Chapter 98: 22nd September 1991, Sunday: Part 4

Five minutes later and George was sitting beside Neville in the Gryffindor stand, Harry's team were whizzing back and forth just ahead of them as they practised. George had taken off his robe to hide his Slytherin badge so Oliver, the Gryffindor captain, didn't think he was a mole trying to steal Gryffindor's stratagems. Oliver was known for his competitive nature and George wouldn't be surprised if Oliver insisted on him leaving the pitch whilst they practised. George didn't mind shedding a few layers since he felt too warm after his transformation and the chilly late September breeze was quite effective at cooling him down.

He looked over to his left, past Neville, and saw Ron, Seamus and Dean who were all eagerly watching and discussing quidditch. All of the boys seemed to be very excited about the upcoming Quidditch House Cup which was starting in November. They couldn't wait to see their friend, the youngest Seeker in a century, compete and hopefully win the Quidditch House Cup for Gryffindor. George felt he couldn't contribute to the conversation since he should be technically supporting the opposing team. Everything he might say to compliment Harry or the rest of the Gryffindor team would most likely be interpreted as sarcasm by Ron.

It should be noted that Slytherin was statistically most likely to win the cup because of their recent consecutive victories in prior years. Therefore, George and the rest of the snakes were the ones to beat in Ron's eyes. Instead of being friendly and subsequently digging himself into a hole, George sat quietly at the end of the bench and started to read the book he had taken from the Library. He quickly searched through the pages and was disappointed to find only a few short paragraphs dedicated to the Ukrainian Ironbelly. The other breeds of dragons had many pages dedicated to intricately describing the process of breeding and nurturing their young, the indescrepencies were very obvious at a glance.

Once George started reading, he realised the reason for his species' lack of detail was simply because they weren't ever recorded to be bred in captivity. According to the book, Ukrainian Ironbellys were incredibly temperamental about choosing their breeding partners and had an intricate mating ritual that couldn't be simulated in an enclosure. Dragonologists had concluded that the Ironbellys were naturally antisocial creatures because they spent the majority of their life alone in their caves. They speculated that only once in the Ironbelly's lifetime would they feel the compulsion to reproduce, but these dragons were estimated to live for around one thousand years, so nobody could be sure if that was true.

During the rare instances that these dragons did attempt to attract a mate, the females would scorch the outside of their caves and roll around in the ashes to impregnate the ashes with their scent. Males would fly miles across vast mountain landscapes to follow the scent and, upon arriving at a female's cave, would be judged by the female if they were worthy of fathering the clutch. Females have been observed turning away over a dozen males and it was unknown what characteristics they found desirable, some predicted that the wingspan or reflectivity of their scales might be the deciding factors but these are merely speculations observed from other breeds of dragons.

Failed encounters between male and female Ironbellys would be evident by the injuries seen on the retreating males, this proved that the females were generally stronger and more aggressive. Dragonologists would only know if an encounter had been successful after waiting two years, at that time they would witness adolescent Ironbellys leaving the mother's cave. During the egg-laying process, the mother's maternal instincts would be highly elevated and she would have zero tolerance for any creature that would enter their cave. Therefore, it was highly recommended that no Dragonologist would go near the mother's cave until the clutch had left.

George had a look of disgust on his face as he finished reading the section on the Ukrainian Ironbelly's breeding ritual, he didn't like the idea of possibly inheriting these impulses as he got older. It was bad enough that he slept twelve hours a day and had a hair-trigger anger problem because of his species. He knew that it was inevitable that all animals, including humans, would look for a partner to reproduce since it was natural, but, if the day ever came when he felt the urge to go sniffing around the entrance of a cave then George might be tempted to neuter himself. Just because he was turning into an animal didn't mean he had to act like one, his pride as a rational-thinking being wouldn't allow it.

The book wasn't completely useless to George since there was some general information related to maintaining the health and wellness of a captive dragon. There were two common ailments in dragons, Scale Rot and Squabbs Syndrome. Scale Rot sounded quite nasty as it was an airborne fungal infection that would grow underneath the scales of a dragon. The symptoms started with the scales becoming dull or flaky and would worsen until the scales started to rot and fall off. In the worst cases, limbs could also get infected which had been known to cause the entire tail of a dragon to detach. At this point, the Dragon would be in utter agony and it would be in the Keeper's best interests to put it out of its misery.

George had always been checking his body for infections after he transformed, but from this point onwards he would certainly ensure that all his scales looked in good health as well, he didn't need the dragon equivalent of leprosy interfering with his plans. He did wonder how the symptoms would show if he turned back into a human, maybe his nails would start turning green. The book also offered a treatment for Scale Rot; if the infection was noticed early, a concoction of saltwater, tar and white spirit should be rubbed into the infected area daily for at least a month or longer if the symptoms persisted. Luckily, all of those ingredients were easy to source at Hogwarts so even if he did get infected, George had a solution.

Squabbs Syndrome is a type of lung infection that could only affect dragons, it shared many traits with a common cold. A dragon infected with Squabbs is not able to breathe fire, instead, it would dribble a white viscous liquid and frequently sneeze. Unlike Scale Rot, this illness is not lethal and most dragons would recover without the need for medical attention. This infection could only travel from dragon to dragon so it was recommended that the Keeper isolated the infected dragon from the rest of their kind until they had stopped sneezing.

