Ah, the deep dark woods of Romania. Many legends have been written here. The Muggles here would never believe their ancestors' legends are true...

Concealed from Muggles' view, dragons are farmed, in an allegedly forested valley. Most of the trees, in reality, have been reduced to ash.

With the ash, dragon eggs are gestated. Every now and then, the mother dragons breathe smoke on the ash mounds they lie under, just to add to the gestation's power...

Charlie Weasley, a redheaded British wizard, enchants himself with an intangibility charm, as he marches across the war zone, towards some of the nests. These monsters are known, and VERY passionate, wizard-killers.

As he crosses the field, many male dragons surround him. There are Hungarian Horntails, Romanian Longhorns, and Ukrainian Ironbellies: the "homeboy triumvirate" of the reservation.

Weasley keeps walking about his path, unafraid. He shouldn't be.

Simultaneously, the male dragons all give him a volley...of fire, from their airways. The fire surrounds Weasley, and apparently scorches him.

Alas, like the angel who saved Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, Weasley walks right through the fire, right through one of the dragons, and keeps walking. Angered, one of the Horntails tries to whip Weasley with his horned tail. THAT would be a deadly strike...if it succeeded. Even so, Weasley's charm is failproof...and the dragons are still too dim to have thought of a way to counter it.

Thank Merlin, after all. Without dragon blood, and a few properties from their eggs, the world's wizardry would be up the Thames without a wand...as they often say back at the Burrow, where Weasley was born and raised.

Other dragons try to turn Weasley into a sucking wizard, as well. A Swedish Short-Snout lands, and tries. No avail. A Norwegian Ridgeback lands, and tries. Again, no avail.

THIS Ridgeback is Norberta, a dragon hatchling that Rubeus Hagrid once bought from a mysterious wizard on the black market...who turned out to be a dark wizard-possessed Slatero Quirrell. It's still funny to think that Hagrid worked at Hogwarts School with Quirrell for a whole year, and never once put Quirrell's face with the wizard who sold him the dragon egg...

But even if Hagrid did, it wouldn't of been TOO useful at the time. Quirrell wasn't the villain of that story; Tome Riddle III was...a legendary dark wizard who wizardry has come to know by a very scary name, so scary that some of the more conservative wizards are still too afraid to say his name.

You'd think that Norberta would start recognizing Weasley as a friend by now... Even so, a dragon's appetite has no memory...or discriminating sentiments for what it considers food.

At last, Weasley gets to a mound. With a spell, he banishes the ashes, and uncovers the eggs. Shit; this Hebridean Black sure laid a lot of them. If not for this dragon reservation, the Hebrides, and not to mention Scotland nearby, would BOTH be up the Thames without a wand. The Ministry keeps saying...from what Charlie's brother Percy keeps telling him...that the five biggest threats to Hogwarts School's welfare are Argus Filch, the Carrow siblings, mountain trolls, and Hebridean Blacks.

In the old days, the Chamber of Secrets was also on that list. Except first of all, both the monster within and the heir to open it are both dead, and second of all, the monster only attacked Muggle-borns, rather than wizarding children, or wizards, in general.

Charlie's still amused, at how the Heir managed to program the basilisk to only attack Muggle-borns...or be able to TELL that their quarries were Muggle-born... Let's face it; the basilisk seems like the kind of creature that would kill ALL wizards, Muggle-born or otherwise...

Enough of that. It's time for Charlie to collect some eggs. And he's brought along the perfect bag for it.

Behind him, Momma Black creeps up. She opens her mouth, and keeps trying to scorch Charlie, and protect her babies. The fire doesn't burn Charlie. Even so, Charlie had better hurry up and collect these eggs, or that Black behind him will hyperventilate.

It's sad to think, Charlie thinks, that DRAGONS have Blacks, too. And he thought it was bad enough that British wizardry had a Black family...

The New Zealand All-Blacks aren't that bad...at rugby. Alas, rugby is a Muggle sport, and Charlie wouldn't know of it...especially if dragons weren't involved. A lot of All-Blacks probably THINK they're dragons... Alas, they're really kiwis...and as big as a kiwi's egg is, Charlie wouldn't care about it if it hatched and proved itself a kiwi...a bird smaller than a chicken that an Antipodean Opaleye could have any day, considering how negligent New Zealanders often are of their country's national bird.

Too late; the Black hyperventilates. She falls over, and faints.

By now, the egg mound is half-gone. (Or...is it half-there? Mothers could sure use a psychiatrist, in sitches like this.) Charlie turns around, climbs the Black, pulls out his wand, and heals the mother dragon, best he can, while still wearing his intangibility charm.

From here, he takes the eggs back to the barn, where the wizards that attend this reservation deal with them. Every dragon on the reservation tries to flame-broil Charlie, en route...but none prevail.

As savage as these dragons are, they're about to have some competition. And it would be more intense...if these dragons were ever released from the reservation. (Merlin-forbid if THAT ever happens...)