FicWad

Warden Headquarters, early morning, 09 December


“Good morning, Marie!” says Charlie, as he enters the office from the floo room, carrying his duffel bag full of presents and clothes.

Seated on her wheeled swivel chair, Marie turns, as she zips along on her chair between two different desks. “Hi ya, Charlie! You're up bright and early. I didn't expect you for another two hours.”

“Two hours? Why two hours?”

“Don't tell me you forgot about the time zones again?”

“OH- no, I actually remembered this time!” Charlie blushes and smiles. He'd had problems before with the zone changes. “No, I figure that I'd be spending extra time at the Ministry, since I'm playing Courier on this trip. If I get there early, I can still reach the Burrow in time for my Mum's breakfast!”

“Ah, that's right!” Marie stands up and walks over to a locked filing cabinet. She spins the dials on the Muggle combination lock, then opens the third drawer. From within, she takes out a large satchel, bound in thick leather and secured with a strange silver locking mechanism. She places it on the desk next to the cabinet.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Y-yes, I'm ready!”

“C'mon over here, then, and bring your bag.”

Charlie fastens his coat, and grabs the handle on the side of the bag. He walks over to Marie and the desk.

“Have you delivered one of these before?”

“Not one of 'those',” he says, referring to that particular satchel bag.

“The bag is the Portkey, so hold onto whatever your traveling with. When you grasp this handle, I will insert my wand into this hole.” She indicated the two features with the tip of her wand. “I'll set the lock and activate the Portation Charm. Once I set the lock, your hand is 'glued' to that handle. After I remove my wand, you'll have only five seconds before it sends you on your way. When you reach London, someone in the Minister's Office will deactivate the lock, freeing your hand from the bag, and you from your responsibility for the bag. Understand?”

“Hai!” he replies, with a teasing smile.

Marie laughs at his little joke. She reaches up to straighten his collar and button the top of his coat. As she does, she notices the love bite on his collarbone.

“Oh, ho! Looks like someone's been marked!” Marie laughs her evil laugh. “Oh, I wish I could be there when your Mother sees that, Charlie Weasley!”

“Bloody hell, Marie!” Charlie frowns as he blushes.

“Wait a minute, I've got something that might help.” She steps over to another drawer, opens it, and retrieves a small container. Unscrewing the top of it, she dips her fingertip into it, then reaches up to smear the masking cream onto the bruise. “There, that should last a few hours.”

“Thanks, Marie! I don't suppose I could borrow that for three days?”

“No way, sailor! A woman never goes anywhere without her make-up!” Then, looking up at the clock on the wall, she says, “Time to get you on your way, lover boy.”

Charlie grasps his duffel bag firmly, then the satchel bag/Portkey. He nods his readiness.

Marie inserts her wand, muttering an incantation under her breath, then turns the wand. A solid click is heard. She turns the wand back, and mutters another incantation. Withdrawing the wand, she steps back, counting down from 'five'. As she reaches 'one', the Portation Vortex lifts Charlie, beginning the long transfer from Romania, ...



Ministry of Magic

...to London, dropping him gently onto the Portation target in the Portkey Office at the Ministry of Magic. The large target, a tiled Mosaic embedded into the black obsidian room floor, has the words “Welcome to London and the Ministry of Magic. Please step off quickly!” embedded around it. Charlie quickly does as is suggested, hearing a gong going off, announcing another impending arrival.

A welcoming arch greets arrivals in several languages, and beckons him forward. In the room beyond, a small sign on an unattended desk indicates the person who should be on duty there, is “Out to Tea”. Another sign on the wall instructs incoming arrivals to have a seat. A smaller line indicates that all Couriers should go on in to the Office proper.

Stepping into the next room, Charlie is greeted by a Wizard, who looks up, and says, “Romania?”

“That's me! Charlie...”

“Weasley, of course! Arthur's son!” The older Wizard stands and steps around his desk, offering his hand and a wide, early morning smile. Then, as it dawns on him that Charlie's right hand is attached to the courier bag, he drops the hand, and says, “I'm Lionel Benden-Smythe, a friend of your parents.”

“Pleased to meet you, sir.”

“Please, call me Lionel!” he says, graciously. Then, indicating a chair where Charlie could sit, he says, “We'll just get your registered quickly, and then you can get on to the Minister's Office.”

Ten minutes later, Charlie drops his duffel bag, and knocks on the outer door to Rufus Scrimgeour's office.

“Enter!” is the shout from beyond the frosted glass door.

