Chapter Nineteen
By Monday they had all agreed to take turns helping Hagrid take care of Norbert. That night was Ron's turn, so after finishing his homework (he copied half off Lina and half off Harry) he borrowed Harry's invisibility cloak and was gone. A few hours later, he came back with his hand badly bandaged in a rag.
"Bloody dragon bit me!" he said. "I tell you, the minute we're clear of him the better!" "Lemme have a look at that, Ron," said Lina. It was a nasty bite, and Ron's finger had already begun to swell. "Ugh," she said under her breath. "It might be infected," she said, "but it's too early to tell."
She ran up to her room to see if she had anything to help, but all she could find were a few bottles of Fire-berry water. She brought one down and handed it to Ron, who took it in his good hand. "What's this?" "It's a bit like butterbeer, but it won't ever make you drunk. Try it. It's a bit hot going down, but it'll make you feel better."
Ron glanced at it, then pulled the cork out with his teeth and took a drink. His face colored, and barely managed to swallow. "A—bit—hot?" he panted. He took another swig. "It does make me feel a bit better," he admitted. "I told you. But that's enough. Too much at one time could be bad for you. I wouldn't know. I've never tried it on a human before." She wiped the rim of the bottle clean on the hanky her mother had sent, and took a drink. "You'd best get to bed," she said to Ron. "Right," he agreed, and he and Harry left for the boy's dormitories.
"Are you sure that stuff won't kill him?" asked Hermione anxiously, as Lina took another swallow. "I'm pretty sure. Look, 'Mione, it won't kill him. I promise." She corked the bottle and headed toward the window. She set the bottle down on the sill and whistled to Tib. "Yes, yes, I'm coming, the great Tib to the rescue!" said Tib exasperatedly, flying in as an owl. "I don't understand why you can't just call me with thought-speak when I'm right outside!"
Hermione looked thunderstruck. "Your owl just talked!" she squealed. "Shh, Hermione, it's ok. Tib, this is my best friend, Hermione. Hermione, this is Tib. He can become whatever animal he likes. But he's a secret. Please don't tell anyone. Oh and you," she said, glaring at Tib, "kindly keep your voice down when you're not using thought-speak. How's Lena?"
"She's fine. But she is upset. I suppose you'll know all about Phineas Morgan being appointed?" "Lena is my unicorn friend," she explained to Hermione. But she's at a meeting right now. When she's back I'll introduce you to her."
"Yes, I do know about Morgan," said Lina, directing her attention back to Tib. "But why's Lena upset?"
"Because of you. Apparently Morgan's after them most powerful stones in Zell, and you are a Fire Faerie. Everyone thinks he's after you."
Yeah, well. I can handle myself, thought Lina later in bed. But I do hope Lena hurries back.
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While Lina dreamt in her bed, safe on Earth, far above in Zell, Queen Esther was waiting in her private chambers. She tapped her foot impatiently, examining her perfectly manicured fingernails. Just the double doors banged open, and a short, squat man came flying through them. His head was bald in the middle, and the hair he had on either side was stone grey. He hadn't shaven in several days, and his orange robes were stained and dirty, as though he'd been wearing them for several days.
"How dare you barge in like that. And can't you clean up before entering my presence?" said the queen, gazing at him down her long nose. "My apologies, your highness," said the man. He closed the doors with a snap before dropping his oily tone.
"Do you know what that daughter of yours has been doing?" he demanded. "Embroidering handkerchiefs like a good girl," said the queen, smiling. "She sent me one last week."
"Not that one," said the man. His voice was squeaky and rough, as though he'd hurt his throat. "The other one, on Earth. The Fire Faerie," he said pointedly. "Oh." The queen stopped smiling. "That one. Honestly, Morgan, I don't know what to do with her. I can't control her anymore. She's not at all like Larissa." "You must control her. You must. Or else she'll get too headstrong, and she'll refuse to marry the young prince of Isthaena."
"But I hate to interfere with Robin. He's always understood her so much better than I."
"But Robin is in the Glade now," hissed Morgan. "And unable to deal with anything, I'm afraid, except get well. Quite sad, isn't it, how he fell down the stairs to the courtyard." He grasped the queen's hand.
"You know, it's almost better this way. Now he won't be able to give the girl any ideas."
"Morgan! You go too far. Robin is my husband. He and I will settle our differences. I'm beginning to think he's right about appointing you!"
Morgan gripped her arm very tightly with his hand. "He is wrong. I was the best man for the job! And you will control this little Lina," he lowered is voice to a whisper and forced Esther to look him in the eyes, "or you will pay."
He let go of her and she fell to the floor, unconscious. Morgan laughed and left, slamming the doors behind him.