[Have you ever witnessed a person's expression embody the form of: dgsjklgldg? Well, you have now.]
Not sure there's anyone ordained for it, anyway. [A little pause.] That was a joke - I'm sorry if it was in poor taste, I just - you caught me completely by surprise.
[She IS NOT GOING TO ASK ANDUIN TO OFFICIATE THEIR WEDDING BECAUSE THEY'RE NOT GETTING MARRIED, FIRST OF ALL. And also it might break his heart?
She's going to just skip completely past that part of the conversation for a moment.]
Yes, but the wands are - well, I mean, I enchanted my bag but I've always thought that permanently enchanting objects takes a lot more. Not that I don't think you can't - oh, bollocks. [She just slaps a hand over her mouth, holds the other up in the universal sign of hold up for a sec.
Gets a hold of herself. And thinks, of wands, of what they're meant to be. Eventually, she brings her hand away to rub the back of her neck and answers him.]
I think that they act as a channel. It is doubtful that a witch or wizard can only use one, because I can use Bellatrix's just fine, even if at the start it felt...wrong. So it must be somewhat sentient, or maybe it bonds with the caster it picks? I don't know. Either way, a magical core would be the requirement, honestly. Where I come from, there's a famous wandmaker, he uses cores from creatures that would be difficult to find here.
[She purses her lips, uses her big memory to recite:] Unicorn hair, phoenix feather, dragon heartstring.
[ Wrathion blinks once as she says this (is her bag not... permanently enchanted? Temporary enchantment seems such a waste of time to him. He's never performed a temporary enchantment on an item, only on people.)
As she continues to talk, he reaches down to pick up the wand again. Channelling is what he expected, but bonding is a curious thing. And sentience? He's handled sentient objects before -- Xal'atath -- but often they are sentient because they contain a presence.
He's still studying the wand when she begins reciting, and freezes -- subtly tense before he sets the wand down with slightly more exaggerated care.
Ah. Perhaps that was what he sensed. He reaches out, warily, with his mind to the wand to see if it would answer him. ]
Is the creature used to imbue it with sentience?
[ Hermione are you murdering magical creatures and trapping them in wands? Because that would not be okay. ]
[She has to actually consider that.] No, I don't think so. Olivander's reputable. I never got to ask, but I'm fairly sure that those items are procured in the most humane way.
[And just to carry on in this tangent, she rambles:] Phoenixes are very rare, for example, but the benefit of them is that before the go through the end of a cycle, to burn and be reborn for their own ashes, they shed feathers. So it would be enough to just pick those from the ground, really. And unicorns, they don't really let just about anyone near them so I imagine that somewhere out there, maybe there's a reservation where they brush their manes and sell whatever falls painlessly?
[For the dragon, though, she pauses. Her own wand was made of dragon heartstring, a very good conductor of charms, and especially. Bellatrix's, too, which might be why she can use it - even if the wood is wrong. Shape is also wrong.]
I don't know how they source the last ingredient, but I want to believe that it's only when a dragon reaches old age and expires on the reservation. Plus, dragon hearts are likely the size of a human being, so I'm sure one is enough to create enough wands for a century?
[She's sitting, though. And have you tried the tea?]
Mm - unfortunately, there are still a lot of horrible people out there who are dragon hunters, or who like to smuggle eggs for profit. There are reservations to protect dragons - where they sort of fly free, and stay hidden from the eyes of Mu - non magical people.
[A pause.] Magic's not publically known. You either can use it, and you know it's there, or you don't have the aptitude for it so you live without knowing a whole community hides behind barriers and spells.
[Well, that's. Not inaccurate. She won't mention the one they had locked up in Gringotts to guard their treasures. She won't mention the Triwizard Tournament, either.
She definitely won't mention Norbert.
Because she can tell, something there upset him. It's more important than the sodding wand.]
[It's a shock to the system, the way he says it so bluntly. She startles, and sets her cup down with a loud clink. Recovers her wand, because there's no reason for him to build her anything, since he expected more of her apparently.]
