As I Watch the Dragons

I received the news as I was working with a Brazilian Red-Eye. A meaner dragon I'd never seen, but nor had I ever seen a more beautiful one. It is painful to look at in midday, when the sun's ray's reflect off of it's golden scales with an ache-inducing glare , but I would challenge anyone to find a single living being who could resist gazing upon it at sunset. At times like that, the it echoes every every color in the sky and seems to create a work of art in the air around it.

That was my reaction, anyway, the first time I witnessed it. Then, it turned around and levelled those crimson eyes on me, and I knew I was dealing with something incredibly wild, not to mention challenging. I would have turned and run if I had not been so intrigued--or if I had been Percy.

It saddened me to know that there were so few of the dragons left. The Brazilian Red-Eyes had been largely picked off by "dragon-slayers'', as they liked to call themselves, or poachers, as I and others termed them. Their skin was valuable for its amazing hue and was also a very hard-to-find and expensive ingredient in some of the rarer, not to mention much darker, potions.

I was observing one from a considerable distance when the owl arrived, toting a letter on one of its legs. It swooped down to me and waited patiently as I removed the piece of parchment and read it quickly. I had to skim over it several times before I could fully take in the contents of the message. Then, resignedly, I informed my partner that I would be leaving early that day, and would have to take some time off, so he would do well to find a replacement.

I sent the owl ahead of me with another letter--it contained only two words, "I'm coming"--and set off for Britain that very day. I arrived much later than I expected, due partially to atrocious wind conditions. When I stepped into Grimmauld Place in the dead of night, I had a sense of entering quiet pandemonium. There were small clusters of wizards and witches all over the room. Some were talking in low, grave voices, while others were simply standing or sitting in somber silence. My mother was among the latter category.

"Mum," I said, striding briskly over to her.

She turned to me, and though she looked both happy and somehow relieved to see me, her face was filled with worry and sadness.

"Charlie!" she said, and she threw her arms around me.

"Where's Dad?" I asked. "Where is everyone else?"

Clearly, I meant the rest of the Weasley family, since there were already droves of people in that room. Mum sighed and shook her head as she pulled back from me.

"Arthur's speaking with Dumbledore at the moment," she replied. "I asked Bill to stay with the children tonight. They're still at the Burrow--well, except for Percy, of course, he's--he's still--"

"Yes, well," I interrupted meaninglessly, lest Mum burst into tears. Percy was still a very tender subject in the Weasley household. "Why don't you tell me exactly what happened, Mum. The letter didn't give many details."

She nodded. "That was for security reason, but you probably know that, dear. The fact is no one really knows what happens. That's what makes it all so difficult. If you want any substantial information, you'll have to speak with Tonks, although she's still very shocked, poor girl. You can find her in the kitchen, I believe. I'm going to stay in here for a little longer."

I made my way toward the kitchen. Along the way, I caught fragments of on-going conversations.

"He just vanished into thin air," one man was saying to a middle-aged witch. "And I don't mean he disapparated."

The grim atmosphere dissipated slightly when I entered the kitchen. Tonks was sitting at the table, alone, clutching what looked like a butterbeer in one hand. She looked up at me.

"Wotcher, Charlie," she murmured, but she certainly didn't look very cheerful as she said it.

"Wotcher, Tonks," I responded, venturing a small smile as I pulled up a chair directly across from her. I hadn't spoken to Tonks very much, having spent most of my time in Romania, but it was hard not to feel comfortable, or at least interested, around a woman who could change her appearance at will.

"I don't know where he is," Tonks said. "I've told everyone that a thousand times, Charlie. Remus was there, and then he came....and Remus wasn't there anymore."

"Of course you don't know where he is," I said in what I believed to be a soothing tone. "No one doubts that, Tonks." I took a deep breath and plunged onward. "Please tell me what happened that night, Tonks, that night when you and Lupin were alone in this house. I'm not really clear on it right now. Mum's too worried to tell me anything right now. I think she half expects Dad to never return from his chat with Dumbledore."

Tonks closed her eyes and took a sip of her mostly-full butterbeer.

"We were alone, like you said," she began. "All the others who would have been here otherwise had gone out. What I would have given for Mad-Eye to have been in the house when it happened....but that makes no difference now, I suppose. Anyway, we hadn't spoken very that night, or any other night, really. I'm not sure if you know it, since you've been away, but Remus hasn't been his usual self for quite some time now, ever since Sirius died. For the most part, he tries to act as if nothing's wrong, but I think he feels a bit guilty for what happened, really. He shouldn't, I know, but that doesn't stop him."

She took another sip, and her mouth quivered a little as she swallowed. I found this extremely disturbing. Until this night, I had never seen Tonks looking anything but happy and optimistic, but now she looked at best morose, at worst in a state of despair.

"I went up to the room I use early that night, earlier than usual, anyway," she continued. "I was very bored, and Remus was being even gloomier than he normally is. He was downstairs....he was in here, actually. He was reading the Daily Prophet, and he was sitting right where you are now, Charlie. At least he was when I left him. So I read for a while, and then I went to sleep."

She took a shaky breath.

"I don't really know how much later it was when I woke. At first, I wasn't sure what had caused me to wake up, but then I heard the noises coming from downstairs. I thought perhaps that Remus was having one of his minor breakdowns--once, you know, the night of Sirius's death, he hurled a rather large

decorative vase at the portrait of Ms. Black. I got out of bed and threw on a robe. I was going to go downstairs and either comfort Remus or tell him to shut up and go to bed--no telling what I do when I'm tired."

