That evening, in the Gryffindor common room.
Ron had spread out a sheet of parchment on the table and was attempting to write a letter to Charlie, though the evidence suggested he was struggling considerably.
He had written a few lines, scratched them out, written a few more, and erased those as well, staring at the parchment as though it had personally offended him.
Hermione arrived carrying a plate of fruit, glanced at the table, and immediately frowned.
"What exactly are you trying to write?"
"A letter. Obviously," Ron said with some irritation.
"It looks more like a ransom note someone assembled at random," Hermione said, setting down the fruit plate. "Let me see it."
Ron held the parchment up, gave it one last look himself, then handed it over.
Hermione spread it out and cleared her throat.
"'Deer Charlie'—" She paused and pointed to the word. "It's D-E-A-R. You've written the animal."
She continued reading aloud.
"'I met a respectable person at school, not one of those arrogant pure-blood scumbags, bloody hell, he's a real gentleman, you know me, I never exaggerate, and George and Fred get along well with him. Anyway, I'm eating crisps as I write this, and I'm a bit thirsty now. I don't know when Harry will bring me something to drink—'"
Hermione set the parchment down.
"Ron. What are you actually trying to say?"
"Just that Henry's building a nature reserve and wants Charlie to come back to England to run it, so Mum will be happy," he said with a shrug.
"Then why," Hermione said patiently, sliding a fresh sheet of blank parchment toward him, "don't you simply write that? Leave out everything irrelevant, and please refrain from your usual expressions."
She shifted position and tapped the parchment with one finger. "Follow along. Write this down."
"'Dear Charlie, how have you been? How are things in Romania?
I have something important to tell you. Hagrid, the gamekeeper at Hogwarts, recently acquired a Norwegian Ridgeback hatchling. It's only a month old, but it's already growing at a remarkable pace, too fast for Hagrid to manage. He's been worrying about what will happen to it.
There's a solution, though. His Highness Prince Henry is funding the construction of a magical creature sanctuary in the Scottish Highlands. They need qualified experts to lead it, particularly someone who understands dragons.
I thought of you immediately. If you came back as the chief expert, it would be better than staying in Romania in every way. You'd be closer to home, and Mum could actually see you.
Speaking of which, Mum mentions you in every single letter she sends. She'd be overjoyed if you came back.
His Highness is genuinely a good person. You don't need to have any reservations. He's nothing like the arrogant pure-bloods you might be imagining, he actually wants to do something worthwhile.
If you're willing, please write back as soon as you can. Any conditions you have, you can raise directly with His Highness.
Your brother,
Ron'"
Ron read back over what he had written and showed it to Hermione.
"How is it?" he asked.
Hermione reviewed it carefully and nodded. "Better. A few words are still misspelled, but the meaning comes through clearly enough. Charlie will understand."
Ron rolled his eyes. "Could you not just say it's good?"
"I will," Hermione replied, "once you've managed to spell all the words correctly."
One day later, at the dragon reserve in Romania.
Charlie Weasley was at the enclosure fence, carefully attending to the injuries of a young Hungarian Horntail.
The dragon was being thoroughly uncooperative; its tail swung out abruptly and nearly knocked him off his feet.
"Settle down," Charlie muttered, directing his wand to steady the creature's tail.
An owl arrived at that moment, flying in with rather less grace than the breed typically managed, and collided with his shoulder before dropping to the ground.
Charlie reached down, handed the owl off to a nearby colleague, and opened the letter. Ron's handwriting.
He read it through once. Then he read it again, slower.
Then he smiled.
"That boy," he murmured, folding the letter, "he actually figured out how to ask for a favor properly."
He tucked the letter away and turned back toward camp. This was something he needed to write to his mother about first.
The following day, at the Burrow.
Molly Weasley was occupied in the kitchen, pots and pans clattering in the familiar rhythm of a large meal in preparation.
An owl flew in through the open window and deposited a letter directly into the washing-up basin.
Molly fished it out, dried it hastily, and tore it open. Charlie's handwriting.
"Dear Mum,
Ron wrote to me saying there's a magical creature sanctuary being built in England and that they need experts to lead it. He knows the person behind the project and has asked if I'd consider coming back as chief expert.
I'd like to know what you think. If you want me to come back, I will. If you'd rather I stay in Romania, I'll stay.
Waiting for your reply.
All my love,
Charlie"
Molly finished reading, and for a moment she simply stood there, the letter trembling slightly in her hands.
Then she smiled, and as she smiled, tears began rolling down her face.
"Arthur!" she called toward the living room. "Come here, quickly!"
Arthur Weasley hurried in from the other room, a half-modified Muggle electric screwdriver still in hand. "What is it? What's happened?"
Molly pressed the letter into his hands without a word.
Arthur read it, and went very still.
"Charlie's coming back?" He looked up at her, genuinely bewildered. "How on earth does Ron have connections like this?"
He knew about the nature reserve, of course. Fudge had been practically strutting ever since the announcement, carrying himself as though he had single-handedly driven the Dark Lord from Britain.
Arthur also knew that the young Muggle royal who had initiated the whole project was apparently enrolled in Slytherin, though he had never for a moment imagined that Ron, of all people, would end up with any sort of relationship with a Slytherin student.
Extraordinary.
"Yes!" Molly said, pressing her apron to her eyes. "That boy Ron actually went and did something useful!"
Arthur laughed warmly. "Well, what are you waiting for? Write back immediately, tell Charlie to come home!"
Another day passed, and that afternoon a second letter from Charlie arrived in Ron's hands.
"Dear Ron,
I got your letter. Mother and I have talked it over and we've decided I should come back.
Before I do, though, I have a few things I need to know.
First, what are the actual plans for this sanctuary? How large is it? How many dragons will it house, and what other magical creatures are involved?
Second, what authority does the chief expert have? Can I put together my own team? What does the budget look like for that?
Third, and I want an honest answer, is His Highness genuinely invested in this, or is it just a passing interest?
If those questions can be answered clearly, I can set off as soon as arrangements are made.
One more thing: I have several colleagues here in Romania who are serious researchers in dragon conservation. If they wanted to come to England along with me, would that be acceptable?
Write back soon.
Charlie
P.S. I'll look after that dragon of Hagrid's. Norbert, was it? Tell Hagrid not to worry."
Ron was on his feet before he had finished the last line.
"He said yes! Charlie's coming!"
Hermione leaned over to read the letter properly. "His questions are very thorough," she said after a moment. "These aren't things you can answer, Ron. His Highness needs to see this."
Ron had already grabbed his bag. "I'm going to find him right now."
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Early chapters: [email protected]/palevolt100