I see. Huh. [A clench of her jaw.] You expected me to what?
This is a feedback loop he has seen before, although his manner is still cool. He is disappointed, but it simply means he may need to be careful about what he trusts her with.
Since apparently she thinks he should be captured and kept on a reservation, for his own safety.
It is a harsh lesson, but an important one. He had almost grown... complacent, willing to think he might be accepted. In the end, he will likely have only himself. Sometimes you must stand alone against the darkness so that others may bask in the light. ]
To understand a gilded cage is still a cage.
[ He collects his hands neatly into his lap, regards her with a slight frown. ]
[As he explains it, she takes that time to return her wand to the holster, in case she will need to make an early exit. Whatever the reason of his upset with her, she can't discount that this night might be cut short due to it.
His question does make her pause, with sudden understanding. He's asking about the dragons - something in her heart twitches in compassion, for someone who is willing to jump and defend the rights of magical creatures.
Don't go around assuming things about him just because you want a friend.
She does have an answer:]
They don't speak, so I don't know what to tell you about that. I understand - you think they're locked up. I won't deny it, there are people horrible enough out there that do keep dragons captive, and I hope to one day end their tyranny, but...they're not held in cages.
[She takes a deep breath, and looks away.] I don't know what kind of person you think I am, Wrathion, but I don't take any pleasure out of the idea of living things suffering. I am still, however, just one girl. In the eyes of wizards in my world, up until recently I wasn't even a girl worthy of attention, because my parents are both non-magical. I have ambition, I want to help...many.
But I can't just do it on my own like [She snaps her fingers.] that.
Because you do not understand them, they do not speak?
[ He's just saying. All living things communicate.
He reaches out to pick up his tea, fingers closing around it. ]
I have seen dragons caged before. I have seen them bred like animals, butchered, their children stolen, their wills broken, used as experiments to breed creatures built to fight, used as steeds to ride into war. If I placed you in a house, and told you that you could not leave for your entire lifetime, but that you'd be safe -- would you be happy? There may be no bars, but you are still being kept.
Alright, I don't speak dragon, is that better? [Not goign to apologise for snapping, because she's angry that he's right.
And she presses her lips together to let him finish making his point quietly, all the while silently seething that she is apparently being held accountable for the behaviour of wizarding Britain.
But still Hermione Granger enough that the idea of dragons being caged, the way he describes it, is horrible and fills her with more righteous wrath.]
I've seen dragons caged before, too. [Spoken with a very tense, high and mighty tone.] And on both occasions I helped them escape, so - [Deep breath, and:] Why are you scolding me?
We can do snapping at each other. He drops his voice down into a deep, snarling tone that has a strange resonant quality. Something bestial, dark, inhuman. ]
Because I will not be caged again, Hermione Granger.
[Look. She just thought that maybe he had one of those naturally deep voices, and that when he was frustrated he growled (because he was a werewolf), but this is.
To say unexpected is to put it mildly. Very mildly.
For a few seconds, she doesn't really breathe, and just stares at him, surprised. Frozen in place, for a moment.
Then, the feedback lands. The conversation, the outburst, the clues that were so obviously there. Dots get connected, and she lets out an inhuman little sound, kind of like an eep. It's instinct, really, when you're sharing tea and arguing with a sodding dragon.]
[Again, silence, and she's still stuck for a moment before shaking herself out of it.]
Hold on a second, you reveal to be you're a dragon - and nevermind the fact that you look nothing like the dragons I've seen so there's that - and then just casually switch to talking about wand cores again?!
This is my visage. It allows me to interact with mortals, and not destroy the furniture inside their houses.
[ Also, wear fashionable. He turns sideways and loosens his robe, shrugging it off one shoulder. The curse scratches along his back have started to seep blood in places, and the blood is... not quite red. It has a faint, molten glow.
Like magma. ]
It is, however, causing me problems when it cannot be healed. If these get worse I'll be destroying clothing.
[So - so - where he's from, which he has mentioned a few times, dragons are shape shifters? It explains the red eyes, it also explains the extremely high body temperature and the growling, but it doesn't explain why he's taking his robe off.