Charlie opens the door, and grasping his bag by it's neck, drags it in after him.

“Charlie?”

Percy Weasley sits behind the cluttered Administrative Assistant's desk, looking up at his brother with surprise on his face, from behind a pair of wire rimmed glasses.

“Oi, Perce, I didn't know you'd been promoted! Congratulations, bro!”

As Charlie was Percy's favorite brother during their school years, he deigned to stand as Charlie stepped through the door. “Welcome back to England, Charlie.”

“Thanks, Perce. I'd offer to shake, but...” he lifts his right hand, which is firmly attached to the Courier Satchel.

“Oh, right, one second.” He steps from behind his desk, and enters the open doorway into the private office of the Minister.

Charlie can hear a brief conversation from beyond, then watches Percy return with a wand in his hand.

“Would you place that up on the desk, please?”

As Charlie does so, the door behind him, which had shut on its own, reopens.

As Percy slides the wand in his hand into the lock, a voice behind Charlie says, “Ah, just in time, I see!”

His hand freed from the handle at last, Charlie, and Percy, both look to the owner of that 'voice'.

Albus Dumbledore steps into the office, carefully closing the door behind him. Turning, he smiles, greeting the other occupants of the room.

“Hello Charlie! Good morning to you, Percival. And to you, Rufus!”

Charlie and Percy turn to see that the Minister himself had come forward, having heard Dumbledore's clear voice from within his office.

“What brings you forth from Hogwarts this time of morning, Dumbledore?”, asks Scrimgeour, with a trace of imperiousness.

“A message, informing me that I should expect a parcel in the Courier bag arriving this morning from Romania,” he says, simply.

“Mr. Weasley, is there indeed a parcel for the Headmaster? We certainly don't want to keep him waiting.”

Nervous, Percy begins to remove the contents of the satchel. Three envelopes containing several folders and reports for various minor departments of the Ministry are first. Another package, thicker, and more securely bound, addressed to the Minister's Office, is next. Percy hands that one directly to Scrimgeour. Finally, Percy removes a thick, well bound, rigid package, addressed to “Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore.” It is marked “For his eyes only” on the outside. The label, clearly seen by Scrimgeour, prompts the Minister to ask, “Would you mind if I ask who sent that package to you?”

“Normally yes, but in this circumstance, Rufus, I do not mind at all. The package is from Lord Aramys. As you know, it is part of my duty as Headmaster, to pass on recommendations to various institutions, information about promising young Witches and Wizards. This package, I feel certain, is simply Lord Aramys returning several copies of dossiers of students that Ifeel are worthy of his consideration.

Satisfied with his answer, Scrimgeour nods and returns to his office.

As the tension in the air bleeds away, Charlie smiles and says, “It's good to see you again, Professor!”

“A pleasure to see you also, Charlie. Why don't you finish with your brother, and I'll meet you in the hallway. We'll walk together and visit your father, He should be in his office by now.”

“Yes sir.”

“Good day, Percival.” Not expecting an answer from the one time Head Boy, Albus exits, closing the door behind him.

Following a brief pause, Charlie clears his throat, and asks,”So, I guess you and our parents are still at odds?” When Percy tightens up his lips, a habit of his for many years when confronted with a situation of 'principles', Charlie sighs, then asks, “Are you at least coming home for Christmas?”

“I'll be working, most likely. I don't have the time for frivolity anymore, Charlie. I take my job very seriously.”

Frowning, Charlie sets his bag on end, and using his wand, opens up the laced enclosure on top. “Well, since you won't be there...” He extracts the wrapped package with Percy's name on it. “Here, Merry Christmas, Perce.”

Embarrassed, Percy says, “Thank you, Charlie.”

After re-lacing the bag closed, Charlie offers his hand to Percy, who grudgingly accepts it, saying,“Merry Christmas to you, also, Charlie.” Watching as his brother turns and opens the door, he calls out, “Happy Birthday, Charlie.”



Outside in the hallway, Albus sits peacefully waiting for Charlie. As Charlie steps out of the office, he stands, using the chair rails to aid his effort. It is then that Charlie notices the damaged right hand.

“Professor, what happened to your hand?”

“Ah, that is a tale best told at another time, Charlie. There are too many ears in these walls” he adds in a conspiratorial manner. “I, too, wish you a Happy Birthday. I must say, I didn't expect to see you home this soon.” The two of them begin walking.

