Rosmerta?" Dumbledore inquired. "Has she had any word from our friend, Remus Lupin?"
Ivy was captured by the ageless sparkle in his eye.
"Umm... no," she told him. "We haven't had word. Unless she has and just didn't tell me."
"I suppose love letters would be considered private business, yes," Dumbledore returned.
Ivy stared at Dumbledore open-mouthed. Was it possible that anything slipped by this man?
"My dear," Her great-grandfather spoke again, fixing his gaze on her neck. "Whatever has happened there?" He reached out and pointed a bony finger at the mark left on Ivy by the Vampire's Kiss.
Ivy's face went red. She turned away for a moment then looked back, still not sure if a magical person would have been able to avoid the attack, and so at a loss as to how to proceed.
"It's nothing... really," she muttered, her hand covering up the mark of its own accord. "Just one of the hazards of working at a pub, I suppose." She tried on smile, but failed miserably.
"Ivy," Mr. Ollivander said in a steely voice. "That mark came from a Vampire, did it not?"
"Oh, Grey-Grand... It's no big deal. Hagrid knew the counter-curse. I'm fine. Really." Her eyes went wide as she imagined him ordering her home.
As if in answer to her greatest fear, Ollivander addressed her again. "Perhaps this Hogsmeade experiment has failed."
"No!" Ivy insisted, quietly in order not to air all her dirty laundry in public. "Grey-Grand, please... everything's fine. I..."
Ivy was shocked into silence as Professor Dumbledore spoke. Of all the people she could have imagined coming to her rescue, the headmaster had never entered her mind.
"Your great-granddaughter is an asset to our community in Hogsmeade, Ollivander. She's one of us now. You'd have most of the townspeople on your head if you tried to get her to leave us."
Ivy swallowed hard. Tears burned the back of her eyelids at Professor Dumbledore's compliment, especially the part about considering her as one of us.
"Perhaps the only experiment that failed is the one your grandson attempted when he thought he could turn her into a Muggle." He leaned forward as if to share a secret. "I always sided with Elana on that one, my dear."
Silence hung over the little group for a moment, as Ivy realized that Professor Dumbledore knew a lot more than whether her best friend received love letters or not. Finally Mr. Ollivander reached out and grasped Ivy's hand.
"I've always trusted Albus, here, Ivy. If he thinks you should stay, then I won't bring up your leaving again. I apologize, if my rashness has taken a bit of the joy from your day." He leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek with quivering lips.
Ivy threw her arms around him and squeezed his bony shoulders.
"I love you, Grey-Grand," she whispered into his ear.
"I know, I know," he said, smiling again. He patted her hand. The two finished up their lunch, and then Mr. Ollivander stood to his feet. Professor Dumbledore and Ivy did likewise.
"I must get back to the wand shop," he announced, adjusting his robes. "Bad for business, me being away."
Ivy laughed and helped him with his collar. She smoothed down the fabric that draped over his shoulders, then gave his arms a squeeze.
"It's been wonderful to see you again. I'll be coming to Diagon Alley soon to pick out some furniture. I'll stop in and see you."
"You'd better," he murmured leaning forward to kiss her good-bye, then offered a half-bow to Professor Dumbledore.
"Always a pleasure, Albus," he said. Then he muttered a few words over his outstretched wand and disappeared.
Ivy found herself once again studying the grass beneath her feet. After an awkward silence she turned her sea green eyes on Professor Dumbledore.
"So you knew my mother," she said glancing up at him.
Professor Dumbldore nodded and offered her his arm. They began strolling toward the thick wooden fence behind which the dragons strained at their tethers.
"I've known your family for years," he confessed. "And I've known about you since before you were born. I suppose I am to blame for the discovery that you would be born without magical abilities."
Ivy loved him for not calling her a Squib.
"He asked me to tell him what you had in store for your future. A practice I don't usually advocate for parents-to-be, but your family and I go back for years and years. I read star charts and tea leaves, gazed into crystals, and they all said the same thing: an Ollivander would be born without magic, but find it along the way. I used to wonder if that meant you would be... as they say... a late bloomer. But the more I looked, the more it became clear. No magic for Ivy Ollivander. At least not the kind you can swish-and-flick."
He got quiet for a long time, and Ivy was content to walk beside him while he lost himself in memories.