She relaxes a little bit when he doesn't, actually, take it all the way off, but then she sees the scratches and frowns, suddenly both worried and curious enough to want to touch it and see if it burns.]
I don't know if any of my potions would work on you, then - but it's worth trying. You'll need to wait a few days, the poultice that heals cuts requires more time to brew here. Must have to do with the replacement I'm using for Murtlap.
[A pause after that, and she glances up.] I would never want to see you caged, for the record.
[She is going to do the very British thing here, and resort to the comfort of tea in order to calm her own nerves down. Because, the truth is, this conversation has been a lot.
Her heartbeat is pouding - so she can only hope that keen senses don't count among the skills of a dragon in disguise.
(Does he have a hoard? No, I can't ask that, it'd be rude.)
The line of thought goes towards his blood again, and the possibility of him using it for a wand is just out of this world, so it flies right over her head.]
For the poultice? [Actually considers this.] Maybe it might - I don't think I've brewed anything like that.
[She knows of nine uses for dragon blood and she is not going to start thinking about them, because - because what was once a comfort (the ability to memorise homework) feels tainted now. Feels wrong, in light of these revelations, to even know that you can use dragonblood to get rid of verrucas.]
Ah - I did bring a healing potion with me. [She does reach into her bag now, summons it into her hand and holds it out, bottled inside a perfume bottle from the palazzo.] It is magical, but I'll grant you it might not work. Maybe just take a sip and see?
[ Properties for the wand, you see. Still, he sets aside his tea and reaches out for the potion bottle. His hand is very slightly unsteady, but he's maintaining a dignified air and pretending it isn't. It's hidden quickly once he grips the bottle and begins to inspect it. ]
Anduin found none of his most powerful healing spells could touch them, and normally there is little he cannot heal.
[ Anduin Wrynn, blessed by the light, should be able to bring people back from the brink of death. Strange that a few scratches would stop him. Wrathion uncaps the bottle and sniffs it curiously, trying to get a read on what she's put in it. Curiosity more than suspicion. ]
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Wrathion looks up in surprise, frowns, then sets down the wand and stares at her. ]
I would not require a ceremony.
[ She would not have to? Just to be... clear? ]
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Not sure there's anyone ordained for it, anyway. [A little pause.] That was a joke - I'm sorry if it was in poor taste, I just - you caught me completely by surprise.
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Anduin is a priest of the Light.
[ A pause.
Anyway -- ]
I mentioned before I craft and enchant powerful items. The concept is the same.
[ You told him he was very smart, Hermione! He still has no idea that was sarcasm. ]
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She's going to just skip completely past that part of the conversation for a moment.]
Yes, but the wands are - well, I mean, I enchanted my bag but I've always thought that permanently enchanting objects takes a lot more. Not that I don't think you can't - oh, bollocks. [She just slaps a hand over her mouth, holds the other up in the universal sign of hold up for a sec.
Gets a hold of herself. And thinks, of wands, of what they're meant to be. Eventually, she brings her hand away to rub the back of her neck and answers him.]
I think that they act as a channel. It is doubtful that a witch or wizard can only use one, because I can use Bellatrix's just fine, even if at the start it felt...wrong. So it must be somewhat sentient, or maybe it bonds with the caster it picks? I don't know. Either way, a magical core would be the requirement, honestly. Where I come from, there's a famous wandmaker, he uses cores from creatures that would be difficult to find here.
[She purses her lips, uses her big memory to recite:] Unicorn hair, phoenix feather, dragon heartstring.
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As she continues to talk, he reaches down to pick up the wand again. Channelling is what he expected, but bonding is a curious thing. And sentience? He's handled sentient objects before -- Xal'atath -- but often they are sentient because they contain a presence.
He's still studying the wand when she begins reciting, and freezes -- subtly tense before he sets the wand down with slightly more exaggerated care.
Ah. Perhaps that was what he sensed. He reaches out, warily, with his mind to the wand to see if it would answer him. ]
Is the creature used to imbue it with sentience?
