Categories > Books > Harry Potter > The Bulldog and the Archer
Charlie Weasley discovers the woman of his dreams on the rocky slopes of the famed Dragon Preserve of Romania.
2Ambiance
Author's note: Story begins during the late summer of 1996, before Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.
Part 1 – A hot water spring in the Romanian Carpathians, above the Transylvanian Plateau. The Dragon Preserve.
*
Late summer and early autumn in the Carpathians of Romania can be a unique, if not unnerving, experience. Peace and quiet cease to exist, as if slipping into a state of hibernation, until the deep snows blanket the steep slopes; until after the Dragons mate.
For it is only during abrief period of one month, once every seven years, before the snows come, that a female will rise. Female pheromones assail the senses, traveling on thermal breezes; raucous calls echo from the rocky slopes, piercing the deepest glen; wings flecked in platinum dust flash bright sunlight; all tricks and ploys to try and gain the favor of a healthy male.
The ritual itself is nothing short of spectacular, as the chosen male will soar with his chooser high into the atmosphere, where they will lock talons, and then begin to free-fall. The higher the flight, the more successful the clutch.
The Dragon Preserve in Romania is the largest and the most famous of its kind. It is also one of the very last. Less than two hundred years ago, there were more than a dozen. Now, with the encroachment of industrialized societies, continental wars, and the befouling of huge tracts of land by deforestation and pollutants, not to mention the failures of the Wizarding world to protect them, there are now only three Preserves left.
More than ten species of dragon inhabit the Preserve currently. More than 400 dragons.
They live on the Plateau and beneath, amongst the trees above and in the caves below. They nest inside the mountains to the east and west, and on them. Some eat goats and sheep, others, men, if they can.
Amidst these 400+Dragons, live the Dragon Wardens. Wizards, Witches, Bards, Druids, Priests and Monks; the Wardens dedicate their lives to maintaining abalance with nature that ensures the survival of the dragons.
*
“This is nuts, I've got to be nuts.”
Charlie Weasley sits on a flat rock, shivering and all goose-pimply, partially submerged in ahot water spring. With a handful of sand in one hand and a fistful of moss in the other, he scrubs his barely wet, naked body, not using any soaps or chemicals that would pollute, or more importantly, leave a scent that a dragon would pick up.
As he finishes with his body, he places the excess sand and the moss mop onto the ground at the side of the water pool, near his pile of clothes. He moves off the rock and submerges himself completely in the deeper end. Charlie luxuriates in the heat for a few moments, feeling the steam on his wet face.
Swimming back to the side, he takes a small amount of sand in his hand and begins to scrub at his scalp and closely cropped hair. He stops for a moment, listening to the far off challenge of a Romanian Longhorn, as she wards off another- most likely. Charlie ignores the sound and submerges again to free the sand from his hair. He holds his breath for ten, then twenty more seconds. He bursts back to the surface, expelling a lungful of air and breathing in more. He hears the challenge again.
“Sounds like Agatha,” he tells himself out loud. Agatha is the dominant female on this slope; all the wardens assigned to this area know her.
“You know the dragon calls pretty good!”
Charlie, sputtering and coughing, turns himself about, taken completely by surprise.
On the other side of the spring, a Japanese girl stands, looking at Charlie with her hands on her hips and an admiring smile of her attractive, doll-like face. Wearing a complete outfit in white dragon leather, she blends in well with the slowly rising tendrils of steam, which is what Charlie sees from his point of view. She appears to be wearing an unstrung bow behind her back and a quiver of arrows at her waist.
As the steam tendrils part, Charlie gasps, for upon the ground, reclining several yards behind the girl, is a Hokkaidan White Hellion, which is eyeing him rather suspiciously.
The Japanese girl laughs delicately, watching the red-headed man, both well muscled and well freckled, look first at her, then her mount, then her body, her face, and again, her mount.
“I s'pose it was you and your mount that set off Agatha?”
“Did she mate?”
“Last week, with Silas.”
“Iie, I lost money on that one!”
Charlie laughs, having won money.
“My name is Charlie... Charlie Weasley.”
“You can call me... Call me, 'The Archer'.”
“Ah, a tease, huh?”
She laughs in an appealing manner, admitting her guilt.
“So, what brings'The Archer' to this part of the mountain? I wasn't aware anyone else was scheduled here today.”
“Well, actually, Charlie Weasley... I came to bathe, too.”
