Viktor Krum's manager set a pile of newspapers in front of the young quidditch star.

"Vat is-?"

"Just look at the headlines." The tired woman said to her young client, rubbing at her temples.

Viktor did as he was told.

Bulgaria Experiences National Shortage of Red Hair Dye

For the first time in recorded history, red hair dye is flying off the shelves.

Krum Leads Bulgaria into new 'Red Scare!'

Several dozen high-profile celebrities, including popular singer Desislava, renowned philanthropist Anya Blagarodna, and the Speaker of the House of Commons Maria Andon, have been exposed as natural redheads who have used dyes and spells to remain hidden until now…

President Milev Unable to Reach Agreement with Dementors

The Bulgarian Dementors Association has pulled out of its previous agreement with the Bulgarian government, citing concerns about the safety of dementors in an increasingly-ginger Bulgaria.

Harry Potter's Harem and How it Compares to Viktor Krum's

While it seems Krum has the advantage on twins at the moment, the Boy Who Lived already has two official harem members, and is known to have a 'special relationship' with dragons, if you catch my drift. Experts predict that Potter will soon open negotiations with other magical creatures to increase his prestige. The question is: veela, goblins, merfolk, centaurs, sirens, werewolves, who will be next?!

Viktor looked at his manager. His manager looked back at him.

"I vant a raise."

"...how much?"

Harry remained in the cave and exchanged stories with Ignis until lunchtime. After much convincing, he was able to talk her down from her earlier idea of going to Britain to demand answers about the Tournament. In exchange, however, she demanded he put pressure on the investigation himself so as to have an update for her by his next visit. Harry had gladly agreed. It was a much less violent alternative, and he really should have been more vocal about an investigation in the first place, so Ignis had inadvertently become his accountability buddy.

He arrived at the main lodge just as lunch was ending, and was able to grab a sandwich and spend some time with Fnord, Bina, and a junior keeper he hadn't yet met named Dougie. His mood took a slight dip when he realized how little time he had left with the keepers. He was set to meet with Director Roland again at 3 p.m, and his portkey was scheduled to leave just a couple hours after that so he could meet the Grangers for dinner and spend the last full day of break with them.

It was hard to believe that in less than two days, he would be loading his trunk onto the Hogwarts Express again. While he was excited to go back to Hogwarts, the first place he had ever felt at home, he was loath to leave the reserve and found himself wishing that break didn't have to end. He desperately wanted to stay where he was.

The rest of winter break had been great too, of course. Spending time with Luna and her father had been a blast (if somewhat… unconventional) and the Grangers had treated him like one of their own, but there was something special about the reserve. It probably had something to do with the giant fire-breathing beasts that he was somehow lucky enough to be able to speak to, but who knows. It might also be the people who treated him like part of the crew, who valued him for what he could do instead of the now nearly-translucent scar on his forehead.

Fnord walked him over to Director Roland's office. "I'll swing by in about an hour to pick you up. Then I figure we can get a bit more 'dragon time' before you have to head, yeah?"

Harry agreed easily and waved his friend goodbye before knocking on the door in front of him.

"Come in!" The now-familiar voice of Jane Roland called from the other side.

Harry obeyed, entering the warm office. The room was a good size for an office, and its walls and trim were composed of the same medium grain wood that could be found throughout the rest of the lodge.

Director Roland sat behind a large desk that was clear other than a couple photo frames, a pen holder, and two piles of paperwork. There were two comfortable-looking green upholstered chairs set in front of the desk.

"Please, have a seat." The Director gestured toward the aforementioned chairs. Harry obliged, scooting in slightly so he could better see the papers that Director Roland had slid toward him. The top of the page read:

NATIONAL DRAGON RESERVE OF ROMANIA

FREELANCE OFFER OF EMPLOYMENT

Harry looked up at the director as she cleared her throat. "Now, I know I sent you an offer a couple weeks ago, but I think this revised version is more appropriate. It has a modestly higher starting pay, with opportunities to earn bonuses depending on the jobs that come up. This version also excludes the reserve's standard non-compete contract."

Harry was surprised, "I-well, thank you. I won't lie to you, I was prepared to sign the first contract you sent over. Why the change?"

