The dragon pens were as spacious as the office was cramped. Draco carefully picked his way along the muddy path to the large stone hospital ring, or “the lion pit” as Moray liked to call it. However, today’s lion was no kitten. The early morning sun glinted off the blue-grey scales of the Short-Snout which lay immobilized on the grassy ground.
Walking around the vast bulk of the beast, Draco faced the small group gathered around him. “Figure eight knots,” he said tersely, “we’ll want to keep the lines taut for extra control.” He paused for a moment, considering. “You two had better take the main body and wings,” he said with a grudging nod to Moray and Donaghue. “The rookie and I will keep the head controlled.”
Moray looked concerned. “Do you really want a rookie at the head, boss?”
“Do I have a choice?” Draco asked with a snort. “I need your weight down lower in case things get out of hand. If the wings get loose the healing won’t take. We’ll take it nice and easy, just like we’ve done before.”
Without another word Moray and Donaghue took the coils of rope he offered them and began carefully pulling them over the dragon’s torso and around the vast, widespread wings. Elaine took another, quickly tethering the right wing to the ground before spreading the contents of her bag within easy reach. The wing in front of her was tattered, five long gashes running through the heavy membrane to the jointure at its back.
Draco turned to Adam, watching as the young man stared at the brisk and efficient movements. “You are a point man,” he drawled. “May I safely assume that you know what that is?”
“Yes, sir.”
Draco cocked an eyebrow, waiting patiently.
Adam flushed and continued. “A point man is one of the men, or women,” he amended carefully, “who helps to control a dragon’s movements, often while another witch or wizard is moving in towards the dragon.”
“Then you also know why being a point man is an incredibly important job.”
“Because one wizard’s spell alone can’t subdue a dragon.”
“No,” Draco barked. “Because at every moment you are holding someone else’s life in your hands. Because you are responsible for the safety of every man and woman in the vicinity. And because you are also responsible for the well being of the dragon, a sentient creature which is temporarily in your care, at your mercy, and fantastically dangerous. Now that is a lot of responsibility to live up to, rookie. Any questions?”
Adam paused, unsure if this was a test. As Draco cocked a questioning eyebrow he nervously plowed on. “Why can’t we just keep the dragon stunned?”
To his amazement and surprise, Draco smiled. “That,” he said clapping the young man on the shoulder, “is an intelligent question. It would be safer for all of us to simply heal the dragon as is, retreat a safe distance, and see it on its way. But the goal is to allow the dragon to fly again. Healing is not an easy business, especially in a case like this. Elaine needs to keep the blood flowing through the wing to test proper nerve formation in the membrane. Also several tendons have been cut near the joint. If we want these to restore to the proper length and tension we will need to keep the wing mobile in the socket.”
“So,” Adam mused to himself, “without the risk the dragon won’t ever fly again?”
“A dragon that can’t fly is a dead dragon,” Draco murmured softly, although Adam had the distinct impression that the words were for Draco more than himself. Shaking his platinum head to clear it, Draco jerked back to the present.
Pulling a loop of green rope off his shoulder, Draco thrust it at the younger man. “Unbreakable and fireproof,” he explained, giving a hard tug on one of the loose ends. “Thread it through the loop on the collar, around the neck, and back through the loop.”
Cautiously, Adam approached the still form of the dragon, his fingers skimming over the glossy scales of its neck as he pulled the free end of the rope through an iron loop on the leather collar it wore. Trying to move with confidence, he stretched his arms until he was almost hugging the great blue-grey neck, trading the rope from his right hand to his left. A short, triumphant tug and it was around and threaded again through the iron ring. As he stepped back, Adam winced at the scrapes his knuckles had gained when he rubbed them against the scales the wrong way.
Adam watched as Draco looped his own rope around the dragon’s neck. Long, slender fingers pulled at the leather collar, twitched the iron ring, seeking and probing for a flaw, any flaw, to appear. As Draco stepped back, Adam noticed, to his chagrin, that Draco’s knuckles were uncut. His own hand only seemed to sting more sharply by contrast.