"It's been quite an extraordinary day for you, hasn't it?" he said as they completed the circle around the dragon compound. Ivy agreed.
"The tears you cried this morning won't be your last, my dear," he continued. "But they will be the last you cry for Elana. You've been given a gift today. You laid Elana to rest when you cried on Mr. Weasley's shoulder. Did you know?"
Ivy contemplated him for a moment, the long, flowing whiskers that reached nearly to his knees, the twinkle in his eyes that encouraged her and gave her peace. In that moment she thought she could see why he was considered the most powerful wizard of the age.
"I thought something happened," she told him. "But didn't know what. I know I feel different. Better. Like a heavy rock's been lifted off my shoulders."
"Expatrios are extremely powerful spells. Perhaps some of Hagrid's counter-curse is still working on your behalf. Still driving tormentors out of your spirit the day after the vampire attacked you. His eyes narrowed as he leaned toward her. "Love is a fearsome magic, Ivy. It's the most precious of gifts."
She nodded in wonder, afraid to say a word for fear it would break the spell that had enveloped them.
"Speaking of Hagrid," Dumbledore announced, adjusting his robes. "Here he comes now. No giant headmistress in tow." He spoke the last into her ear and Ivy laughed as his whiskers tickled.
"I have enjoyed our afternoon together," he said, as they watched Hagrid walk in their direction. "One last thing, Ivy."
Ivy took her eyes off Hagrid and focused on the Headmaster.
"Keep that dog of yours well fed, will you? Tell him I request that he stay close until the Tournament is over."
Ivy's eyes widened, but she recovered quickly, a skill she decided she'd have to master if she was to spend much more time with Dumbledore.
"I will," she agreed, eyes dancing in delight. "Promise."
He took her hand and kissed it in a most gentlemanly fashion, continuing to hold it as he greeted Hagrid.
"Miss Ollivander and I have counted each and every egg, Hagrid," he announced, moustache twitching merrily. "We will count them again once the task is complete. And I don't want either of you attempting to climb this fence in my absence. It's too late in the year to replace a professor for Care of Magical Creatures."
"Perfesser Dumbledore," Hagrid greeted them, hitching his thumbs around his thick belt. "Ivy."
"I must leave the fair Miss Ollivander in your care now," Dumbledore said, offering Hagrid the hand he still held. Hagrid held his hand out, bowing at the waist.
"I'll make sure she's safe, Perfesser."
"Thank you."
For a moment Ivy thought she caught Professor Dumbledore's lips moving as he placed her hand in Hagrid's, but when he was gone, and she and Hagrid stood alone in the lengthening shadows, she decided it was only a trick of the sun. Hagrid's thumb rolled across her fingers and she couldn't help but marvel one more time at how tiny her hand looked when resting in his. Their eyes locked, and his narrowed as they took in the mark at her throat.
"Aint' seen them vampire fellers down the pub no more 'ave yeh?" he asked, dropping her hand. His voice sounded strained, and he was showing a lot of interest in the thick wooden boards used to fence in the dragons. Ivy shook her head.
"No vampires," she assured him. She had to step up onto the first board to see over the top of the fence.
"That's a Hungarian Horntail," she said, proudly showing off what she'd learned from Charlie.
"And that red one over there, it's a Japanese Fireball."
"Chinese," Hagrid corrected softly, wiping away at something in his eye. "It's a Chinese Fireball. It can shoot fire near twenty feet. Beautiful, i'n't it?"
She flashed him a grin and tiptoed on the board to get a better look. "Absolutely gorgeous. I wonder what their babies will look like when they hatch."
Hagrid grunted. "I'll show ya a picture a Norbert, next time yer here. Got one up at the cabin."
Ivy didn't say anything, content to watch the scaly-skinned beasts with Hagrid at her side. All in all, it had been an extraordinary day, and she didn't want to ruin it with words.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"He was amazing!" Ivy announced from behind the bar as she and Charlie, Rose, Hagrid and Renfroe celebrated the outcome of the first Triwizard Tournament task.
"Outstanding," Renfroe the barkeep agreed.
"Outrageous," Rose grinned, bringing a flagon of mulled mead to her lips.
"I knew 'e could do it," Hagrid boasted. "We're talkin' 'bout Harry, here. He's a thumpin' good li'l wizard."