[ Hermione are you murdering magical creatures and trapping them in wands? Because that would not be okay. ]
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[And just to carry on in this tangent, she rambles:] Phoenixes are very rare, for example, but the benefit of them is that before the go through the end of a cycle, to burn and be reborn for their own ashes, they shed feathers. So it would be enough to just pick those from the ground, really. And unicorns, they don't really let just about anyone near them so I imagine that somewhere out there, maybe there's a reservation where they brush their manes and sell whatever falls painlessly?
[For the dragon, though, she pauses. Her own wand was made of dragon heartstring, a very good conductor of charms, and especially. Bellatrix's, too, which might be why she can use it - even if the wood is wrong. Shape is also wrong.]
I don't know how they source the last ingredient, but I want to believe that it's only when a dragon reaches old age and expires on the reservation. Plus, dragon hearts are likely the size of a human being, so I'm sure one is enough to create enough wands for a century?
[Pure conjecture.]
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Back up, here. ]
A reservation?
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Mm - unfortunately, there are still a lot of horrible people out there who are dragon hunters, or who like to smuggle eggs for profit. There are reservations to protect dragons - where they sort of fly free, and stay hidden from the eyes of Mu - non magical people.
[A pause.] Magic's not publically known. You either can use it, and you know it's there, or you don't have the aptitude for it so you live without knowing a whole community hides behind barriers and spells.
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Who are turned into wands.
His face is going on a journey. It's landing somewhere around distaste.
He is, in fact, going to sip the tea to try and recover. ]
So you herd them into a field and harvest their corpses when they pass.
[ Another sip. He sets the cup down. ]
I can find something to use as a core, but if it will work the same way I cannot say. Do the wood and shape impact the use?
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She definitely won't mention Norbert.
Because she can tell, something there upset him. It's more important than the sodding wand.]
I've upset you.
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He considers that a long moment. Processing emotion takes time, sometimes, to untangle exactly the meaning of it all. ]
Yes.
[ This admission is actually unusual for him, but he thinks this qualifies. ]
I expected better of you.
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I see. Huh. [A clench of her jaw.] You expected me to what?
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This is a feedback loop he has seen before, although his manner is still cool. He is disappointed, but it simply means he may need to be careful about what he trusts her with.
Since apparently she thinks he should be captured and kept on a reservation, for his own safety.
It is a harsh lesson, but an important one. He had almost grown... complacent, willing to think he might be accepted. In the end, he will likely have only himself. Sometimes you must stand alone against the darkness so that others may bask in the light. ]
To understand a gilded cage is still a cage.
[ He collects his hands neatly into his lap, regards her with a slight frown. ]
Or will you tell me they agreed to this?
[ He cannot imagine tolerating it himself. ]
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His question does make her pause, with sudden understanding. He's asking about the dragons - something in her heart twitches in compassion, for someone who is willing to jump and defend the rights of magical creatures.
Don't go around assuming things about him just because you want a friend.
She does have an answer:]
They don't speak, so I don't know what to tell you about that. I understand - you think they're locked up. I won't deny it, there are people horrible enough out there that do keep dragons captive, and I hope to one day end their tyranny, but...they're not held in cages.
[She takes a deep breath, and looks away.] I don't know what kind of person you think I am, Wrathion, but I don't take any pleasure out of the idea of living things suffering. I am still, however, just one girl. In the eyes of wizards in my world, up until recently I wasn't even a girl worthy of attention, because my parents are both non-magical. I have ambition, I want to help...many.
But I can't just do it on my own like [She snaps her fingers.] that.
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[ He's just saying. All living things communicate.
He reaches out to pick up his tea, fingers closing around it. ]
I have seen dragons caged before. I have seen them bred like animals, butchered, their children stolen, their wills broken, used as experiments to breed creatures built to fight, used as steeds to ride into war. If I placed you in a house, and told you that you could not leave for your entire lifetime, but that you'd be safe -- would you be happy? There may be no bars, but you are still being kept.
