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Dragon!


On the morning of 2 September, Bilius Weasley was baby-sitting his elder nephews.

Molly and Arthur were bringing Percy with them on a day-long trip for Arthur’s work at the Ministry, but Bill and Charlie was staying at home with Bilius. Molly was nervous about leaving them - especially with Bilius in whom she admittedly did not have the most confidence - and had told Bilius several times to be absolutely certain he keep a very, very close watch on the two boys. “They’re easy to take care of when they’re on their own,” she warned, “But you put the two of them together and they get into a right bit of trouble, mind… a right bit of trouble. Always into something, those two!”

“Seriously, Molls,” said Bilius, grinning and rolling his eyes playfully, “I think I can handle it. They’re toddlers, practically! How much trouble can they possibly manage to get into? You two aren’t going to be any trouble, are you?” he looked at Charlie and Bill.

“None!” said Bill.

“None!” echoed Charlie as he hugged his stuffed Chinese Firebolt dragon.

Arthur patted Molly’s shoulders, “They’ll be alright, Mollywobbles, now let’s go.” He’d already packed Percy up into the old Ford Anglia and he steered her out the door before she could come up with another word of protest or give Bilius any further warnings. The list of people to send a patronus to in the event of an emergency was already as long as the refrigerator was tall, and included everyone from the neighbors to Auntie Muriel to Albus Dumbledore himself.

Bilius stood in the doorway with Charlie hoisted on one hip and Bill at his side. “Bye!” he called, waving.

“Bye-bye!” echoed Charlie.

The moment the blue Ford Anglia had pulled out of the drive and disappeared past the duck pond, dust obliterating their view of the tail lights, Bill had turned to look up at his uncle with his wide green eyes. “It’s hot out, Uncle Bilius,” he complained. “We should get ice cream cones.”

Bilius had thought this over a moment. “Alright, sure,” he said. He had to admit that he sort of fancied the idea of getting a scoop or two at Florean Fortescue’s and he hastened the boys inside to get changed so they could go to Diagon Alley and get the treats. When he’d finished struggling to tie Charlie’s tiny trainers (which had promptly untied themselves again mere seconds after he’d gotten them laced up), they packed up a little backpack with Charlie’s things - a change of pants, just in case, his Chinese Firebolt, and the picture book about dragons that he always had to have with him - and Bilius carried Charlie down the stairs, holding onto Bill’s hand, humming Puff the Magic Dragon, which had become Charlie’s favorite song over the Summer. They crossed the yard and the moment they passed the little stone wall, where gnomes were climbing over into the yard, Bilius said, “Hold tight!” to Bill, squeezed his hand, and disapparated.

With a crack, the three of them appeared a moment later in the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron, just off Diagon Alley.

Diagon Alley was crowded and there were people bustling every which way. Most of the traffic was parents picking up last minute items their kids had forgotten for Hogwarts, and there was a long queue at the post office and a shortage of owls so that there were quite a few people pressing to get in the doors at Eeyelop’s Owl Emporium as well. Bill stared at the queuing crowds with wide eyes as they shouted and jostled against one another - it was the sort of thing he and Charlie often did, trying to get the last cookie from a tray or to get to a particular colour of crayon first when colouring.

They walked along the street and Bilius was careful to keep a hold on Bill’s little hand - even though it was sweaty and sort of sticky and he didn’t much fancy the texture of it. Charlie kicked his chubby legs and begged to get down but Bilius said, “No way, Chuck. Your mum would bloody murder me if you got away and I’ve seen you dart off! You’re a wild man.”

Charlie giggled, “Wild man!” he echoed. “Put me down!”

“Nope.”

They were coming to the fork in the road and there before them loomed the great white building of Gringott’s Bank - all wonky and topsy turvy as the shape of it had been constructed to fit into the space it was given - and Bill stared up at it in awe. The white marble was very impressive in the sunlight that glowed down from the sky and he tugged on Bilius’s hand. “Uncle Bilius,” he asked, pointing, “What’s that?”

Bilius looked, pausing as Bill stopped eagerly to take a longer look. “That’s Gringott’s Bank,” Bilius replied. “It’s run by Goblins.”

“Goblins?” gasped Bill, his eyes wide, “Wow. Real Goblins?”