“Not bad,” Draco commented, although the hidden amusement in his eyes belied the way he had guessed at Adam’s thoughts. Offhand he added, “Extract of Murtlap will help with the sting. Left-hand side of the general supplies closet, three shelves up.”
“Thank you,” Adam stammered, a slight flush blossoming on his cheeks. “But I’ll be fine.”
“’Course you will,” Draco commented blandly. “Well, then if you could pick up a jar for me, then, I’d be much obliged.”
“You?”
“Mmm,” Draco grunted, pulling the loose ends of the green rope through a complicated series of pulleys on the ground.
“Yes, sir!”
Smiling to himself, Draco knew that two jars of the stuff would be gone by nightfall. In two weeks he’d sneak his back into the closet and hope Adam wasn’t in charge of inventory for a few days. Hopefully, luck would be with him on that, as it had in the past.
“All right, rookie, here’s where things get complicated.” Draco pointed to one of the loose ends and a short metal pole that stuck out of the ground nearby. “Tie that to the pole with a Wizard’s Hitch, that means…”
“That the side to the dragon will remain rock solid but the knot can be quickly released in emergencies,” Adam finished, as though reciting from a textbook.
Draco smiled. “Good. You’ll be here on the left. I’m taking the right so I can keep an eye on Elaine. Donaghue will check your work.” He began walking around the motionless head. “Get tied down,” he called over his shoulder.
Frowning in concentration for a moment, Adam slipped the rope into the many loops of the Wizard’s Hitch, gently removing any slack between the pole and the pulleys. He didn’t even notice Donaghue’s presence at first until a pair of large hands crept into his vision, quickly and surely tugging on various areas of the rope.
“Looks good, boss,” the Scotsman bellowed.
Across the arena Draco nodded. “Take in the slack.”
Adam grabbed the untied end of the rope, pulling on it until the entire rope stretched taut from collar to ends.
“Brace.”
Around the arena the wizards dug their feet into the ground in grim preparedness.
“Enervate!”
For a moment it seemed as though nothing happened. Then the dragon shuddered, and began to thrash against its restraining bonds.
Draco smiled. There was something about the beast that was so magnificent, even bound. His palms ached where the rope rubbed against them, refusing to give up even a centimeter. As always, he found himself grateful for the wizards who engineered the pulley system that bore the beast’s weight. His muscles screamed as the dragon fought, and he marveled at Elaine’s calm reassurance as she deftly began to heal the wing with potions and complicated wand work. But then again, as he had learned in the past, there was something about being that close to death that made it easy to focus on the details with a calm detachment, as though nothing else really mattered any more anyway.
“I need to roll him to the left,” Elaine’s voice, magically amplified, rang over the arena.
“Rookie, Donaghue, take in slack, keep the lines taut. Moray, pacing on my signal,” Draco projected. “One, two, three, four, five, six…”
“Hold!”
“Brace!” Draco commanded at Elaine’s signal.
The dragon shuddered again and Draco heard a sudden cry across the arena. In taking up the slack, Adam had stepped over the quick release end of the rope. A coil had snagged his ankle, and the dragon’s movement had pulled him off his feet and released the restraining knot.
Time slowed down for Draco as he watched the blue-grey head turning towards the small creature pestering its wounded wing. He couldn’t remember locking down his side of the rope with the emergency mechanism, although his hands went through the motions. He couldn’t remember shouting an inarticulate warning as he dashed across the field. He couldn’t remember shoving Elaine out of the way, shoving her so hard she sprawled in the grass several yards away.
All he knew was that when time resumed, he was staring into the face of the dragon as the great mouth began to open. As the flames shot towards him, he found himself falling under the heat, his wand raised and his parched throat shouted, “protego!” Dimly, he thought he heard a second voice joining his for the shielding charm, but then it didn’t matter, for after a moment of exquisite agony everything went dark.