“Due to the weather, and the several extra rotations that I have been working these past few months, Lord Aramys arranged for me to have some time off.”

“His message to me did say that he was sending you with the Courier package. I sense that he is keeping a closer eye on you these days.”

“May and I did have an interview with him last month. I'm sorry, May is my girlfriend; Mayumi Zark is her full name.”

“Yes, your young Dragon Rider lass. It would seem from the ring upon your finger that your relationship is proceeding rather quickly.”

Charlie looks down at the ring, having forgotten it was there in plain sight. He looks back up to Albus, saying, “It's only been a few months, Professor, but it feels like she is the one.”

“Are you considering marriage?”

“Not that I want my family to know this yet, but, we're already considering family!” They walk in silence past a group of Witches and Wizards, several of which greet the Headmaster. Turning a corner, they head for the stairwell, deciding to avoid the over-crowded lifts.

“Yesterday, in fact, we talked about whether or not we want children. We both do... then the question came up if I was actually proposing to May.”

“What did you say?”

“I told her that it was important to me to talk to her Father, and ask for his blessing, before I formally ask her to marry. I told her that, no matter his answer, I plan on asking her.”

“Why not ask her then? Or is there something unspoken to be considered?”

“The Japanese families of the Enclave are very traditional people. Although their traditions are sometimes varied from mainland Japan, they are still very proud of them.” They walk a bit more before he continues. “There is some history of... tension, between May and her father. It has to do with family honor, and her not being born a male into a patriarchal bloodline.”

“Ah, I see your concern.”

“I want our children, who will grow up amongst the people of the Dragon Preserve, and the Enclave, to be proud of the heritage of both of our families. I want them to know their maternal and paternal grandparents both, and the extended Weasley family and the Zark - Sato families.”

Reaching the stairwell, Albus puts his arm on Charlie and says, “You're a good man, Charlie Weasley. I applaud your principles.”

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate that.”

They open the door and begin to descend to the next floor.

“Sir, have you heard whether or not Bill's engagement is still on? I've not heard even a peep from the family in any of their letters.”

“Your mother is waging a useless war, I am afraid. Undoubtedly, William and Miss Delacour will marry, and most likely, this summer.” Albus delivers that last line with a slightly sad note to his voice.

“Then sir, I think I'd like to keep the details of the extent of my relationship to Mayumi a secret for the time being. I don't want to take anything away from Bill and Fleur. This will be their time.”

“I understand.”

Pausing on the landing to catch his breath, Albus asks, “Since you are wearing a ring of hers, have you given her a ring also?”

“Umm, no. I haven't decided what I'm going to buy for her for Christmas yet, either. I was thinking about buying her engagement ring, and giving it to her on her birthday in February. I plan on asking Fred and George for some advice, since they have a better feel for what might be available at the stores in Diagon Alley.” They both started back down the stairs, slowly. “Maybe a nice pendant, something 'different'.”

“Well, I'm sure something will turn up that would be appropriate!”

They both pause their conversation as Charlie opens the door to Level 2, Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

“Let's find your father, then you can give me your report on your recruitment efforts at the Dragon Preserve.”

Charlie nods, as the two of them begin to weave their way to find the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects.

The Burrow

One hour later, after having caught up with his father, Arthur, and delivering his written and verbal report to Professor Dumbledore, Charlie Apparates home, to the base of the Old Oak tree at the far end of their yard; one of his favorite spots from his younger days. Dropping the end of his duffel bag onto the snow covered ground, he pauses, brushes the snow free from the wooden plank that is the old rope swing seat, and plops down wistfully, to drink in the heart warming sight in front of him.

Through the lightly falling flakes of snow, Charlie can see the Winter candles glowing brightly in each window, bidding all who see them to come in and get warm. From the eaves of the snow covered roofs, icicles hang sharply, all sparklely with light reflected by the metallic gold tinsel entwined and frozen within. Large red ribbons and bows hold long green garlands of pine boughs in place, which help to frame each of the floors, and the doorway, of the Burrow. The snow covered trees and shrubs around the Burrow magically glisten and glow with sparkles of silver and red, or green and gold.

Quietly, to himself, Charlie whispers, /“May, my love, I wish you could see this.”/A pang of separation anxiety causes him to catch his breath. Standing again, he picks up his bag, shoulders the strap, and walks towards the front doorway. As he approaches, he can see the large wreath upon the door, made from the largest red Poinsettia leaves he has ever seen.



