They flew for a while between the clouds, brushing past a few dragon-keeper patrols hunting poachers, skirting a roaring column of smoke with flames licking within.
"Another fight," Charlie said, utterly matter-of-fact, as Hagrid craned his neck for a lingering look.
They dipped slightly, just avoiding a lashing tongue of fire.
"Whoa, close one!" Charlie said easily, leading them over the hills.
A river snaked through bare trees, catching the light faintly. Anthony spotted a few figures wearing those strange shoes, bounding lightly over the water and deeper into the woods. Past a certain ridge, patches of unmelted snow appeared among the trees, scattered on dark, naked earth. Further ahead, the ground was almost completely blanketed in pure white.
"Romanian Reserve up ahead," Charlie announced. "Almost there."
"Good," Anthony said.
Romanian Longhorns weren't like Hungarian Horntails. They didn't roar. If Charlie hadn't gestured for him to listen to the distant, occasional horn-like sound, Anthony might never have realized they'd reached the world's largest Longhorn habitat. Hagrid kept opening his pocket to check the gifts he'd brought for Norbert.
Unlike the dormitory in the Hungarian Reserve, the Romanian Longhorn Reserve's lodgings were small red-roofed houses scattered across a clearing, with normal-sized doors and windows. But between the houses of all sizes stood tall black poles topped with gold paint, casting long shadows on the snow. They glided smoothly past one such pole, circling the living area.
"What are those?" Anthony asked, pointing at the poles.
"Hmm? Oh, those," Charlie said, following his gaze. "Same principle as the dragon-egg-shaped dorms. They're to prevent attacks. Longhorns don't usually fight each other, and they're all terribly nearsighted. They rely on the gold horns and scent to tell another Longhorn apart." He added thoughtfully, "I've heard the Muggles nearby also put shiny things high up on their houses…"
"Have they been attacked by Longhorns?" Anthony asked, concerned.
"Rarely. Almost never," Charlie said. "At least, not in the last five or six years from our reserve. Longhorns aren't keen on moving their nests, and they only fly and practice in specific flight paths… Poachers love that about them…" He sighed. "Anyway, Muggles put up shiny poles too. Maybe a habit left over from the past."
They circled down to a long, low building. Led by Charlie, all three brooms—including Hagrid's heavy-duty model—made a neat turn and settled in the clearing.
Charlie dismounted and stretched. "Smooth trip."
"Was it? That's good to hear," Anthony said, getting off his own broom. Snow crunched underfoot. He stomped his feet, glad to be on solid ground again. He'd been lying on that stretcher for nearly an hour.
Hagrid was already standing, surveying the housing area. Holly wreaths on the doors gave it a more distinct Christmas feel than the Hungarian Reserve, but only just. No giant Christmas trees here. No flying fairies, drifting gold dust, or sleighs wrapped in green and red ribbons.
Given they were living in the sight—and smell—of a massive dragon population, Anthony thought it was understandable.
The long building had a tall, wide door. Charlie drew his wand and tapped it. The door sank slowly into the ground, revealing the space behind. In the dim light, Anthony could see hundreds, maybe thousands, of brooms resting silently on crammed racks. More were piled haphazardly in corners. Some had handles where the varnish had chipped, revealing the wood grain. Others bore a mottled, smoke-stained color.
"Broom shed," Charlie introduced, walking in with his broom and scanning the shelves.
"Blimey, that's not a Nimbus 2001, is it!" Hagrid said, eyeing a severely worn broom nearby.
"No, that's an Agile F1990," Charlie said, glancing over. "Model from two, three years ago. The top Agile now is the Q2000, over in Hungary."
"What's the difference between an Agile broom and a Quidditch broom?" Anthony asked curiously.
"Agiles are lighter. Focus on evasion and tight turns. And they're usually high-altitude brooms," Charlie explained with the air of an expert. "Quidditch brooms prioritize speed and ease of handling. They also have better weight-bearing capacity. Agile riders are generally lighter than professional Quidditch players, just like heavy-duty broom riders need to be stronger. We use Quidditch brooms too, but usually just for regular transport."
As he spoke, Charlie checked the stretcher broom beside Anthony and, with Hagrid's help, slotted it into an empty space on the top shelf.
The stretcher broom slid in with a satisfying click. Immediately, floating watering cans, bristle brushes, and cloths swooped over, washing and polishing the broom.
"That's brilliant," Hagrid said, watching the bustling scene with fascination.
"You could try convincing Madam Hooch to install one at Hogwarts," Charlie laughed. "Save you some waxing time in winter."
Just then, a burst of noisy chatter came from the doorway. A group of people in leathers identical to Charlie's materialized from somewhere, stepped over Hagrid's heavy-duty broom, rushed into the shed, grabbed brooms, and rushed out again.
"What's going on?" Hagrid said, bewildered, looking down as people scurried around him.
Amid the chaos, Anthony caught a few English words. "Again" and "fire."
"It's fine. I didn't hear the alarm bell," Charlie said. "Nothing critical."
He nodded to a few of them, exchanged quick "good mornings," and watched them mount their brooms and fly off. The shed quieted down again.
"Hagrid, you can put the heavy-duty over here," Charlie said, pointing to a spot by the wall.
As Hagrid hefted the massive broom, another person strode in through the shed entrance.
"Hey, Andrea. Morning," Charlie greeted.
"Morning," Andrea said. She was tall, with dark hair in a high ponytail, looking about Charlie's age.
"Weren't you on night shift?" Charlie asked.
"Short-staffed," Andrea said briskly, tightening her belt and pulling on a cap. "A team just came through for brooms, right?"
"Yeah, we saw them. What's happening?"
"Norbert's set the birch woods on fire again. East side." Her voice was calm. "Delmar and his team are already out, but Norbert seems to be on a spree. They daren't put the fire out right under his snout, so we need to contain it from the edges, stop it spreading too far… Agile, up!"
A slender broom shot from a pile into her waiting hand. She gave them a curt nod, swung a leg over, and was gone.
"Ah, Norbert. Figures," Charlie said, bending to inspect his own broom closely. "It does that from time to time. I need to return these to Katalin sometime…"
"A bad-tempered Norwegian Ridgeback. I've heard," Anthony said.
"More than bad-tempered," Charlie said. "Uncommonly, spectacularly foul-tempered. You've been warned. It might not welcome you on its turf. Might decide to light another birch grove just for you."
"I'd rather it didn't," Anthony said. "What do you think, Hagrid?"
Hagrid didn't answer.
"Hagrid?"
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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