“As real as you and I,” Bilius replied.

“Goblins!” echoed Charlie.

“There’s loads and loads and loads of treasure and jewels in there,” said Bilius, “More than you could ever count in gold.” He stared up at the bank’s looming architecture. “Safest place in all of the world to store your treasure, they say. The Goblins protect it fiercely, and it’s the only bank in the UK that still uses a dragon-fire security system.”

“Drrraaaagon,” sing-songed Charlie from Bilius’s hip.

“That’s right,” Bilius nodded, “Dragon.”

Bill stared wide-eyed up at Bilius, “There’s a real dragon in there? Alive?”

“Sure is.”

“Let’s go see it!” Bill cried and he started to run forward.

Bilius thanked Merlin immediately that he hadn’t let go of Bill’s sticky little fist… He squeezed tighter, stopping him running off, and pulled him back. “Uh-uh, not so fast, little man. It isn’t a zoo, you can’t go running in and visit with the beast. It’s meters and meters below the ground in the very bottom, where the very most high security vaults and safes are kept. You’d have to go through loads of other obstacles to get down there to see the dragon -- and even if you did, he’d fry you up like a nice little crisp!”

Bill’s eyes widened.

“And trust me, you don’t want to go messing about and annoying the goblins of Gringott’s -- they gotta feed the dragon something and there ain’t nothing like a barbequed thief.” Bilius’s voice was very solemn, “You would taste very good with ketchup to a dragon.”

“Dragon!” Charlie said, laughing.

Bill reluctantly let Bilius drag him along down Diagon Alley, away from the wizarding bank, but he kept looking over his shoulder at the white marble building until they’d gone far enough that it was out of sight and he could no longer see the gleaming white stone.

Bilius brought the boys into Florean Fortescue’s and they stood on the queue for the ice cream. Bill was really excited for buttered popcorn flavored ice cream and Charlie wanted “green” - which turned out to be a mint flavor - and they sat out on the plastic pink chairs in front of the shoppe and ate their scoops. Bilius put his feet up on the next chair and Charlie sat on his legs and when he’d finished his ice cream, he played with his stuffed Chinese Firebolt and made him hop about on the table and pretend to eat the leftover, melting mint ice cream.

Bilius was half asleep, listening as Bill rambled about a game of exploding snap he’d played with Arthur the day before - giving a far too drawn out play-by-play account of it - when he spotted Chriselda Blythe away across the street, standing impatiently in a line at Flourish and Blott’s.

“OI! CHRISS!” Bilius shouted. But she didn’t seem to hear him. “CHRISS!” Frustrated, he pushed himself up from his seat, plopping Charlie down on the plastic chair he’d just vacated. “Bill, watch your brother a mo’ -” he said, “Do not leave this table, I mean it. I’ll be right back.”

“Alright,” Bill answered.

Charlie echoed, “Alright!”

And Bilius ran, jumping over the little fence that blocked in part of the patio in front of Fortescue’s, and hurried over to where Chriselda Blythe stood in the line, craning her neck to see how long a wait she still had to get in. “Hey! Chriss!” Bilius said, running up beside her, “Oi, I was calling you but I don’t reckon you heard me. How’ve you been? I haven’t seen you in ages.”

Chriselda stared at him a moment, the surprise at how much he’d aged apparent in her eyes. For Bilius Weasley had aged a good deal since the days when he’d been at Hogwarts with Derek Bell and even since she’d seen him last the year before. He had a scruffy bit of beard growing on his throat and his eyes, though excited now, were dimmer than they ever would’ve been before. His clothes were frumpled. Of course partly that was because he’d been carrying Charlie all morning, but still.

“Bilius,” she said, “I’m well. And you?”

“Good, great, grand,” he answered, and they started chatting - just small talk, like the weather and how long it had been and all of that.

“So are you a da then?” Chriselda asked, pointing to the little backpack that hung from Charlie’s shoulder.

“Oh bloody hell no,” Bilius laughed, “I’m just baby-sitting my brother Arthur’s ickle ones -- Bill and Charlie -- they’re just over there at Fortescue’s --” and he turned, pointing back to the table where he’d left Bill and Charlie.

But the table was empty.

“Oh no.”