Inside, Molly Weasley is orchestrating the actions of several different enchanted implements in the kitchen, while keeping a nervous eye on the activities of her future daughter-in-law, who insists on helping out with the Christmas decorations inside the house.

The soft peal of the bell within the family clock surprises Molly, who quickly shuffles over to it in her favorite pair of fuzzy slippers.

“Iz 'zhat Bill, Molly?”

“No, Fleur, it's... Charlie?”

The front door squeaks as Charlie opens the door, letting in the cold air, and a flurry of snow flakes.

“Mum? I'm home!” He calls out, stomping his feet free of any snow he might be dragging in with him.

“Charlie!” Molly makes a beeline to wrap her second oldest in a hearty hug, with a kiss on the cheek.

“It's good to see you, Mum!” Charlie's wide smile reflects on Molly's face as she returns it in full. With her help, Charlie begins to unfasten his coat, having dropped the duffel bag to the floor already. Then, spotting the other female occupant of the room, he asks, “Fleur?”

“Mais oui, Charlie!” Fleur answers with a smile, very pleased to be acknowledged and recognized. Her long silvery blond hair catches the warm colors of the room, adding an alluring glow to the graceful beauty that she had inherited from her Veela bloodline.

Wanting to distract her son, Molly asks, “Why didn't you message that you were coming home, after all? That last we heard you weren't going to be able to make it home for the holidays, or your birthday!”

“Well, I've been putting in extra hours at work, and the Head of the Dragon Preserve decided to let me bring a courier satchel back to London. So, here I am!”

“Wonderful!” Molly was always overjoyed when Charlie could make it home. “How long can you stay?”

“I have to return on Wednesday, Mum.”

“You don't even get to stay for your birthday?”, Molly replies with disappointment. “Why can't you stay another day or two? We hardly ever get the chance to see you, dear!”

Charlie puts his arm around Molly, turning her towards the kitchen. Fleur, listening closely, moves from the other side of the room to join them. As Charlie holds a chair out for Fleur, and then his mother, he replies, “I'll be home at the end of the school year, I promise.” Then, looking over Molly's back to where Fleur was sitting opposite of her, he silently mouthes the words to her, “And for the wedding!” Fleur winks and smiles, showing for a moment her perfect white teeth.

Walking over to the hearth, Charlie grabs a padded kitchen glove first, then the hot handle of the tea kettle. Molly levitates three cups over to the table, followed by three spoons, and then the small honey pot.

“Charlie? I've already noticed zhat you do not use your wand az much az most Wizards. Iz zher'a reason?”, asks Fleur.

Sitting down at the end of the table, while Molly uses magic to pour the tea into each of the cups, Charlie replies, “At the Dragon Preserve, while we are on duty out amongst the Dragons, we use as little magic as possible, Fleur. The Dragons are... sensitive to magic. We try to stay out of their way as much as possible, preferring to observe. Nobody flies on brooms or even Disapparates, unless in an emergency. So, we make do with doing a lot of the menial things by hand and muscle.”

Molly smiles proudly, moving her left hand from around the warm cup of tea, to place it over Charlie's right hand. It is then that Molly notices the thin woven band around her son's third finger.

“What is this?” she asks.

“A gift from a friend, Mum.” Then, “A gift from my girlfriend,” he says, begrudgingly. Charlie lifts the tea cup to his lips, hiding his face behind the ceramic vessel and his two hands.

Then, as Molly sits there digesting that revelation, she narrows her gaze, noting something different about her son's neck, beneath the open collar of his shirt. With a flick of her wand, she silently casts, /“Scourgify”/. The cover make-up is instantly removed from his neck, revealing the sucker bite beneath.

“And what's that? Another 'gift' from your girlfriend?” she asks.

Fleur puts down her cup and covers her mouth with her hand as she begins to giggle.

Fighting off Molly's probing wand tip, he says, “Mum, I'm not your little boy any longer!” The pregnant silence in the room is almost deafening. He then adds,“Her name is May.” Charlie decides not to reveal the full first name. All the Weasley children learned at an early age to editorialize the amount of information that they volunteered to their mother.

“Well, tell me about her!”

“She is a Dragon Warden... like myself. We met back in the late summer while on the job. She grew up at the Dragon Preserve.” Charlie pauses, once again taking a two-fisted drink from his cup.

Clearly, Molly expects more. It's written all over her face as she stares at her son.

“Well, what else do you want me to say, Mum?”

“How about, what school did she go to, or how old she is, or maybe even, what that ring is supposed to mean?”