Charlie watches as she blushes and then smiles at her own predicament. He decides he likes her smile, very much.
An awkward pause ensues.
Charlie clears his throat and says, “Right, well, since I'm done here, I guess I'll just climb out, get dressed and leave the spring to you.”
“If you don't mind, Charlie?”
The lilting, plaintive sound of her delicate voice is beginning to affect Charlie.
Smiling, Charlie says,“I don't mind... 'Archer'.”
Not waiting to see if she would turn away or cover her eyes, Charlie swims to the edge and pulls himself upwards and out of the spring. He walks gingerly over to his clothes, grabbing his towel and undergarments. With his back to the spring, he drys himself briskly, dons his underleggings and pants. He turns back and can see the girl is over with her dragon mount, removing the bow and quiver and her outer riding gear.
“I wonder if she watched me,” he whispers, privately. “I wonder, if she wonders, if I wonder, if she watched me?” Charlie chuckles deeply.
He walks over the the edge of the water and dips one foot in to remove the dirt from it before pulling a sock up and putting his shoe on. He keeps sneaking little peeks towards the girl and the Hokkaidan.
“She blends in with her mount and the steam too easily,” he says quietly.
Charlie finishes with his second foot and stands back up, walking slowly over to his shirt, jacket, and small pile of gear. He dons his layers of shirts and vest, takes a moment to check his pockets, and then pulls on his coat.
The sound of crunching footsteps causes Charlie to turn. The girl and her dragon are walking slowly closer to the water; the dragon's left wing stretching carefully out and around the girl in a possessive manner, as she is wearing only a loose undershirt over her body. Her hair, which catches Charlie's' eyes, is braided in one long thick tail, which hangs down over her right shoulder and breast to fall out of sight, behind the wing of the dragon. A few loose bangs drift over her face, blowing in the mountain wind. Her hands grasp her own shoulders as she tries to keep warm in the coolness of the air.
Feeling like a voyeur, Charlie drops his gaze and says aloud, “I hope I meet you again, 'Archer'.”
“Me too, Charlie Weasley!” is her reply, softly heard across the spring pool.
For one last moment, they both lock eyes, until then a deep rumble from the belly of the beast distracts them both.
Charlie gathers his kit and pack, takes hold of his walking staff, and begins the hike back to the field shelter. He knows it will be a long, lonely night.
Part 1 – A hot water spring in the Romanian Carpathians, above the Transylvanian Plateau. The Dragon Preserve.
*
Late summer and early autumn in the Carpathians of Romania can be a unique, if not unnerving, experience. Peace and quiet cease to exist, as if slipping into a state of hibernation, until the deep snows blanket the steep slopes; until after the Dragons mate.
For it is only during abrief period of one month, once every seven years, before the snows come, that a female will rise. Female pheromones assail the senses, traveling on thermal breezes; raucous calls echo from the rocky slopes, piercing the deepest glen; wings flecked in platinum dust flash bright sunlight; all tricks and ploys to try and gain the favor of a healthy male.
The ritual itself is nothing short of spectacular, as the chosen male will soar with his chooser high into the atmosphere, where they will lock talons, and then begin to free-fall. The higher the flight, the more successful the clutch.
The Dragon Preserve in Romania is the largest and the most famous of its kind. It is also one of the very last. Less than two hundred years ago, there were more than a dozen. Now, with the encroachment of industrialized societies, continental wars, and the befouling of huge tracts of land by deforestation and pollutants, not to mention the failures of the Wizarding world to protect them, there are now only three Preserves left.
More than ten species of dragon inhabit the Preserve currently. More than 400 dragons.
They live on the Plateau and beneath, amongst the trees above and in the caves below. They nest inside the mountains to the east and west, and on them. Some eat goats and sheep, others, men, if they can.
Amidst these 400+Dragons, live the Dragon Wardens. Wizards, Witches, Bards, Druids, Priests and Monks; the Wardens dedicate their lives to maintaining abalance with nature that ensures the survival of the dragons.
*
“This is nuts, I've got to be nuts.”
Charlie Weasley sits on a flat rock, shivering and all goose-pimply, partially submerged in ahot water spring. With a handful of sand in one hand and a fistful of moss in the other, he scrubs his barely wet, naked body, not using any soaps or chemicals that would pollute, or more importantly, leave a scent that a dragon would pick up.
