Uncle Charlie wasn't one to visit often, mostly holidays, but when he was around, his relatives usually made an effort to be accommodating. Albus' mum once explained it was like "some magnificent wild beast visiting your yard. You want to keep seeing it, so you don't crowd it, hoping it will feel comfortable enough to comeback more often."

He answered all of Hagrid's questions about dragons with boyish enthusiasm. Scorpius forgot to be cool and aloof as he peppered the older man with questions, almost as many as Hagrid.

In a way, Albus was not surprised it was Uncle Charlie who was going to teach him to fly.

A few Christmases back, the Weasley men got into the eggnog a little heavy and Uncle Bill, Uncle Percy and Grandpa got into an argument with Uncle Ron, Uncle George and Teddy over whether the best flyer in the family was: Albus' dad or Uncle Charlie. The argument ended with some bets exchanged and a "Snitch Catch" scheduled for the next day.

The two competitors were outfitted with old Comet 290's and flew after the Snitch best three out of five.

Albus knew his dad could fly, and he knew his Uncle Charlie escorted dragons on his broomstick, but the swirling, diving, rolling contest that followed was by far, in his mind, the best exhibition of flying he had ever seen. He wasn't alone in that regard as all of his relatives still talked about that day. The contest ended when, at two each, Charlie, who flew everyday, barely out-stretched Albus' dad Harry and took the Snitch.

That became yet another example of the legend that was Uncle Charlie.

Assuring Albus that he needed to get some sleep, Uncle Charlie got up to head back to Victor Krum's ship where he was staying the night. He told Albus that he expected him at the old Dragon Pavilion bright and early. The instructions were clear, 'Don't tell anyone he was visiting, and for Albus to bring a change of clothes with him'.

Charlie gave Rose a hug and annoyingly ruffled Albus' hair before shaking hands with Scorpius and Hagrid, and then was gone.

They headed back to Hogwarts. Walking through the cool dusk up to the twinkling lights of Hogwarts, Scorpius kept talking about the older man he had just met.

"That's your uncle?" Scorpius inquired, awe clear in his voice.

Rose beamed. "Absolutely!"

As she told Scorpius her favourite Charlie story about her uncle's tussel with a nasty Ukranian Ironbelly that had a bad case of flammable halitosis, Albus felt his stomach clench while he contemplated what he was in store for the next day. The only encouragement he had was his dad's statement about what would befall Uncle Charlie if anything happened to Albus. What was the problem with that? Between, 'Scarring you for life', and 'Don't worry, he won't hurt you', there was a lot of room for error. Add in the fact that Uncle Charlie had been dealing with a clientele with fangs and claws for most of his adult life.

"Not good," Albus murmured.

The next morning, Albus made his way across the grounds, with a small travel case, and his wand in his pocket. He was guided by some instructions scribbled on a piece of parchment by Roderick Yates. The older boy raised an eyebrow when he was asked where the Dragon Pavilion was, but when Albus told him he wanted an out of way place to practice flying so he would be ready for the Quidditch try-outs, Roderick gave him the directions with no further question.

It was a long walk, past Hagrid's cottage, around the edge of the Forbidden Forest, until Hogwarts was out of sight completely. Albus made good time arriving outside of the massive enclosure in a little under an hour.

It was shaped like an amphitheatre butted up against a cliff side. It didn't look as though it were used very often.

Rose had told him about it before they left the common room the night before. Built for the first Triwizard task, in his dad's fourth year, the Ministry never tore it down afterwards. They stated it was because of the possibility of the tournament being held at Hogwarts in the future. But more likely, it was a lot of money to build and the Ministry skinflints couldn't see spending that much money on a structure that was going to be disposable.

Albus saw a tent with smoke coming out of its chimney in a field off to the side. He headed over and pushed through the flap into a spacious living room and dining area where his Uncle Charlie was eating breakfast. He had an extra plate of food set out on the table. Albus sat down and tucked in; no words were exchanged until Albus had started on his second kipper.