“Le ring iz supposed to mean zat she iz in love with Charlie, izn't eet?” interjects Fleur.

Molly, having temporarily forgotten that Fleur wasn't actually family – yet, breaks her focused gaze at her son, and bites back a comment for Bill's young fiancée.

Charlie, recognizing the tension, says simply, “Yes, it does.” As Molly digests his answer, he pushes back from the table, and makes his way to Molly's cupboards.

“Charlie, what are you doing?” she asks.

“I was hoping to get some breakfast, Mum. I'm starving!”

In a sudden rush of embarrassed motherly pride, Molly pushes back from the table, her wand in hand, and quickly has pots and pans flying about anew. She stands and makes her way to the larder. Pausing as she passes, she smiles and pats Charlie on his chest. He smiles back. In a quieter voice, she says,“Go and sit down, dear. I'll have some hot breakfast ready for you in a moment or two.” Then, looking over to Fleur, she says,“Go help Fleur with the decorations.”

As the two move deeper into the living room, out of Molly's supposed range of hearing, Fleur whispers conspiratorially, “'ave you two decided to marry, yet?”

Charlie places his finger to his lips, and nervously glances over towards the kitchen.

“She cannot 'ear what we say, can she?”

“YES she can, Fleur,” he whispers back. “She's a Prewett, and they can hear a gnome break wind out in the middle of a wind storm!”

Proving his point, Molly calls out,“What are you two whispering about over there?”

With a smile of surprise on her face, Fleur answers, “We are plotting what we want to get you and Arthur for Noel.”

Charlie laughs quietly, admiring Fleur for her spunk.

Molly doesn't answer.

“Seriously, Charlie, 'ave you?” she whispers, even quieter.

“Don't tell anyone, promise?”

Fleur makes the sign of the cross, then kisses the tips of her fingers. “I promise, Charlie!”

“Well, we've talked about it, but there hasn't been a formal proposal yet.”

Fleur lifts his right hand in both of hers. “You do know zat 'zis iz a serious sign of 'ow she feels about you, don't you?”

Looking down once again at the delicately braided lock of Mayumi's hair, he answers with a slip of the tongue. “Hai!”

Fleur smiles brightly. “I knew it! 'Zis iz a lock of 'er 'air, non? She is Japonaise!”

Once again, Charlie raises his finger to his lips, shushing Fleur.

The flush on Fleur's face is radiant. “Charlie, 'zis iz so romantique! Iz 'er name actually'May'?”

“Mayumi is her full name. Mayumi Zark.”

“Ah, what a beautiful name!”Charlie's love for May is such that he barely feels the effects of the radiant emanations of wistful romanticism that Fleur is giving off.

Growing nervous that Fleur is going to give his secret away, Charlie whispers, “Remember, tell no one, please! Not even Bill!”

“Do not worry, Charlie. I gave you my promise! Eet iz safe wiz me.”

“Thank you.”

As the two of them turn to finally begin to hang some decorations, Molly summons Charlie to the table for his home-cooked breakfast.



Two hours later, Charlie is alone in the Burrow, as Molly and Fleur had left earlier to go to the market in Ottery St. Catchpole.

Listening to the sounds of Christmas music coming from the old wireless, he begins to pen a letter for both Ron and Ginny, explaining how sorry he is that he will not be able to see them for the holiday. He makes a point of assuring them that he did not forget them, in regards to Christmas presents. As soon as he finishes, he rolls up the parchment and ties it off with a length of yarn that he had plucked from Molly's knitting basket earlier.

Setting that first letter aside, he begins a fresh parchment for Fred and George, writing,

To the Esteemed Owners of the Finest Shoppe of Frivolous Foibles and Wondrous Wheezes that a Weasley, or a Wizard, would ever wish for, I bid thee, Oi!

Dear Fred and George,

Just a quick note to let you know I'm back home 'til Wednesday, and to ask a favor from the both of you. You may not have heard, though news seems to get around fast these days, I have actually managed to find a girl friend! Her name is May, and she works with me in Romania.

Guys! I need ideas for what to buy her for Christmas. I want to get her some jewelry. I know you blokes must have lots of contacts by now, there in Diagon Alley. Can you help?

Will be in touch, soon!

Charlie

P.S. Please send Errol on his way to Hogwarts with the second letter, which is for Ginny and Ron.



Finishing up, Charlie then rolls the second letter around the first, making it easier to transport. Another piece of purloined yarn secures the parcel.

