The Red Dragon | Charlie Weasley

Chapter 13

The music is significantly softer in the booth, a kind of background noise. As they take a seat on the couches that make up the booth, Haela notices how quiet the rest of the people have been since they arrived. The couches are occupied by plenty of men and women, pressing Haela and Charlie together as they sit opposite Vaezor who has reclined on the couch as if it is his personal throne.

When Haela sneaks a glance at the woman seated on her left, she notices the blank look on the woman's face and her eyes staring vacantly into the distance. An uneasy feeling creeps up Haela's spine and she turns to look at one of the men across from her. He, too, has a blank expression on his face, his eyes distant.

"A drink?"

Vaezor's voice breaks Haela out of her thoughts and she turns her attention back to the man. Charlie nods in response and Vaezor turns to Rafael who is still standing at the entrance of the booth, waiting. Vaezor snaps his fingers and barks an order in Catalan. Rafael bows before disappearing in the direction of the bar.

Beside Haela, Charlie shifts in his seat and throws an arm around the back of the couch behind Haela. Vaezor eyes them with interest as Haela leans back into Charlie's touch. His body is a source of heat at her side.

"Is this your club?" Charlie asks, an easy smile playing on his lips.

Vaezor laughs, an ominous sound as he waves one hand through the air, shimmers of his magic trailing behind: "This is not my club, no. It's owned by a couple of Muggles, but since I do plenty of business here, I have a personal booth. What do you think of it? Those useless Muggles created a fine enough establishment, am I right?"

Great, Haela thinks, another wizard who thinks Muggles are less. How original.

Charlie glances at the people in the booth before turning to Vaezor. The man seems to notice and laughs: "Don't worry, my friend, we can speak freely here. These brainless Muggles won't remember a thing. It's their best quality."

At those words, Haela stiffens. She eyes the woman beside her once again and finally recognizes the blank expression for what it is. It's been ages since she'd seen the Imperius curse in practice.

If Charlie shares Haela's thoughts, he's much better at hiding them as the Dragonologist chuckles and says: "I must say, the atmosphere on the dancefloor and the building itself are great."

In an attempt to divert her thoughts from the Unforgivable Curse these poor Muggles are under, Haela looks around the part of the V.I.P. section they are in. If compared to the places in Knockturn Alley where Haela knows the worst deals are made, this place is more upscale – and definitely a lot cleaner.

"Yes, yes," Vaezor responds, "Rafael told me he saw you on the dance floor. I'm glad you are enjoying Andorra."

"The country is lovely," Haela says, a smile plastered onto her face, "We were surprised to hear the wizarding community isn't very large around here."

"Unfortunately not. We are forced to hide ourselves from Muggles. Too many incidents in the past have made us cautious."

They spend a few minutes talking about the country. Vaezor tells them about the war between Muggles and wizards that raged a century ago and how the Andorran Ministry of Magic has been more careful with their relations with the Muggle community ever since. They are interrupted by Rius returning. He is holding a bottle of dark-coloured liquid and four glasses are conjured out of thin air. The man presents the bottle to Vaezor with another bow before moving to take a seat.

Vaezor snatches the bottle from Rius before barking something in Catalan. Rius jumps up again, bows for a third time, and almost flees the booth.