IWSC2 round 3
Beauxbatons 2nd year
Theme – Magical Bugs
Prompts: Charlie Weasley (main), dragon pox, heartbreak
WC: 2914
Author's Note:
Charlie Weasley's first wand (which later became Ron's when Charlie left Hogwarts just as Ron was arriving there) was made of ash with a unicorn hair core. Unicorn hairs create extremely faithful wands and give consistent results, but not especially powerful ones, although their lack in this regard may be compensated for by the qualities of the wood casing. Ash is known for its strength, hardness and shock resistance––rather like Charlie himself, in fact––and in magical terms, it embodies communication, wisdom and curiosity. The qualities of both wood and core gave rise to the opening scene of the story.
Fire and Brimstone
Charlie Weasley gripped his wand more tightly and peered through the trees. Had he, or had he not, seen something moving in the depths? The moonlight shining through the forest canopy flickered as the leaves above him quivered in the breeze, and he blinked and refocused. There! There was something! But there were so many creatures in the Forbidden Forest, and this looked too luminous to be a dragon.
It was Charlie's first year studying Care of Magical Creatures, and he loved the outdoor nature of the work, but he wished fervently that they could study the creatures he'd always longed to be involved with: dragons. When a rumour had gone around the school that there was a dragon in the Forbidden Forest, Charlie had determined he would find it. It meant breaking rules, of course, and he could almost hear his mother's voice as he made up his mind: Dragons! Of all things, Charlie, why dragons? They're a recipe for heartbreak, what with injuries, burns, dragon pox and all. Why, Fleamont and Euphemia Potter died of dragon pox, and they'd never even been near one! I'd never allow any child of mine to get involved with them.
But Charlie's longing to see one, even touch one, was too strong for him to pay heed to such things. He had since sneaked into the Forest on many occasions, both during the day and at night, but without success. He hadn't risked searching on a full moon before—its bright light made him so much more visible crossing the grounds—but he was becoming desperate.
The thing moved again, and Charlie raised his wand a little. He was more than willing to find a dragon, but there were so many other creatures in the Forest, and they weren't all friendly. He took a step forward, and suddenly his eyes focused properly, seeing what was tree trunk and what was beast.
The unicorn stepped daintily out from the shadows and came toward him. Its white coat glowed in the moonlight, and he saw how the gleam of it through the trunks had masqueraded as slants of moonbeam. The animal stopped a few feet from his upraised wand, seemingly completely unafraid. Charlie lowered his wand and put out a tentative hand. The unicorn leant forward and sniffed delicately at his fingers. The soft muzzle brushed across his palm, and he trembled in wonder.
"You beautiful creature," he murmured. "I thought all unicorns were too frightened to come near us."
The unicorn's eyes met his briefly, and then it nosed at the wand he still held in his other hand. Charlie's brow furrowed, and then he gasped as realisation dawned.
"My wand—it has a unicorn hair core. You don't mean..."—he scarcely dared utter the thought—"Is…is it your hair?"
The unicorn nosed his wand again and then laid its head on his shoulder. Charlie stood stock-still, his thoughts whirling. He'd never before thought about the creature from whom his wand core had come, nor the tree from which the wood itself had been taken, but now he wondered if he might have an unrealised connection with them. He decided to try it.
"I don't know whether you know why I'm here," he began hesitantly, "but perhaps you can help me? I've heard that there's a dragon in the Forest, and I want to find it."
The unicorn lifted its head from his shoulder and looked into his eyes. He gazed into the soft brown depths and heard a voice in his head: There are no dragons in the Forest.
Charlie sighed regretfully. "I was beginning to think that was the case. I'm so disappointed. I absolutely love them—no offence to you; you're beautiful, too—and I was really hoping there was one nearby."
The unicorn looked into his eyes again, and he could see his face reflected in the glistening orbs. Again the voice sounded in his head: You must find your dragons elsewhere. Albus Dumbledore may help you. But you should leave; the Forest is not safe for human foals at night.
Charlie nodded. "They always tell us that. In fact, I'm breaking rules in being here. But I'm not really sorry, because I'm so glad to have met you. I—I don't know what the proper thing to say is, but"—he hesitated—"thank you for my wand core. And thank you for talking to me."
The unicorn nuzzled his cheek, and he fondled its soft ears and scratched the base of its spiralled horn. Then the animal took a few paces down the path Charlie had come by and looked back, waiting for him to follow. He came up beside it and laid a hand on its glossy back, and together they walked to the edge of the Forest.
~ o ~ o ~
"Professor Dumbledore, sir, may I ask you something?"
It was after breakfast the following morning, and Charlie had decided to take the unicorn's advice and see if the Headmaster would help him find some dragons to work with.
Dumbledore paused on his way out of the Great Hall and contemplated the red-headed boy. "Yes, Mr Weasley, of course you may."
"I really want to work with dragons, sir. I know I'm only young, but I've loved them since I was a small boy, and—"
"—and now that you've discovered there are none in the Forbidden Forest, you want to find some elsewhere." Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled as he completed Charlie's statement.