Getting up, he finds old Errol, their decrepit Owl, and affixes the message to his leg. Taking a moment to pet his old bird, he opens the back door next to the sink and sends it on its way to Diagon Alley.


Diagon Alley, Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes


Amidst stacks of cardboard boxes and empty display carousels, four men sit around an old wooden desk, which is pushed up against the wall beneath a very large, multi-pane window. The dirty glass (on the outside) diffuses the wintry, washed out, London sunlight even further. There is a chill in the room, as the window is not insulated.

Two of the men, barely men at that, sit at an angle to each other, at one end of the desk, with their feet up on the well worn wood. Each of them holds a small, open topped jar in one hand, and a plastic pipe to their mouths, with the other. The other two men, one of which bears a strong family semblance to the first two, sit and drink tea from over-sized ceramic mugs, as they watch the spectacle in front of them.

Fred and George are trying out one of their newest creations, “Blowhardt's Belligerent Bubbler.” Each of them are blowing a long chain of soap bubbles from their plastic pipe. As the chain of floating bubbles grow larger, it begins to morph into the shape of a fantastical creature. George has a blue Basilisk hovering in the air above his pipe. Fred has a red Stone Troll above his.

Meanwhile, Bill Weasley and Albus Dumbledore sit sipping their tea, enjoying the rare moment of light hearted entertainment. They both watch as Fred's Stone Troll takes a mighty swipe with his tree trunk-like club at the head of the Basilisk, only to miss, as the large snake ducks out of the way at the last minute. Caught off guard, the Stone Troll is defenseless as the Basilisk rears up in front of it. Suddenly, the twin yellow orbs of its eyes glow, petrifying the red Stone Troll. Fred's long string of bubbles burst in defeat.

Bill sets down his cup and begins to clap in appreciation, as Prof. Dumbledore, with his impaired hand, offers a heartfelt round of “Bravo, Bravo!”

The twins return the plastic pipes to the insides of the screw topped jars, resealing their lids. A quick 'high-five' passes between them, as they bask in the glow of their appreciative audience.

“Well done, gentlemen, well done!”

“Thanks, Professor!” says George.

“Is the type of monster set for each of the colors?” asks Bill.

“Yes,” answers George.

“We have six colors so far, though these are the only two perfected,” replies Fred, matter-of-factly.

“But the trick is, the more you use it and practice, the more belligerent your creature gets!” adds George, with a devious smile upon his face.

“I wish I could have had you boys for all seven years,” laments Albus. “Your magic is sheer genius at times.”

“Thanks, Professor!” they both reply simultaneously.

Just at that moment, Bill coughs and spits out a mouthful of tea, spraying it about. He stands up and leans over the desk, then climbs up on his knees. He reaches for the latch on the window sash, opening it wide just in time for Errol to avoid crashing into the panes of glass.

As he flies into the room, Errol tries to land on the flat desk top, only to skid off and plough into a stack of empty cardboard boxes, causing them to tumble to the floor. Fred quickly reaches in and retrieves Errol, careful to mind his talons. George begins to re-stack the boxes, as Bill closes the window once again.

Ever observant, Albus silently casts/“Scourgify”/ upon the desk top, removing all traces of Bill's tea and small motes of Errol's aged feathers.

“Errol, what are we going to do with you?” asks Fred, as he checks for injuries. Finding none, he removes the parcel from the owl's leg. Carefully setting Errol down to perch on the back of Georges chair, he unwraps the roll of parchment. As the letter for Ron and Ginny slips free, he catches it and places it on the table.

“Is it from Mum?” asks George.

Fred begins to read, then smiles brightly, saying, “No, it's from Charlie! He's home.” He reads a bit more, then says, “Oi, guys, he's got 'imself a girl! He says her name is May. Listen to this...”



“Guys! I need ideas for what to buy her for Christmas. I want to get her some jewelry. I know you blokes must have lots of contacts by now, there in Diagon Alley. Can you help?”



“What do you think, Bill?” asks George.

All three of them toss some ideas around, but no one comes up with anything certain.

Not letting on that he had already met with Charlie that very morning, Albus says, “Gentlemen, I have an idea.” He stands up, as if getting ready to leave. With a glint in his eyes, he says, “I believe I may be able to find something that will be suitable. However, the item I have in mind will require a neck chain of high quality, and considerable length.” He pauses, lowering his head to look at the three Weasleys over the tops of the lenses of his half-moon glasses. “With your resources, and contacts, I feel certain that won't be a problem, will it?”