She looked up from the table at me and tried to smile, but her attempt failed miserably.

"When I opened my door, I knew at once that something was very, very wrong. There were voices. One of them belonged to Remus, but the other....I'd never heard it in my life, and that scared me.

"It's not as if I'm personally acquainted with every wizard and witch that stops by here, but I've most of the people Remus speaks with on a regular basis. I couldn't imagine him rowing with a complete stranger in the middle of the night unless something was terribly wrong. I crept downstairs. I intended to sneak into the room, and if something really was wrong, I was going to....well, do something. But you know how clumsy I am, Charlie. Everyone knows, I suppose. I tripped over a bloody chair leg, if you can believe that. I heard Remus yell my name, and then I heard another voice--a man's voice--shout the stupefying charm. Remus went silent. I was getting back on my feet when he came out of the kitchen. His spell hit me before I even got a good look at him. The next thing I knew, Mad-Eye was shaking me and yelling in my face. Remus was gone."

She looked straight into my eyes, and her own were filled with unshed tears that threatened to spill over with the smallest blink.

"I think Remus was trying to warn me when he shouted my name. He was trying to save me, Charlie." Now the tears spilled over, and she pushed her butterbeer away and buried her face in her arms. Before my eyes, her short hair turned from purple to a deep, mournful black.

"There, now, Tonks," I whispered. "It's late. I don't think any of us will be leaving tonight. Let me walk you to your room."

She sniffled slightly and then raised her head, nodding. We left the butterbeer sitting forlornly in the middle of the table and left the kitchen. A few people turned their heads to look at Tonks, but no one approached as we turned to the staircase and ascended it. When we at last reached her room, I turned to go, but her hand shot out and grabbed my arm.

"Charlie," she said reluctantly, "stay with me a while longer. Just talk with me a little. I'm still so upset about Remus's....disappearance. Please."

She looked so sad that I couldn't refuse. I followed her in and we sat down on the edge of her bed. We were quiet for some time, in which I could not help but notice how pretty she was even when her eyes were red with tears. I had heard via Bill that there had been something--not a relationship, possibly not even a mutual attraction, but something--going on between Lupin and Tonks, and, as I stared openly at her now, it was easy to see what would have drawn him to her. She really was beautiful.

"Tonks," I said softly, "they're looking for him. Practically everyone who has the ability to move is looking for him. They'll find him. I truly believe that."

I wanted to sound sure, to sound firm in my "beliefs", but from her reaction I was only able to conclude that I failed utterly and completely. She burst into a fresh peal of tears. I wanted to comfort her somehow, perhaps to put my arms around her, but I felt too awkward to actually do so. After all, I really didn't know her that well, had barely spoken to her before tonight. So I rose from the bed and walked over to a large, handsome dresser, so that she could have some sort of privacy as she wept. I ran my hand across the surface of the smooth, dark wood. When I reached the corner, my fingertips brushed something.

I looked down, thinking that I had hit a rough bit of wood, but whatever it was had crumbled on my hand. I raised my fingertips to my eyes and saw a very small dusting of a brownish, dry substance. I at once suspected what it was, and I leaned down to look closer at the corner of the dresser.

There, on the wooden corner, was a small, almost unnoticeable bit of dried blood. It was not only this, however, that chilled my own blood. There, stuck in the small spot of brown crust were two gray hairs. I easily pulled them loose, bringing with them another flake or two of hardened blood. Even as I examined them in my hand I could not stop myself from thinking that they looked very much as if they had come from the temple of a certain haggard man who had been missing now for a few days.

"Tonks," I said, straightening up and turning to her. I held out my hand for her to see. "It's blood. And hair. Gray hair."

She paled, and I knew that this time it was no trick of her metamorphmagus abilities.

"You said you went to bed," I said. "You said you woke up and went downstairs, and you said that Remus was stunned there. But the blood--Why would he have been in your room, Tonks? And when?"

She got up slowly, wiped a tear from her cheek, and walked over to where I stood.

"Charlie," she said, her voice uncharacteristically hoarse. "Charlie, I want you to listen to me. I don't know what you're thinking right now, but whatever thoughts you may be having--whatever thoughts you are having....I want you to take them back to Romania with you."

I thought she was going to take my hand, but she merely slipped hers under mine, the one that was holding the blood and hairs, and raised it to her eye-level. Then, she tilted her chin back slightly, and blew the contents of my palm into the air, where they eventually travelled to the floor. We both watched their slow descent. After it was over, she turned back to me and spoke again.

"We both have a lot to think about."

So I did what she said. I went back to Romania without telling anyone of my discovery, if it could even be called that, as I really have nothing but a mass of unanswered questions. I've spent a lot of time since that night watching the dragons, in particular the Brazilian Red-Eye.

It is such a beautiful creature, and looking at it while the sun sets, one would think that it was the very epitome of all that is good and true in the world. Then, it turns and reveals its red, red eyes, and it brings to mind a fleet of other things, in particular the image of another red-eyed individual.

Tonks inevitably floats into my brain when I am pondering such topics, and, with her face, the last quiet words she said to me.

I certainly do have a lot to think about.