"You ready to do some flying, son?" Uncle Charlie asked as he leaned back with his coffee.

Albus nodded without meeting his eyes. He didn't want his Uncle to see the terror that was there. No boy wanted to show weakness in front of an adult he respected, and truth be known, Albus wasn't sure he was going to keep his breakfast down with his nerves.

"Well, as soon as you finish, we can get started."

They finished breakfast and Charlie led him over to the pavilion. They walked through a tunnel into the interior.

The place was huge, bigger than the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch, with row upon row of stands surrounding a large arena area with heat-blackened rock. There, looking tiny and solitary, was a broom leaning against a large crate.

"I remember the day your dad faced that Hungarian Horntail. She was gorgeous, but nasty. He really won my respect that day!"

"How so?" Albus asked, hoping to delay the inevitable.

Uncle Charlie smiled at the memory. "Out of all of the contestants, he was the only one to realize he was dealing with a dangerous, but intelligent creature that he needed to outsmart. The rest tried to disable, or trick their dragon. Krum hit his Chinese Fireball in the eye with a curse. He's a friend now, but I still bring that one up! Harry was the only one who used the dragon's instincts, instead of working against them. In a way, that is what I am going to do today with you. I am going to work with your instincts. You've got too much flyer blood in you to not know how to fly deep down. We've just got to get your brain out of the way."

Albus thought those were the most ominous words he had ever heard.

They walked over to the crate, and Uncle Charlie grabbed the broom and tossed it to Albus. Albus caught it and studied it. "This is a Nimbus Millennium!" he exclaimed.

Charlie looked amused. "For a bloke, who's terrified of flying, you know your brooms."

Albus traced the lines with his finger. "I never said I didn't like brooms, just flying them."

Charlie grinned. "Well, what are you waiting for? Mount it!"

Albus held the broom gingerly as he mounted it and waited for further instructions. He had no intention of making this easier on his uncle.

"Try to dismount. I need to check something," his uncle stated offhandedly.

Albus tried to dismount but he couldn't get loose. Images rammed into his head. Him being goaded by his brother to get on the broom, the feeling of panic when he couldn't get loose, the terror as he flew out of control through painful apple-laden boughs in the orchard. He began to breath shallow, the old familiar panic stirring in it's lair somewhere deep in his chest.

"Uncle Charlie, why is there a sticking charm on this broom?" he asked, his voice quavering.

"We need to get through to your instinct. Albus, I'm sorry, there isn't another way."

Albus just then glanced at the brushes. "Why are the twigs scorched?"

Uncle Charlie smirked. "Well, one of the biggest instincts a fellow has is self-preservation."

He walked over to the crate, smacked it with his hand. "Trezeste-te leneş Dragon!" he bellowed. The contents of the crate growled in response.

Terror gripped Albus' heart. "W-what's that?" he managed to squeak.

Charlie smiled, but if it was supposed to be reassuring, it failed. "This, my dear boy, is Ringo. He's not much of a morning person, even for a dragon."

Albus felt his eyes widen almost painfully. "A dragon!"

"Yeah he's a little Chinese Fireball I've been raising. You happen to be stuck to his favourite toy."

Albus was speechless in terror. He felt his chest hitch and his stomach lurch. The beginnings of a first rate panic attack began to cloud his mind.

Charlie's smile faded and his face shut down, becoming as cold as a Romanian winter. "In ten seconds, I am going to let my friend here out to play. I wouldn't be on the ground when he gets out, if I were you."

"B-but Uncle Charlie!"

"One!"

"Don't do this!"

"Two!"

"My mum's going to kill you!"

"I'm not your mum or dad,Albus. You've been coddled enough! Oh, and that's three by the way."

Albus felt tears sliding down his cheeks. He had no words because he was losing his breath.

Charlie showed no sign of mercy. "You can stay here and have a panic attack and meet the dragon, or you can kick off and try to out fly it. Those are your only two options. Oh, in case you can't count, Albus, that's four.