The two twins look at each other, then reach the same conclusion at the same time. “Caractacus, the Goblin!”

Quickly, Albus chimes in, shaking his head from side to side. “No, no, no. No goblin worked chains, please. I'm thinking, Ancient Egyptian.”

Bill sparks up, saying, “I know just the man! “ Bill reaches for the letter from Charlie, and, grabbing a quill from an ink pot that is close at hand, quickly writes a name on the bottom of the parchment. He tears it off, and hands it to Fred.

Fred looks at it, reading,“Professor Darwinius Frazier-Tompkins, curator, Museum of Ancient Wizarding History.” Looking puzzled, he asks, “Do you know him?”

“Yeah, I once did a few favors for him when I was in Egypt. Just tell him you're my brothers. He owes me a return favor or two.”

George asks, “How do we get there, Bill? I've never heard of this place.”

“Simple, just take the Knight Bus! Ernie will put you on the doorstep.”

Both of the twins stand. As Fred begins to attach the letter addressed to Ron and Ginny to Errol's leg, now that the owl had rested a bit, George grabs their coats. Bill quickly adds, “Don't forget to take a fair amount of Galleons, guys. You'll need it!”

“Is he a Wizard, then, or a Muggle?”

“Oh, he's a Squib. He'll take anyone's money, but he prefers Galleons. Oh, and don't mention Goblins around him. He hates them!”

“Gentlemen, once you obtain the chain, hand deliver it to William, who will bring it to me. Any questions?”

George answers, just as Fred sends Errol on his way to Hogwarts. “None, Professor.”

“Good. Now, I'll meet you both here again on Monday, to discuss what we failed to discuss today.” Before the twins hi-jacked the meeting with their newest invention, the four of them had planned on discussing Order business. “William, please walk with me. I have some business to attend to, at Gringotts.”

“Yes, Professor.”

All four of them exit the back room, and then the shop, which is doing a steady amount of business, considering most of their clientèle are still in school. Outside, a few wet flakes fall from the sky. The paving stone walks are clear of snow, though there a few shop canvas awnings that sag under the accumulated snow of the past day. As Fred and George wave goodbye, turning to make their way to the Leaky Cauldron, then out onto the street beyond, Professor Dumbledore places his right arm about Bill's shoulders and back.

Outwardly, it looks only as if the arm is there as a sign of comradeship. But Bill can feel the pressure that Dumbledore is exerting on him. Knowing that he would not speak of whatever had put him into this apparent state of weakness, Bill slowly walks on, being as supportive as possible. They move slowly down the walkway, towards Gringotts. Their conversation focuses mainly on Bill and Fleur, covering only 'safe' topics. As they slowly climb the front steps, one at a time, Albus takes the time to point out various points of interest in the front architecture of the building. Bill keeps up the facade.

Inside, they head straight for the first Goblin that is available. Bill stands back as Dumbledore and the Goblin, named Wurtz, converse in Gobbledegook. Then, Bill watches as Wurtz steps down from behind his teller's perch, disappearing into one of the many back rooms. A minute later, he re-emerges out from behind the tall front teller windows, signaling them to follow along. Albus waits for Bill, then places his good hand on his offered forearm.

Entering into a seldom used elevator cage, Wurtz, who acknowledges Bill finally, closes the gilt door, then removes a special key, which activates the lift. Down they go, until some ten levels later, they are in a dim hallway. Whereas most of the vaults are carved into the rock below Diagon Alley and the city of London, these Vaults, numbered I through X, are the original Gringotts Vaults. The walls are lined with dense metal, decorated with panels of unknown wood. The floor is made of Venetian marble. The high, arched ceiling, is hidden in shadows, as the hanging chandeliers are lit only by small amounts of Gubraithian fire.

“Vault 'roman numeral three',” says Wurtz, suddenly.

The Professor produces a key from within his robe pocket. He approaches the heavy vault door, and slips the large key into one of three hundred and thirty three keyholes. Wurtz, another key in his hand, slips it into another one of the many holes. Together they turn their keys, until a loud click is heard, followed by the sounds of the precision mechanical movements within the Goblin made vault door. Slowly, the bolts withdraw, and the door begins to slowly swing forward.

His task complete, Wurtz simply turns and walks back to the lift cage, where he unfolds a small seat from the wall, and sits down to wait for his customer to complete his business.

“Would you open the door further, William?”