"Summoning his broom to get around that Horntail was bloody brilliant," Charlie concurred. "You'll all be glad to know that Mum was ecstatic when she heard he'd made it out alive."
"And did I hear that the next task's not until February?" Ivy asked, face still flushed with excitement. "That'll give them a bit of a break." The pub was beginning to fill up with spectators bent on celebrating the outcome of the first task.
"Speaking of breaks, I may as well announce this now," Rose said. "The pub's closing for Christmas this year. Hogwarts is having a big affair, and Ivy and I are going to take a little vacation. You'll be off that week, too, Renfroe. And Ivy and I can go furniture hunting so she can move into her little house."
A surprised silence hung over the bar, but only for a moment.
"What's going on at Hogwarts?" Ivy asked.
"We're havin' a Yule Ball," Hagrid explained, a crimson blush sneaking across his cheeks. "It's part a the Tournament. To pr'mote some international app'reciation or summat."
"International unity and understanding, at least that's what Dumbledore said. "Rose continued. "We'll have to plan a New Year's party so we can get together and exchange our Christmas presents. Or give them out early. Either way, Ivy and I are going to London for the holidays."
Ivy gave Rose a puzzled look. London would not have been her first choice for Christmas travel. There was always the possibility there of running into her father.
"I wouldn't mind spending Christmas in London myself," Charlie grinned. "As it is, I'm heading back to Romania first thing tomorrow. We've got to get those dragons home as soon as we can."
"Already?" Ivy pouted. "I was hoping you might get to stay for a while."
"I must see to my ladies, Ivy. Got to get them tucked in for winter or we may lose even more of our eggs."
"Wou'dn't wan' that ta happ'n," Hagrid pointed out.
Charlie stood to his feet. "Actually, I should probably head out now. It's a long trip, any way you look at it." He shook Hagrid's hand, then slapped him on the shoulder. "Always a pleasure seeing you, Hagrid. Be sure to take care of these ladies for me, will you?"
Hagrid gave a most solemn nod. "Yer doin' a great job wi' them dragons. Glad ta see ya stuck wi' it."
Charlie returned his nod. "Nice to meet you Mr. Renfroe," he continued, shaking his hand across the bar. "And Rosmerta. I always enjoy your company. Thanks for getting our Ivy back for us."
He embraced Rose, then released her, which left only Ivy.
"Could I..." he gave Rose an apologetic glance. "Can I borrow your bar maid for a minute or two?"
Rose patted his shoulder and nodded, then looked at Ivy. "Take as long as you need."
"But the pub's awful busy..." Ivy pointed out as she rounded the bar.
"Renfroe and I can handle the pub," Rose reminded. "And if we have to we'll put Hagrid to work serving tables."
Ivy left her apron on the bar and took Charlie's hand. He led her out to the street.
"I'd ask you to walk me back to Hogwarts, but then you'd have to walk back here alone." Charlie said, making his way through the crowd.
"I don't think I'd be alone," Ivy returned, pointing out the people still streaming in from the castle. "I wish you could stay a little longer."
"Me too, but duty calls. I can't leave all the grunt work to the other keepers. But it's been really good seeing you again."
Ivy grinned, forcing down the lump that began rising in her throat. "I hope you'll come back, soon."
"Are you kidding? Now that I know you're here, I'll be sure to pop in whenever I visit the Burrow."
"Really?"
"Promise."
"The dragons are awesome," she continued, suddenly at a loss for words. "I can see why you want to be with them."
"Ivy," Charlie murmured. He pulled her close and she answered his embrace with a fierce one of her own. "Keep Hagrid straight, won't you?"
She nodded against his shoulder.
"And you'll tell me the minute you meet the future Mrs. Weasley?"
Charlie gave a short laugh and tugged at the end of her braid. "You should wear your hair down more often, Ivy. It suits you." He untied the ribbon that secured her hair, smoothed it between his fingers a few times, then stuck it in his shirt pocket. Then he kissed her good-bye. Their lips met once, then again and again. Tears formed behind Ivy's eyelids and splashed down her cheeks when she ventured to open them.
"I love you, Charlie Weasley. You be careful with those dragons."
"Love you, too, Ivy. I'll see you soon."
Then he was gone, walking through the Hogwarts gates, head down, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his robes. Ivy didn't go back to the pub until she could no longer see him in the darkness.