"I—I—how did you know, sir?" The words were out before Charlie realised it, and he groaned inwardly at their implicit admission of guilt.
"Shall we simply say that I also have friends in the Forest, Mr Weasley?"
Charlie heaved a sigh of relief. He had thought for a moment that the Headmaster might have seen him out of bounds—although surely, if he had, he would have sent him back to the castle?
Dumbledore looked gravely at his pupil. "You are aware that dragons are very dangerous creatures, Mr Weasley?"
"Yes, sir, I know. But I've never wanted to do anything else, and I feel that the sooner I begin, the better."
"Hmm." Dumbledore stroked his chin thoughtfully. "What do your parents think?"
"They're not very keen," Charlie admitted reluctantly.
Dumbledore's lips twitched. "I should imagine that Molly was rather vehement in her expression of 'not very keen'."
"Er…well…yes, sir, she was. But I'm sure she'll get used to the idea."
"No doubt she will do so eventually, although I expect that in the meantime you will have to endure a great deal of solicitous concern on her part."
Charlie held his breath as the Headmaster considered his request. He knew that dragonology was an unusual career to aspire to, but he could think of no-one else who might be willing to help him toward his goal.
Dumbledore paused, and then nodded his head decisively. "As it happens, Hagrid will be taking some dragons to South America during the holidays. Peru has agreed on an exchange of three pairs of Peruvian Vipertooths for three pairs of Welsh Greens, and Hagrid will be escorting the Greens over there and bringing back the Vipertooths. I might be able to arrange for you to go with him as an assistant. Would that be satisfactory?"
Charlie beamed. "Oh yes, sir, that'd be fantastic! Thanks very much!"
Dumbledore raised a reproving hand. "Don't let your enthusiasm carry you away, Mr Weasley. You have yet to obtain your parents' permission for the trip, and that may be even more difficult than wrestling a Vipertooth in mid-ocean."
~ o ~ o ~
Molly opened Charlie's letter eagerly. Despite having grudgingly given him permission to go to Peru, she had worried every day since he left.
Dear Mum,
We've arrived in Peru. The Welsh Greens were really well-behaved on the trip—only bit me five times and singed my hair twice. Hagrid is awesome with them, though. He treats each one like his baby, and they seem to respond (with extra-fiery breath and affectionate tail-lashing!). I keep my distance when he's petting them.
I'll write tomorrow, when we've delivered the Greens to the sanctuary and have more time to tour Lima. Don't worry! I'm fine, and I've learned heaps.
Love, Charlie.
Molly frowned at the letter, and then summoned her quill to write a reply.
Dear Charlie,
Your owl arrived today, awfully tired from the flight. I do wish International Owl Post would find a way to give them shorter flight stages.
Everything is fine here. Ginny has drawn a picture of you with a dragon, but it's too big for the owl to carry. It's a pretty good drawing for a five-year-old.
Remember what I told you: you are NOT to handle the dragons. It's all very well for Hagrid to pet them, but you must only do feeding and cleaning of their cages. I don't want you down with a bout of dragon pox.
Love, Mum.
P.S. Your father says hello.
P.P.S. Ginny says please bring her something from Peru.
In Lima, Charlie groaned over his mother's missive. He had hoped that his casual mention of the dragons in his first letter would have assuaged her concerns, but she remained sternly inflexible. His next letter might even provoke a Howler!
Dear Mum,
Lima is a weird mixture of really old stuff and really modern things all mixed in together. I went to Huaca Pucllana today, which is a sort of pyramid-cum-temple (about 1500 years old) in the middle of one of Lima's wealthier suburbs. Impressive, but odd.
We're picking up the Vipertooths tomorrow. I'm glad I had some practice with the Greens first—Hagrid says they're pussycats compared with the Vipertooths. I'll be home in a week or so, and you'll see that all your worry has been for nothing.
Love, Charlie.
His mother's reply quivered with the force of her emotions, and there were several places where the parchment had been nearly scored through by the pressure of her quill tip.
Dear Charlie,
When I said you could go with Hagrid, you didn't tell me it was Vipertooths you were bringing back. I suppose you 'forgot' to mention it, because you knew I'd never have said yes if I'd known. DO NOT TOUCH THEM! They're the worst ones for transmitting dragon pox, and people can die from it.
I hope you've learned by now that dragonology is too dangerous a career to consider, and we won't have any more of this nonsense. I just want you to be safe.
Love, Mum.
Six days later, Molly received a letter in a hand she didn't immediately recognise. Her brow furrowed as she opened it, and then her face whitened as she read its brief contents.
Dear Molly,
Landed at Southampton. Charlie's sneezin' sparks, so I've taken him to St Mungo's. Meet me there.
Hagrid.