If the dragon had symptoms that persisted for more than a month or speckles of blood started to appear in their drool, the Keeper should mix chilli and pepper into their meals and ensure they drink a crate of rum four times a day until they started spitting flames once again. George didn't find this illness disconcerting since he had no intention of socialising with his draconic brethren, most of his kind lived two thousand miles away. Another point worthy of note from the book was the emphasis on providing your dragon with copious amounts of alcohol for the sake of its 'well-being'.

The book claimed the alcohol would ensure a healthy dragon with good social skills, but George doubted that since whisky or rum wasn't naturally occurring in the wild. He was pretty sure that dragons were meant to drink water like the rest of the animal kingdom. It seemed that the world's go-to method of ensuring a dragon's cooperation in captivity was to turn them all into tipsy alcoholics. George had a mental image of Charley Weasley walking around a field of dragons that were slightly swaying back and forth, one would be throwing up in the corner and another would be patting it on the back.

It all sounded like nonsense, but George wasn't going to start making assumptions about treatments he knew little about. He was rather desperate to find a way to ease his emotions outside of using potions and taking time off, alcohol would be a much more convenient method if it worked. George decided to take some time to test their recommendations and see if there was any truth to be found. It certainly wasn't going to be easy to secure a large quantity of alcohol at Hogwarts since he was under the legal drinking age, but George knew of a certain Irish boy who might be able to help him in that regard. Although a stereotype, the Irish magical community were known for their exceptional talent in conjuring liquid of the fermented variety.

George was momentarily distracted as he heard a loud whooshing sound followed quickly by a large gust of wind blowing right past his face. The pages of the book were turned back to the index by the gust of air and his neatly combed hair was blown over his eyes. George brushed his hair aside and looked up to see Harry flying rapidly away while chasing the golden snitch. He then heard cheering coming from beside him as Ron, Dean and Seamus stood up and wave their hands around like idiots.

George derogatorily thought, "children", before closing his book and placing it inside his enchanted sack.

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He could worry about his dragon side another time since the quidditch pitch wasn't the ideal location for a spot of light reading, he could finish the book later when he had to visit Myrtle. George noticed that Neville appeared to be also having a great time as there was a big smile plastered on his face, but, the boy hadn't stood up to cheer like the rest.

George nudged his shoulder and asked, "why don't you join in with them?"

Neville looked up at his hysterical friends and his face turned red in embarrassment, he appeared to be in a dilemma of whether to follow the crowd and attract unwanted attention or keep quiet and remain unnoticed. George knew Neville grew up in an environment that stifled his self-confidence, his grandmother made him feel inferior by making unrealistic comparisons between himself and his parents. This was why Neville was so reserved around others and didn't like to express his opinions if they deviated from the people around him.

Neville must have interpreted George's question as an implication that he wasn't following the status quo and that made him feel uncomfortable. George knew what this felt like because he had once thought this way before he had reached enlightenment and formed the plan with his patron. It was a horrible self-destructive path that few could recover from, but Neville was one of those exceptions. The boy just needed a little push in the right direction.

Neville's smile faded as he looked down at his feet and mumbled, "I don't know."

George nudged his shoulder again and reassuringly said, "don't ever feel embarrassed for not acting the same way as everyone else, you are your own person. If you just want to sit down and watch Harry fly then that's fine."

Neville lifted his limp head and his smile returned after hearing George's words, he seemed to have taken them to heart. George had noticed their friendly relationship evolving into one of a student and teacher ever since he had started helping Neville with his homework, hence why Neville was so willing to accept George's advice. Both of them looked back towards the Quidditch practice and saw Harry tantalisingly close to catching the snitch. Fred and George both stopped on their brooms and cheered Harry on as he finally caught the snitch for the first time. Harry held the snitch into the air and the morning sun glistened off the golden ball like a beacon to the rest of the team.

Everyone's attention was now on Harry as the entire team flew toward him to congratulate him on catching the snitch in record time, they smiled and cheered as if they had already won the Quidditch House Cup. Even Oliver looked incredibly happy, it was most likely because his team struck gold by recruiting Harry early. The mood was generally optimistic for Gryffindor's chances in the upcoming Quidditch House Cup but George was finding himself becoming irritated as he watched them congratulate Harry. The sight of the team taking pleasure out of what he saw as clear exploitation and manipulation lit a fire inside of him.

This was a mild example of why the plan was necessary, for some reason only he could see what was intrinsically wrong with the wizarding world. Due to their ignorance, George had to take up the mantle of responsibility and make the hard choices that nobody else could, no matter the cost. Only after his plan was completed and all was right, could he tell the world of his sins and be judged in accordance with the masses. Even if they damned him for what horrors he had committed, George would leave this plane of existence happy that what he had done was a necessary sacrifice for the betterment of all. He could rest in an eternal slumber knowing that he had finally granted her final wish.

And then George forgot.

Neville looked over at George whilst clapping and saw that his normally smiling face was starting to grimace, blood was trickling out of the corner of his mouth and dripping down his chin.

Neville stopped clapping and asked George with clear concern in his voice, "is something wrong? George!?"

George's face immediately relaxed in response to hearing Neville's voice. His lips formed back into a genuine smile.

He wiped the blood with his sleeve as he looked toward Neville and said, "everything's fine. I just had a bad memory, that's all. Don't worry about it."

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