When she got there Rose grabbed her by the hand and dragged her to the kitchen.
"What is it?" she asked, bewildered.
"Not what," Rose explained. "Who."
"Oh no..." Ivy muttered. "Madam Maxime's here, isn't she?"
"No, Ivy, not Maxime. Someone who could do even worse things to your future. Rita Skeeter."
Ivy gave Rose a perplexed look. "I've never even heard of Rita Skeeter."
"She's a reporter for the Daily Prophet. Strictly gossip. She doesn't care who her pen destroys. I want you to stay back here till she's gone. She doesn't need to go poking around in your business."
"She won't even notice me," Ivy insisted. "I'm just waiting tables."
"Look Ivy, I know you've just been with Charlie, and you told me about Dumbledore. They're important people and they've accepted you just as you are. And so have I. But Skeeter could ruin you. She could ruin everything, if she dug back far enough. It's not worth the risk. Just stay back here and scrub potatoes. Make some more of those god-awful stoat sandwiches. I don't care what you do, just do it in the kitchen till she's gone."
"OK," Ivy said, frightened a little by Rose's strict demeanor. "I'll stay in the kitchen."
"You swear?"
"I swear, Rose. I won't leave the kitchen till that Skeeter woman's gone."
"Good." Rose rubbed a hand across her forehead. "I'm going back to help Renfroe." Turning toward the root cellar, she bent and called out to the house elves.
"Willa! Get your cousins and come up here. Looks like we're in for a late night."
Ivy saw her stick her head farther down the stairs, muttering something to Willa, but she didn't bother trying to hear. She was busy imagining all the terrible headlines that could be concocted if anybody poked into her past. They wouldn't have to go far to put two-and-two together. Of course her father would deny it and stick to his story, that he'd sent her away to protect her from Voldemort. And maybe most people would believe him. But her life at Hogsmeade would be over. Visions of one-way tickets to Antarctica or Iceland danced in her head as she took a seat at the kitchen table. Willa patted her hand and served her some tea.
Later, as Rosmerta and Ivy finally headed up to their beds, Ivy asked again about Rita Skeeter.
"Is she here just for the tournament, do you think?"
"She goes wherever the stories are," Rose said. "And she shows up where there're no stories sometimes and makes something up. It just depends on how desperate she is for headlines. She wrote a piece on the new Defense of the Dark Arts teacher, Alastor Moody. It wasn't very flattering."
"You mean that fellow, Mad-Eye?" Ivy shuddered. "I keep wondering why he comes in here, refusing to drink anything but whatever's in his flask."
"Paranoid, that one is," Rose grinned. "He's seen too much of the dark arts, if you ask me. Now let's forget about Rita Skeeter and Professor Moody. It's nearly 3 AM. We're going to go to sleep, and when we wake up we can make our plans for London."
Ivy gave Rose a sideways glance. "Why do you want to go to London anyway?"
Rose tumbled onto her bed with a mischievous grin. "Well, because we were invited, of course."
Ivy dropped onto her bed, and then rolled over onto her stomach to study her friend.
"Invited by who?"
"Whom, dearie. Say 'invited by whom.'"
"Invited by whom?" Ivy repeated, sticking her tongue out at Rose. "Another long lost friend?"
Rose laughed out loud. "I think your powers of perception are getting stronger. Have you been studying tea leaves again?"
"Rose!" Ivy exclaimed. "Just tell me! Invited by whom?"
"Only a certain previous professor of Defense of the Dark Arts. Only the person who snatched you from the jaws of a dementor. Only..."
"Remus Lupin?!" Ivy guessed, nearly coming up off of her bed.
"Yes," Rose said, suddenly yawning. She turned away from Ivy and snuggled down under her covers. "Night, Ivy." she murmured.
"That's all you're going to tell me?" Ivy continued. "We're going to Remus Lupin's for Christmas, goodnight? I should whack you with my pillow for that."
She picked up her pillow and swung it toward Rose, who was already expecting the blow. Wand outstretched, she blasted it back at Ivy
"Go to sleep," Rose commanded. "You can hear the rest in the morning."
"It's morning now," Ivy threw back. She waited for Rose to reply, but heard nothing. Finally soft snores sounded from the other side of the bedroom. Ivy slowly sank ever lower beneath her own blankets, and before she knew it, her snores were harmonizing with those of her friend.