Harry Potter: Dragon Whisperer

Appointments

2:35pm

Wednesday, 1 September 1995

Dragon Weyr of Great Britain

Papa Stour, Shetland Islands, Scotland

.

§Speaker, the two-legs have arrived§.

Harry looked across to where Farlys had dropped in beside him, her great wings rising and falling as they flew over the island.

§Thank you, Farlys. I guess we'd better go and talk to them§, he replied. §Are the others aware§?

§Yes, Speaker, they are already winging to the meeting place§, she replied.

It had been peaceful up there in the air with only the winds, clouds and, of course, a dozen or so dragons keeping him company. Indeed, he'd been the only human on the island since he'd arrived that morning, which had given him time to survey the island and to have the conversations that he'd needed to have.

The island of Papa Stour looked remarkedly different from when he'd first laid eyes on it. Not that that was unexpected. More tonnes of rocks had been shipped onto the island than Harry could count in the past week. And, once they had arrived and the shrinking charm had been removed, the dragons had gone to work. Rocks and boulders ranging in size from small cars to a triple-decker bus had been caught up by the dragons and moved around the island.

Most of the dragons had turned the rocks that they'd gathered into great nests; others had been more ambitious and piled the rocks carefully on top of each other to create dragon-sized caves. The location of each weyr had been carefully chosen by each dragon and from what Harry could tell, there had been very few disagreements among them over who 'settled' where. By mutual decision, the area around the buildings that would be used by the human dragon handlers was given a wide berth by all dragons.

Bringing his broom around, Harry lay flat against the handle and put on a burst of speed. For a brief instant, he wondered whether he could get to the upcoming meeting first. The green nose of Farlys reappearing in his peripheral vision abused him of the notion.

As he and Farlys approached the buildings, the other dragons that had been flying with him pealed away. Five dragons had arrived before them and Harry marvelled once again at seeing so many different types and colours of dragons together – Hungarian Horntail, Ukrainian Ironbelly, Norwegian Ridgeback and two Hibernian Blacks – soon to be added to by Farlys' Common Welsh Green joining them. The three wizards and one witch were nearby, their distance from the dragons indicating their varying levels of braveness.

"Harry!" Charlie called, raising his hand in greeting.

"Hey, Charlie," Harry replied as he landed beside his friend before nodding to the other three. "Madam Grimblehawk, Angus, Minister Fudge."

"Mister Potter," Fudge replied, bustling forward with his hand outstretched, both eyes firmly locked onto the bulk of the dragons behind Harry.

"I've told you before, Minister," Harry sighed. "The dragons won't hurt you unless you hurt them first."

"Yes. Quite so," Fudge replied, clearing his throat and pulling off his green bowler hat and holding it in front of his chest as though it was some kind of shield.

"Thank you for meeting us, Harry," Mathilda smiled. She then turned to the dragons and bowed to them, just as she'd seen Harry himself do. "If you would give my greetings to the dragons, Harry and tell them that we value their input in the decisions today?"

Harry blinked at her, surprised by her actions. It did, though, solidify the idea that he'd had in mind for a while now.

§My friends, Mathilda greets you all and thanks you for being here. She asks for your wise counsel this day in the discussions of the two-legs§, he said.