Roland looked at him evenly, "A couple reasons. One, you've already proved that you're worth the money. Sure, before, you were a kid with a talent, but I didn't know if I could rely on you in a crisis. Now I do." Harry flushed, secretly pleased with the praise. If Roland had noticed, she didn't comment. Instead, she continued, "Two, I think making you sign a non-compete right now would be exploitative toward you, not to mention greedy and short-sighted on my end. Policies be damned—you're 14 for Christ's sake, I'm not gonna limit your opportunities." She paused, as if deciding whether or not to continue. "And to be honest, I have an ulterior motive here. Do you know how many known Parselmouths there are in the world?"

Harry shook his head no, a bit confused at the turn the conversation had taken.

"Me neither, because the number is too small for any published statistics. I mean, there are probably dozens—or even hundreds—in hiding, but most of the globe has stigmatized the shit out of the skill. The only places where Parselmouths aren't treated like the antichrist are the States, Australia, Japan, a couple countries around Mesoamerica, and some parts of West Africa. And yes, I spent time researching that." Roland added wryly, "But it has an incredibly versatile range of uses; there are so many fields where Parseltongue is invaluable, dragon keeping is just one of them. Curse breaking, ward design, specialized healing, potions ingredient collection, any form of magizoology, archaeology, and that's just what I can rattle off off the top of my head."

Director Roland paused for a moment, then sighed. "Now don't misunderstand my rant, I would love to monopolize you—God knows it would be amazing for the reserve—but that's short-sighted. I'm playing the long game here."

Harry stared at Director Roland in amazement. She had very obviously spent time thinking this through, a lot of time, and he had a feeling he knew what she was getting at. "You're saying that the issue isn't a lack of Parselmouths; it's that Parselmouths are almost all in hiding because of their bad rap."

He paused, suddenly fighting off the urge to laugh. "It sucks, but there's no way to force them out of hiding, and even if you could, they'd be stigmatized and attacked. But then," He laughed incredulously, "But then, I show up, the freakin' Boy Who Lived, the poster boy against dark magic, and I speak Parseltongue in front of hundreds and hundreds of spectators at an international tournament. I publicly 'tame' a dragon and bring a supposedly evil skill into the limelight. Suddenly, everything changes. Suddenly, Parseltongue isn't so much sinister as it is interesting, and people are talking about it, and other Parselmouths are seeing the change, too. As public perception changes, those Parselmouths in hiding think, 'Wait, maybe I don't need to hide, maybe this is a good thing, maybe I can use this!' And then they come out of hiding, slowly at first, but more and more over time. Suddenly, reserves and curse breakers and warders and whoever else have access to Parselmouths. Suddenly, there's enough of them to go 'round."

He looked at Director Roland as if she were an entirely different person. Sure, he had respected her before, but now? Now he admired her. She was looking at the big picture, planning out her next several moves, but still being upfront and honest about what she wanted to do.

"Close." Roland said with a dry smile, "Even if every Parselmouth in the world suddenly stepped forward, there still wouldn't be enough. It's a rare skill and a hot commodity."

"But my point still stands. You want me to work at the other reserves." Harry stated simply. "Not just the reserves; you want me to freelance in as many places with as many people as possible. You want me to keep using Parseltongue publicly, to change its reputation enough that those other Parselmouths come forward."

"Exactly." Director Roland said.

"But still… why bother? Why go through all this hassle? I mean, if it works, you might end up with another Parselmouth or two a few years down the line, but so will the other preserves. You don't directly benefit much from this, and you're sort of giving up the advantage of exclusivity. So… why?"

Roland studied him for a moment. "I have my own reasons." She finally said, "It's somewhat personal, but I imagine I'll end up telling you later, one way or another."

Something in her gaze told Harry that she was telling the truth, and that now would not be a wise time to push for it. He nodded in assent.

"So you can respond to the other reserves and whoever else has been owling you. If you're amenable to it, that is." She continued, picking up from the earlier vein of their conversation, "I do appreciate you maintaining exclusive negotiations with Romania up until this point, but I've gotten owls from some of my colleagues complaining about how stingy I'm being."

Harry was confused. "You've gotten owls about me from other reserves?" He asked.

"Of course. They think I instructed you not to reply, since I managed to get my claws into you first." She snorted. "As if. The more places you go and use Parseltongue, the better. Actually, I know several excellent tutors, if you wanted to keep working even during the academic year."

Harry was silent for a few moments, taking it all in. He would think about the private tutors thing later. For now, he needed to deal with the obvious issue, "Director, I haven't received any post from other reserves. Not a single letter from anyone but you has reached me about Parseltongue-related contracting."

