Charlie just couldn't get the Welch Green to sleep. She was turning circles in her cage completely restless, and Charlie was at his wit's end. Everyone else had retired to their tents long ago, and Overseer Charlie Weasley, with a blanket over his shoulders and a chocolate bar gifted from his brother Ron sitting open but not eaten in his hands, sat on a large flat rock and contemplated what next to try.

Hagrid had long left with his date, the Beauxbatons headmistress, and there had been other footsteps around the clearing around that time. The other headmaster no doubt, that character Karkaroff.

Charlie sighed and shook his head. In his days of Quiddich in school, a fair game meant something. Stick a thousand galleon prize on it and suddenly fair play is out the window.

Charlie took a bite of his chocolate and looked on the dragon again. He stood and walked up to the cage. Staying a good few feet away he stopped and shoved a hand in his pocket to fish out is wand. "I don't know girl," he said quietly. "I don't know what else to do."

He was just about to raise his wand when a voice behind him shouted, "Stop!" Charlie turned around and saw a girl running toward him, carrying a lantern aloft in one hand and a broom in the other and dressed in a bright green coat. She put the lantern down on the large flat rock and approached Charlie, who still had his bite of chocolate in his mouth. She put a hand on his wand wrist and lowered his aim back to the ground. "What are you doing to that dragon," she asked sternly. Clearly she was Irish, which was apparent from her accent, beyond the bright red head of hair she had tied up into a stumpy ponytail.

"I'm doing my job," Charlie answered. "Move please."

He made to raise his wand again, but the girl had a good grip on him. "No," she insisted.

"She needs to sleep. Move."

"You don't have to charm her to sleep, you idiot!"

"I'm in charge here, now move! Ow!"

The short little witch had clocked him on the head with the handle of her broom, and set it down to race over to the massive nest where the eggs were being kept. When Charlie recovered he followed her, yelling, "You can't go over there!" She didn't listen, and picked up a greenish speckled egg in her hands. She stood and brushed past Charlie just as he was reaching the nest. "Take that back! You can't just take and egg and-" He was stomping after her, trying to catch up. He did, however, stop dead in his tracks when the dragon in her cage stopped pacing and lay down as the girl approached. She placed the egg inside the bars and the dragon used her long tail to nudge it into her stomach. She then lowered her head and dropped off to sleep.

Charlie walked up to the cage and stooped to pick up the broom the girl had dropped. They both looked on the dragon and her egg and Charlie quietly exclaimed, "Wow."

They turned around and walked back to the rock. When they reached it, Charlie sat down, setting the broom down gently. "We've been keeping the eggs separate; I was worried they would accidentally crush them."

The girl sat beside him and removed her coat. "Well, all the other dragons have normal sized eggs, so they don't have to worry about a temporary lack of heat. Hers are mostly normal, but there's one egg that is smaller. You have a future runt on your hands. She was worried the egg needed more heat."

Charlie nodded in understanding, but then realized he had no idea who he was talking to. "Sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"I didn't give one." She extended her hand toward him. "Tyran Flick. I'm in charge here."

Charlie took her hand and shook it. "Charlie Weasley, and I thought I was."

"Oh, so you're Charlie. Well, we're both in charge. There's a rule in the Triwizard rule book that says that if the provider of any magical creatures or beasts used in the tournament has a possible conflict of interest a non-biased third party is called in to supervise. Since the owner of the reserve you're from is in fact a graduate of Durmstrang, he has a conflict. Dumbledore told Minerva, Minerva called my father, and my father sent me."

Charlie was curious. "Your father?" he asked.

"Shamus O'Hara."

"Oh, you're his daughter?" Charlie knew Shamus O'Hara was the owner of the Arach Reserve in the Irish countryside, the reserve his great grandmother started about a century ago. Charlie was impressed that O'Hara would have sent his own daughter to oversee such an important project. According to Feral Magik magazine, she only finished homeschooling the previous academic year and turned eighteen in October. The magazine had named her among their 25 to watch this past summer's July issue.

"Yes," she answered, smiling at him. Then her face fell. She reached up to Charlie's temple, and he flinched, feeling the sting from her touch. "Sorry about that," she said. Taking her wand out and transfiguring a pebble nearby into a rag and pouring a little water from the tip of her wand onto it, she continued, "I suppose hitting you with a broomstick was a little unnecessary." She dabbed the wet cloth to Charlie's head.

As the pain subsided and Charlie began to feel better, he noticed how pretty this young dragon keeper was. She had strawberry blonde hair and a slight frame, and perfect skin like alabaster stone. "I hear the Arach Reserve is one of the most advanced research facilities in the world. All natural remedies and control, open paddock and free range."

"That's right."

"Isn't that dangerous?"

"Not with the right training."

"I'd like to hear the differences sometime."

Tyran drew away her cloth and grinned. "I'd like that."

Charlie smiled back and said, "You know…the Hogwarts kitchen is always open to those who know the portrait password. Are you in the mood for anything?"

Tyran daintily passed an index finger under one of her hazel eyes as the other hand stifled a small yawn. "I could go for a strong coffee."

"My thoughts exactly."