Albus didn't even remember kicking off, but the wind was blowing his hair back, except his cowlick, which was fighting it. The tears dried on his cheek as he headed to the closest side of the pavilion. He pulled up short when he felt the Aversion Charm. He was trapped.

"Ten! Play nice!" Charlie called, as he kicked the bolt on the side of the crate door, it fell with a thud, and a red and gold comet, trailing smoke shot out, straight for Albus.

He wasn't as large as Albus had first thought.

'Merlin! Who cares? It's a bloody dragon!'

Albus spun and launched off toward the other side of the pavilion as fast as he could get the broom to go. He felt the heat of the dragon's breath right behind him, there was smoke blowing around, and he expected to be torched any second.

Then suddenly something deep within Albus stirred. What came to the surface was primeval, and dark. It was pure unfettered rage, and it felt like a long lost friend.

He slowed down until the dragon was right on his heels, and suddenly he yanked the broom stick into a roll to the side, simultaneously braking, the dragon shot by, and he rolled back and kicked the broom after it. Round and round they went, with the dragon trailing smoke, and Albus hard on its tail. Suddenly the dragon dived for the ground and into its crate. Albus landed on the ground running a few steps.

He didn't remember extending his wand, but it was there, in his hand, shaking with his fury, pointed at his Uncle Charlie's chin.

The rugged man was laughing so hard he was wiping tears, he didn't seem to realize that he was the one in peril now.

Albus aimed at a partially melted rock.

Reducto!

The disintegrated rock showered his uncle with pebbles as he covered his eyes. Seeing that he had the man's full attention, "Take this sticking charm off of me now!" Albus shouted.

Charlie nodded and removed it with a spoken word. Albus dismounted, dropped the broom and started to storm off. Before he got more than a couple of steps, he heard:

Petrificus Totalus!

All at once, he couldn't move a muscle.

His uncle moved into his line of sight. "I want to talk to you, without being hexed." He plucked the wand out of Albus hand.

The first thing Albus did, when he could move again, was take a swing. But his uncle, anticipating such a move, ducked it and soon had him in some kind of arm lock. He was behind him with his mouth at his nephew's ear. "I am going to release you, but know, if you take another swing at me, I won't hesitate to stun you. Am I understood?"

Albus managed to nod, and his uncle let go of him.

Albus turned slowly, glaring. "I hate you," he spat, with as much venom as he could muster.

"I know. But, can I point out, you flew."

Albus twitched. I flew?

Charlie seemed to read his thoughts. "Yes, you flew, and quite well! I think you scared poor Ringo though." He walked over to the crate and waved Albus over.

Albus shook his head. "I don't feel like being torched, thank you very much."

Charlie gave him an impatient look. "Come over here. You're safe. Trust me."

"You're not on my list of trustworthy people at the moment."

Even as he said it, Albus walked forward. Through the slats, he saw beautiful iridescent red scales sparkled in the morning light-and then the dragon vanished.

Charlie grinned proudly. "It was an illusion based on a hatchling I saw blowing smoke rings, hence the name Ringo."

The truth sank into Albus. "I was never in danger, was I?"

"You thought you were," his uncle said with a grin, "and like your father, you won my respect today." He pulled Albus into a dragon-sized hug.

The rest of the day was spent with Albus learning how better to control the broom, how to throw a Quaffle using the broom's momentum. Uncle Charlie even mounted his own broom and raced Albus around the Pavilion with the illusionary Ringo joining in the fun. As the sun faded in the west behind the Forbidden Forest, they went back to the tent.

Albus had something bothering him; he wasn't sure how to broach the subject. As they ate a dinner of bangers and mash, he finally tried.

"Uncle Charlie?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry I threatened you."

A low rumbling chuckle filled the tent. "You had every right to be chapped. No need to apologise. Besides, you've got some Weasley in you. I'm lucky you went for the rock!"

They both laughed, Albus immediately felt better.