The Uncle From America

Chapter 10

Hogwarts

Hermione nearly tore the envelopes she received that morning. She was quite proud of her self-control as she had waited to be at an isolated table in the Library to do so. She had desperately been seeking for efficient spells, or other things to go against dragons. The not-quite-useful answers she had found in her usually reliable books had shaken her. After a rather explicit SOS sent across the Atlantic, replies had –thankfully- returned fast and on the same day.

She dreaded slightly the reaction of her uncle to the news, so started with his.

'November 18th

SERIOUSLY, DRAGONS? You are so lucky I'm being sent on serious business, or I would have harassed Maria to bring me to your damn school and have words with your headmaster and whoever had this wonderful of including dragons –DRAGONS- in a tournament for unprepared children! Seventeen isn't quite a child anymore but heck Hermione, after what I've heard about this Tournament, I thought they'd be more cautious or something! Do keep me updated on the situation.

Maria said something about a sleeping spell 'somnumon'. Depending on your friend's magical strength it might just dull the dragon's reflexes instead of making it fall asleep. And there's a flameproof spell 'contignusa' that protects even against magical flames. Hope it'll help.

And KEEP ME POSTED.

Clint'

Hermione winced slightly at her uncle's tirade, thanking whoever was 'In Charge' up there that he had not heard of Howlers. She did frown at the remark on the dangerousness of these tasks. Had she not been participating in the Tournament, she might have been impressed at the unsuspected part. Now that Harry was involved, her opinion had changed radically. She momentarily imagined Clint standing up to Dumbledore, spitting and rambling angrily while the headmaster nodded with infinite patience. Or how would officials react facing him and Natasha, armed to teeth. She had no illusion on their chances against trained to combat wizards, but Hermione was quite sure even Aurors could be thrown off by the element of surprise. And her uncle was very well-trained, even for muggle standards...

Pushing the thought aside, she grabbed her quill and scribed down the two new spells on the list of the very few things she had found so far. She had wanted Hill's opinion, as an adult with likely a different knowledge of Britain. And she wasn't disappointed since she hadn't found 'somnumon' or 'contignusa' during her researches. A lot calmer, now that she had something new to work on, she opened the second letter.

November 19th

Tell him to use a muggle gun and shoot its eyes. It should kill it on spot. More seriously, Don says weak points are eyes and under the chin or the junction of the shoulders if it has wings, so a basic repulsive spell should keep it at bay. Or if it needs a distraction, try to transfigure something to keeps its attention busy, like a myriad of birds or a pig to be eaten. I read somewhere that mandragore leaves are like dragon-nip...can't hurt to try. Hope your friend will be fine.

By the way, be sure to keep a spare day or two during Christmas vacation; Gretel and Don Juan have something planned for us.

Fish and the Melting Pot'

The last line made her pause in an unsuspected way. Christmas. She hadn't made plans for Christmas yet, distracted from the current events. Frowning, Hermione turned towards her Tumpress and said:

"Blue, memo note activated."

The small blue bear blinked at her and tilted its head on the side. Its left ear grew and eyes widened. It whined encouragingly and Hermione spoke:

"Next letter to Clint, ask for Christmas plans. End note."

Blue chirped happily as its ear found its normal size again and crawled to her hand for a petting. Hermione smiled and scratched the teddy's back. That was, until Crookshanks got jealous of the attention and, jumping on her desk and nudged the Tumpress away. Blue dropped on the ground with a startled 'iiiik'. The cat glared reproachfully at Hermione, who was doing her best not to laugh at their antics. She picked up a whining Blue, set it on her knees for further petting with her left hand, while her right caressed Crookshanks. Still grumpy but satisfied with the compromise, the cat stretched over her letters and closed its eyes to purr.