Hermione's Dobby had been perfectly healthy lately.
So Li Meng had failed to get any dragon blood.
After the regular meeting ended,
she left in a huff.
But she had barely gone when Hermione discovered something rather awkward.
Dobby was sick.
Greedy as ever, Dobby had stolen some of the bait Zhu Si had prepared for the spirits. Now he lay in the open space behind the house, groaning and unable to move. Forget carrying Hermione back to camp—he could not even get up.
"In that case, he really should be bled."
Perched on the witch's shoulder, the Ragdoll Fox steadied herself against Hermione's ear and gazed at the huge figure groaning in the dark. She offered a solemn analysis: "Mother Jiang has a notebook in her drawer listing treatments for common dragon illnesses. The one it recommends most often is bloodletting. Unstable Magic Power and sparks from the nose and mouth mean a disrupted magic circuit, so you bleed the tip of the tail. A high fever, dizziness, and discolored Dragon Saliva mean you bleed the tips of the toes. If the scales look normal but the dragon won't get up, nine times out of ten he's faking it. Draw half a bucket of blood first, while chanting, 'A useless dragon sells his blood before his flesh and bones.' Usually, that's when they stop pretending to be asleep—"
Hermione listened with keen interest.
It was only when the Ragdoll Fox got to the bloodletting treatment for overeating that she snapped back to her senses.
"That really won't be necessary."
The brown-haired witch gave a dry laugh. "He just ate too much. He'll be fine after a rest—did you hear that? I should have let Li Meng take thirty or fifty pounds of blood from you. Let's see if you'd