"Not one?" She raised a brow, "I can assure you, they've been sent. Who on earth is in charge of your mail wards?"

"What are mail wards?"

"All right, dunno what's got your panties in a bunch, but there's a surprise outside and we probably shouldn't keep her waiting much longer."

Fnord's cheerful voice brought Harry back to the present. After his conversation with Director Roland, the young man had a lot on his mind. Roland had recommended he go to his magical guardian or a lawyer in order to figure out the mail ward issue, and had agreed to send out a memo explaining the situation to the colleagues whom she knew had reached out. In the meantime, they'd made arrangements for him to visit the Romanian reserve again over Easter break, and he was already looking forward to it.

He shook his head as if to dislodge the thoughts, then turned his focus on what Fnord had said. "She? You didn't bring Ignis up here, did you?"

"Nope!" Fnord beamed, "I did one better. Now c'mon already!"

The eager dragon keeper practically pushed Harry out the door, revealing what, or rather, who, the surprise was.

"Is that… Norberta?"

Harry was astonished. It had been nearly three years since he had seen the dragonette, and she had grown nearly unrecognizable in that period. When she'd been born, Harry recalled comparing her to a crumpled black umbrella. That comparison no longer suited her, however. While she did still have her signature long snout and slim black body, she had grown into her other features, particularly her large wings and flared nostrils.

There were other changes, as well. Her orange eyes were no longer bulging and disproportionate, but seemed to suit her general demeanor. Her horn stubs had grown into two magnificent horns, just at the base of her forehead, and the spines on her wings had similarly increased in size. Harry estimated she must be 20 feet long in total, and maybe 9-10 feet tall.

He knew she was unlikely to remember him, given that she'd only known him for a week as a newborn, but Harry decided to test his luck. "Hello, Norberta." He hissed, "I'm not sure if you re-"

Harry never finished that sentence, as he found himself scooped up by a dragon doing what could only be described as a happy dance.

"MUMMY!"

After an hour or so as Norberta's captive, Harry was able to finally extract himself with the promise of extra beef treats and another visit with 'Big Mummy' (Hagrid) as soon as he was back on the preserve. Norberta had apparently decided that those present at her hatching (Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Hagrid) were all her 'mummies,' and she had missed them dreadfully in the last few years.

Fnord, of course, had been no help. He had instead chosen to take pictures for 'future blackmail,' as Harry had spent most of the last hour being held in a dragon's arms (front legs? Harry wasn't certain) like a baby.

"Man, I wish Charlie had been here to see that! He'd've been rolling." Fnord snickered.

Harry realized abruptly that he hadn't seen that particular Weasley at all during his time at the preserve. "Where is Charlie, anyway? I sort of figured he'd be back from visiting the rest of the Weasleys by now." He grinned, "I was really looking forward to hearing about the Ukrainian Ironbelly story."

Fnord stopped walking and looked at Harry in surprise. "Oh! I, uh, I assumed you knew, since you're friends with his little brothers and all…" The keeper rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, and his tone shifted, "Er, Charlie was supposed to be back on the 28th, but he had to take a leave of absence because of a family emergency. I don't know details, but apparently one of the Weasleys got super sick all of a sudden and had to be hospitalized."

And just like that, all the pieces fell into place.

The news article and court summons.

Ron's strange behavior.

Charlie being gone for a family emergency.

It all made sense. The student who had been fighting compulsion charms, the student who was in potentially critical condition, it was Ron.

Memories of the last semester at Hogwarts flashed through Harry's mind. Ron approaching Harry two days after his name had come out of the cup but suddenly going pale and disappearing; Ron eating less and sleeping more as the time moved on; Ron growing paler and quieter as the days went on, slowly disappearing into the background.

Everything came together at once, and Harry was gasping for air. He couldn't breathe, couldn't even stand under the sudden onslaught of guilt. He faintly registered Fnord's voice yelling as he sank to his knees, but nothing permeated the haze that had overcome his senses.

A/N: Oooooh, Harry's entering his emo era :O

I won't lie, next chapter is a little heavier than usual. BUT: we hop back into the fun pretty quickly, or at least I'm hoping to. Bonus points to anyone who recognizes the reference I made with Director Roland's name-her description is vastly different in this story than the inspo, but hey, I took creative liberties. Also, I finally got caught up with posting this story on Ao3, so you can read it wherever you prefer and it'll get updated at the same rate.

As usual, let me know what you think, and I'll see you next week.

Cheers,

PW