Chapter 74: Fire Dragon Reserve

“Hello, I’m Charlie, Charlie Weasley.”

Silven raised an eyebrow at the familiar red hair before him—he hadn’t expected Alastair’s guide to be someone he already knew.

“We’ve met before, in Diagon Alley—do you remember?” Charlie clearly recognized Silven too; he pulled a wand from a clasp on his sleeve.

“This wand was the one you helped me pick—it’s saved me from fire drakes countless times.”

“Of course, I remember clearly,” Silven said, glancing at the wand.

Its surface was smooth and clean, with no scratches or dents visible.

“You take good care of this wand.”

“Back in school, I didn’t understand anything—I thought a wand was just a tool, didn’t matter how it was treated.”

“But now I know how vital a good wand is—sometimes, if your spell forms half a second faster than your enemy’s, you live.”

Charlie shrugged. “Also, I don’t want another scolding from Mr. Ollivander.”

Silven smiled. “My grandfather is usually quite kind—he rarely scolds others, especially guests.”

“I thought so too,” Charlie said with a self-deprecating shrug. “Alright, enough about that. You’re here for the first time, right? Let me give you a proper tour.”

Charlie led Silven into the woods. Silven had expected something like the Forbidden Forest, but once inside, he realized the trees merely blocked the view.

“That’s a large Muggle-repelling charm—same as the one at the Leaky Cauldron,” Charlie explained. “Any Muggle who stumbles in sees their worst fear…”

“What was the Muggle-repelling charm at the Leaky Cauldron again? Oh right—I just remembered something urgent! This one’s more effective!”

“Do Muggles often wander into the fire dragon reserve?” Silven asked curiously.

“Not often—just one or two every so often. We can handle them…”

“This way—I’ll show you a pretty girl. By the way, she’s from Hogwarts too.”

Charlie spoke with a mysterious tone.

Upon hearing “Hogwarts,” Silven immediately guessed what he was about to show him.

“Look—Norwegian Ridgeback. Pretty, isn’t it?” Charlie pointed to a young, grayish-blue dragon on a nearby cliff. “Hagrid named her Norbert, but later we found out she’s female, so we changed it to Norberta.”

“By the way, do you know Hagrid? He’s the gamekeeper—he takes the first-years across the lake in boats at the start and end of term.”

“Of course I know Hagrid,” Silven said. “And we’re quite close.”

“Then you must know Norberta too,” Charlie said with a smile.

Silven felt as if an arrow had pierced his heart.

No—he had never seen a Norwegian Ridgeback before today, and Hagrid had never told him.

“When I got my brother’s letter, I was stunned,” Charlie continued, oblivious to Silven’s expression. “Hagrid’s incredible—no seasoned dragon keeper would claim they could hatch a dragon egg, but he did. And he raised Norberta this big.”

Silven grew more and more uneasy, and quickly changed the subject. “Is this the Norwegian Ridgeback’s active zone?”

“Not exactly,” Charlie shook his head. “This is the acclimation zone. Fire drakes brought into the reserve are kept here for a while before being moved. We observe their temperaments.”

“If a dragon is too aggressive or territorial, we separate it from the calmer ones.”

“Fire drakes have calm ones?” Silven asked in disbelief.

“Relatively calm,” Charlie said. “Like the Welsh Green or the Australian Plain-Scale—so long as you don’t provoke them, they won’t attack.”

Charlie went on to describe other interesting things in the reserve. Silven nodded vaguely while scanning the surroundings, searching for something.

“If you’re looking for other dragons, you’ll be disappointed,” Charlie said. “Fewer dragons have been arriving lately. Right now, Norberta’s the only one here.”

“If we’d come at another time, I could take you to the real reserve—but not now. Something big’s happening inside.”

“I know,” Silven said. “But are there any dragon’s blood trees around here?”

“Dragon’s blood trees?”

“Yes,” Silven nodded. “I thought fire drakes always had dragon’s blood trees nearby—I haven’t seen a single one.”

“Ah, you’re looking for those,” Charlie realized. “You won’t see them here—they’re on the other side, near the dragons’ nests.”

“Wait here a moment—I’ll take you to see them.”

Charlie told Silven to stay put, then hurried off. He returned twenty minutes later, carrying two brooms.

“Can you ride?” He handed one broom to Silven. “It’s a long way—across a mountain. Flying saves a lot of time.”

Silven shook his head, then nodded. “I’ve only ridden during Flying lessons.”

“Enough,” Charlie said. “I picked out two old Silver Arrows—slow, but stable.”

As Charlie said, Silven mounted the broom and instantly felt like he was back in his Flying class—completely secure.

Charlie, however, seemed uncomfortable with the slow pace, but to accommodate Silven, he reluctantly led the way at a crawl.

Fortunately, they only needed to cross the mountain in the middle. Once on the other side, Charlie leapt off his broom and pointed to several gray-brown trees in the distance. “There—they’re the dragon’s blood trees you wanted.”

Silven flew eagerly toward them, but quickly realized with disappointment that the trees were long dead.

Dragon’s blood trees are a special magical plant—they don’t need rain, but require fire to thrive, preferably dragonfire.

When properly nourished, they turn golden-red and emit a scent dragons love.

These trees were certainly not golden-red. Silven broke off a branch and, with a light squeeze, it snapped cleanly in half.

At this level of decay, they weren’t fit for wand-making—even carrying one back intact would be difficult.

“Are there no other dragon’s blood trees?” Silven pressed.

“There are,” Charlie thought for a moment. “But you said yourself—they only grow near dragon nests…”

He didn’t finish. Instead, he glanced casually at the broom beneath Silven.

Not only was the reserve off-limits to outsiders now, but even if it weren’t, he wouldn’t take Silven there—what if a dragon spotted them? He’d never escape.

…

(End of Chapter)