As he finishes with his body, he places the excess sand and the moss mop onto the ground at the side of the water pool, near his pile of clothes. He moves off the rock and submerges himself completely in the deeper end. Charlie luxuriates in the heat for a few moments, feeling the steam on his wet face.
Swimming back to the side, he takes a small amount of sand in his hand and begins to scrub at his scalp and closely cropped hair. He stops for a moment, listening to the far off challenge of a Romanian Longhorn, as she wards off another- most likely. Charlie ignores the sound and submerges again to free the sand from his hair. He holds his breath for ten, then twenty more seconds. He bursts back to the surface, expelling a lungful of air and breathing in more. He hears the challenge again.
“Sounds like Agatha,” he tells himself out loud. Agatha is the dominant female on this slope; all the wardens assigned to this area know her.
“You know the dragon calls pretty good!”
Charlie, sputtering and coughing, turns himself about, taken completely by surprise.
On the other side of the spring, a Japanese girl stands, looking at Charlie with her hands on her hips and an admiring smile of her attractive, doll-like face. Wearing a complete outfit in white dragon leather, she blends in well with the slowly rising tendrils of steam, which is what Charlie sees from his point of view. She appears to be wearing an unstrung bow behind her back and a quiver of arrows at her waist.
As the steam tendrils part, Charlie gasps, for upon the ground, reclining several yards behind the girl, is a Hokkaidan White Hellion, which is eyeing him rather suspiciously.
The Japanese girl laughs delicately, watching the red-headed man, both well muscled and well freckled, look first at her, then her mount, then her body, her face, and again, her mount.
“I s'pose it was you and your mount that set off Agatha?”
“Did she mate?”
“Last week, with Silas.”
“Iie, I lost money on that one!”
Charlie laughs, having won money.
“My name is Charlie... Charlie Weasley.”
“You can call me... Call me, 'The Archer'.”
“Ah, a tease, huh?”
She laughs in an appealing manner, admitting her guilt.
“So, what brings'The Archer' to this part of the mountain? I wasn't aware anyone else was scheduled here today.”
“Well, actually, Charlie Weasley... I came to bathe, too.”
Charlie watches as she blushes and then smiles at her own predicament. He decides he likes her smile, very much.
An awkward pause ensues.
Charlie clears his throat and says, “Right, well, since I'm done here, I guess I'll just climb out, get dressed and leave the spring to you.”
“If you don't mind, Charlie?”
The lilting, plaintive sound of her delicate voice is beginning to affect Charlie.
Smiling, Charlie says,“I don't mind... 'Archer'.”
Not waiting to see if she would turn away or cover her eyes, Charlie swims to the edge and pulls himself upwards and out of the spring. He walks gingerly over to his clothes, grabbing his towel and undergarments. With his back to the spring, he drys himself briskly, dons his underleggings and pants. He turns back and can see the girl is over with her dragon mount, removing the bow and quiver and her outer riding gear.
“I wonder if she watched me,” he whispers, privately. “I wonder, if she wonders, if I wonder, if she watched me?” Charlie chuckles deeply.
He walks over the the edge of the water and dips one foot in to remove the dirt from it before pulling a sock up and putting his shoe on. He keeps sneaking little peeks towards the girl and the Hokkaidan.
“She blends in with her mount and the steam too easily,” he says quietly.
Charlie finishes with his second foot and stands back up, walking slowly over to his shirt, jacket, and small pile of gear. He dons his layers of shirts and vest, takes a moment to check his pockets, and then pulls on his coat.
The sound of crunching footsteps causes Charlie to turn. The girl and her dragon are walking slowly closer to the water; the dragon's left wing stretching carefully out and around the girl in a possessive manner, as she is wearing only a loose undershirt over her body. Her hair, which catches Charlie's' eyes, is braided in one long thick tail, which hangs down over her right shoulder and breast to fall out of sight, behind the wing of the dragon. A few loose bangs drift over her face, blowing in the mountain wind. Her hands grasp her own shoulders as she tries to keep warm in the coolness of the air.
Feeling like a voyeur, Charlie drops his gaze and says aloud, “I hope I meet you again, 'Archer'.”
“Me too, Charlie Weasley!” is her reply, softly heard across the spring pool.
For one last moment, they both lock eyes, until then a deep rumble from the belly of the beast distracts them both.
Charlie gathers his kit and pack, takes hold of his walking staff, and begins the hike back to the field shelter. He knows it will be a long, lonely night.
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