~ o ~ o ~
Molly stormed into the Magical Bugs ward at St Mungo's, her aura of outrage almost palpable. The directions she had been given to Charlie's bed were unnecessary, for Hagrid's bulky form standing beside the bed was unmistakable. She strode up to him and launched into a tirade.
"Rubeus Hagrid, did you not listen to a word I said before you left? I could have sworn I told you that Charlie was NOT to touch the dragons, under any circumstances, and that he was to keep a safe distance from them at all times. But he wrote that he'd been bitten several times and had his hair singed, and that was just with the Welsh Greens! Heaven knows what more happened on the way home with the Vipertooths! And now he's got dragon pox, hasn't he?"
Hagrid looked sheepishly at her. When Molly really got into her stride, she appeared to be ten feet tall and spouting fire, and despite his great size, he'd rather have faced a Vipertooth any day. He didn't dare admit to her that he and Charlie had struck a deal that the boy would do any tasks he wanted to, but that neither of them would disclose the details to Molly or Arthur.
"Yeah, it's dragon pox," he admitted. "Bu' they said it's still in th' really early stages, an' they're pretty sure they can give 'im a complete cure—not even any marks left."
"I don't care two hoots about the marks, Hagrid. In case you don't remember, Fleamont and Euphemia Potter went down with dragon pox and were carried off within days. This is my child we're talking about, and I'm not going to have him exposed to danger. You know very well that a mild attack in childhood leaves a person more susceptible to the worst form of the disease later, and—"
"Mum." A weak voice from the bed arrested her attention. "Mum, don't blame Hagrid. He was only doing what I told him to do."
Molly bent over her son in concern, but he pushed her back. "Don't get close, Mum. They say that as long as I'm sneezing, I'm still contagious."
As if to prove the truth of his words, he sneezed suddenly, and sparks flew across the blankets, leaving tiny scorch marks wherever they landed. Charlie gestured to the stand beside the bed, and Molly saw the masks and gowns placed there for visitors. She donned a mask and sat down beside him.
"What do you mean, 'what you told him to do'?" she asked suspiciously.
"Well, I wanted to have proper experience with the dragons," said Charlie apologetically, "not just doing the chores, so I…I told him to ignore what you said and let me do whatever I wanted to."
"Charles Prewett Weasley, don't you have any sense at all?" demanded his mother. "I don't give orders like that for fun, you know. I thought it was only going to be the twins who gave me grey hairs before my time, but you seem to be going the right way to add a few, too."
"Sorry, Mum," murmured Charlie placatingly.
"I should think so," scolded Molly. "I hope that means you've given up the idea of working with dragons. I don't want to spend the rest of my days worrying about whether you're going to die, and nor does your father. Promise me you'll stop all this nonsense, and find something more sensible to do with your time."
"What? No way!" said Charlie, as vehemently as his weakened condition permitted. "Mum, I love dragons. They're amazing. All I want to do now is spend more time with them, and learn everything I can."
Molly couldn't believe her ears. In fact, she refused to believe Charlie even knew what he was saying. She patted his shoulder reassuringly.
"You're delirious, son. You need to get some rest. We can talk about it some other time."
Charlie caught her arm. "Mum, listen to me, please. I'm not delirious. This is something I've always wanted to do, and now I know that I'm good at it. Hagrid is going to teach me everything he knows about dragons, and I'm determined that I'm going to work with them. He says there's a sanctuary in Romania where they have all different types, and they're doing some fantastic research and breeding programmes. I know what I'm saying, and this is what I want to do with my life."
Molly listened to him, aghast. This was her worst fear: her child embarking on a life of constant peril—getting burned, ripped by dragons' claws, bruised and battered by angry reptiles, and in the end, killed. She shook her head vigorously.
"No, Charlie, I absolutely forbid it. There is no way your father and I will allow you to do this. Dumbledore should never have encouraged you to think it was even possible, and Hagrid should have known better than to allow a fourteen-year-old boy anywhere near dragons."
"Mum, this isn't Dumbledore's fault or Hagrid's. You can't blame them for something that's been in me since I was barely able to walk. Remember how I used to take your wand and Transfigure dragonflies into miniature dragons? Why do you think that was the only Transfiguration I could do for years, even after I got my own wand?"
His mother folded her arms across her chest and glared obdurately at him. "I won't let you do it. I don't care how much you want to; it's too dangerous."
Charlie took a deep breath. He'd always known that this would happen one day, and he wished it hadn't come while he was so feverish from the pox. It was difficult to be coherent, but he had to make his position clear.
"Mum, please—try to understand." He paused, and took another deep breath. "I don't want to do this without your permission, but this is utterly right for me. One way or another, I will do it. You can either allow it and keep the family together, or forbid it and drive me away."
He saw the look of shock on her face as she finally took in what he was saying. "Just…think about it, okay?"
Molly turned away, devastated. Could she ever consent to living with constant fear for her child's life? Could she bear it if anything happened to him? Or would heartbreak come a different way, as her fears caused an irrevocable rift between them?
Charlie sighed as he watched her walk wordlessly out of the ward.