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And she presses her lips together to let him finish making his point quietly, all the while silently seething that she is apparently being held accountable for the behaviour of wizarding Britain.
But still Hermione Granger enough that the idea of dragons being caged, the way he describes it, is horrible and fills her with more righteous wrath.]
I've seen dragons caged before, too. [Spoken with a very tense, high and mighty tone.] And on both occasions I helped them escape, so - [Deep breath, and:] Why are you scolding me?
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We can do snapping at each other. He drops his voice down into a deep, snarling tone that has a strange resonant quality. Something bestial, dark, inhuman. ]
Because I will not be caged again, Hermione Granger.
[ Please accept this feedback. ]
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To say unexpected is to put it mildly. Very mildly.
For a few seconds, she doesn't really breathe, and just stares at him, surprised. Frozen in place, for a moment.
Then, the feedback lands. The conversation, the outburst, the clues that were so obviously there. Dots get connected, and she lets out an inhuman little sound, kind of like an eep. It's instinct, really, when you're sharing tea and arguing with a sodding dragon.]
What. What? You - what?
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I can provide you options for your wand. You'll need to let me know how the shape and the wood interact with it.
[ Anyway.
He has limited tree options in his surroundings, but he can try things. Obviously he can put something draconic in it. ]
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Hold on a second, you reveal to be you're a dragon - and nevermind the fact that you look nothing like the dragons I've seen so there's that - and then just casually switch to talking about wand cores again?!
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[ Also, wear fashionable. He turns sideways and loosens his robe, shrugging it off one shoulder. The curse scratches along his back have started to seep blood in places, and the blood is... not quite red. It has a faint, molten glow.
Like magma. ]
It is, however, causing me problems when it cannot be healed. If these get worse I'll be destroying clothing.
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She relaxes a little bit when he doesn't, actually, take it all the way off, but then she sees the scratches and frowns, suddenly both worried and curious enough to want to touch it and see if it burns.]
I don't know if any of my potions would work on you, then - but it's worth trying. You'll need to wait a few days, the poultice that heals cuts requires more time to brew here. Must have to do with the replacement I'm using for Murtlap.
[A pause after that, and she glances up.] I would never want to see you caged, for the record.
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I'm glad to hear it.
[ He's just going to sip this tea, and try to slow the racing of his heart.
He'd maybe lost his cool. This had been a very alarming series of revelations. The tea is helping him not panic over having just outed himself. ]
My blood has powerful magic properties. My natural affinity is earth and fire, if that will make a difference.
[ You know, if he bleeds into a wand for you. Like friends do.
Is it better or worse if your friends blood is powering your wand? ]
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Her heartbeat is pouding - so she can only hope that keen senses don't count among the skills of a dragon in disguise.
(Does he have a hoard? No, I can't ask that, it'd be rude.)
The line of thought goes towards his blood again, and the possibility of him using it for a wand is just out of this world, so it flies right over her head.]
For the poultice? [Actually considers this.] Maybe it might - I don't think I've brewed anything like that.
[She knows of nine uses for dragon blood and she is not going to start thinking about them, because - because what was once a comfort (the ability to memorise homework) feels tainted now. Feels wrong, in light of these revelations, to even know that you can use dragonblood to get rid of verrucas.]
Ah - I did bring a healing potion with me. [She does reach into her bag now, summons it into her hand and holds it out, bottled inside a perfume bottle from the palazzo.] It is magical, but I'll grant you it might not work. Maybe just take a sip and see?
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[ Properties for the wand, you see. Still, he sets aside his tea and reaches out for the potion bottle. His hand is very slightly unsteady, but he's maintaining a dignified air and pretending it isn't. It's hidden quickly once he grips the bottle and begins to inspect it. ]
Anduin found none of his most powerful healing spells could touch them, and normally there is little he cannot heal.
[ Anduin Wrynn, blessed by the light, should be able to bring people back from the brink of death. Strange that a few scratches would stop him. Wrathion uncaps the bottle and sniffs it curiously, trying to get a read on what she's put in it. Curiosity more than suspicion. ]
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