“Yes, Professor.” Bill steps up and slowly widens the opening into the vault. Stepping aside, he makes room for the Professor to enter the dark space.

With a flick of his wand, the sconces within the room flare up, giving light to the space. “Please wait here.” Albus stands up a bit straighter and walks into the large, cube-shaped compartment.

Whereas most of the vaults that Bill has seen have been either small cubbyholes, with a few books, ledgers, and maybe small piles of coins or other treasures, or large affairs with hordes of coins and scattered treasures, whole libraries of ancient tomes, and chests of unknown origin, Albus Dumbledore's vault was meticulously organized, and almost completely empty. A long table to one side has a sizable wooden chest upon it, and three small bundles that are well wrapped. In the center, a large wardrobe stands, it's doors partially open.

Dumbledore walks over to the wardrobe first, opening the doors wide. Inside, several robes hang, each protected by a shimmering film. To the side, several small drawers sit. It is the contents of two of these drawers that Albus is drawn to first. From within the first, he extracts a small parcel of wrapped parchment. From the second drawer, a larger one, he removes a flat wooden box, the size of his palm. Then, from a long flat drawer at the bottom of the wardrobe, he lifts out a large sized, drawstring bag. Shimmering threads are woven into the soft crimson silk of the bag.

Closing the drawer, and then sealing the wardrobe with his wand, Albus moves to the table. There, with his wand, he begins to reduce the size of the wooden chest, until it reaches half of its normal size. He then stretches the open mouth of the bag around the chest, until it encompasses it completely. With little effort, he pulls the drawstring tight, closing the neck of the bag. He then tosses the seemingly empty bag over his shoulder.

Stepping out from the vault, he pulls Bill aside. Handing him the parcel of parchment that he had just removed, Professor Dumbledore says, “I don't want this to be opened until after the wedding. Inside is a vault key to another vault that I have set up to be used as a trust for any Weasley progeny so they may always be able to pay for Hogwarts schooling and the books that they may require.”

Bill's jaw drops in disbelief. “Sir, that is a small fortune!”

“You will administer these funds for me, William. I trust you to manage them competently! There are more specific details within the parcel.”

“Y-yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Don't tell your parents, or your siblings, please.”

“I understand. Professor, are you alright? I'm getting the feeling that something is wrong with...”

“I'm just a tired, old fool, William. Don't worry, I'll be hanging around for sometime to come.” He smiles, as he once again claims Bill's forearm for his hand. “One thing, it is important for you to bring Charlie to me at the Hogshead, in Hogsmeade, at 8 a.m. on the morning of the 11th. Bring the chain with you, also. Make sure Charlie is packed and ready to return to Romania, as I will have something for him to deliver, as well as his 'gift'. Tell him, if he asks, that I'll have his Portkey for the return trip.”

“Yes sir.”


The Burrow

Relaxing after the long day of transcontinental travel, meetings at the Ministry, and renewing family bonds, Charlie sits back in one of the old, patched and re-stuffed, reclining chairs, listening to Fred and George as they relate some story or another pertaining to their joke shop. Across from him, Bill and Fleur cuddle together in the love seat, while Arthur and Molly relax side-by-side on the old sofa, facing the fire. Earlier, Molly had outdone herself with a large dinner, that they had all been barely able to finish. Now, mugs of tea, or in the case of Molly and Fleur, glasses of French wine, are in the hands of the everyone, as they relax.

“So, what are your plans for tomorrow, Charlie?” asks Bill.

“After breakfast, I thought I'd go out and cut us the family tree. Anyone care to join me?”

“I wish I could, mate, but I've got to make a quick trip to Barcelona for the bank in the morning.”

Disappointed, Molly asks, “How long will you be gone, dear?”

“Just for the morning, Mum. I'll be back in London after lunch.”

“George, Fred, what about the two of you?”

“Sorry, Charlie...” begins George.

“...but we have meetings with two separate suppliers,” finishes Fred.

“Besides, we're still working on that 'project' that you mentioned in your letter, earlier.”

“What project would that be, boys?” asks Arthur.

“I asked them for some help with some ideas for a Christmas gift, Dad.”

“Oh.”

“What about you, Dad? Fancy a walk through the woods tomorrow over to the old pine patch?”

“Not a chance, son,” Arthur replies, regretfully. “Would be nice to do so, but not now, not with my work load piling up.”

“Your father's department made a discovery yesterday,” boasts Molly.

“Yes, our people in the Muggle Customs department detected a shipment of magical shield rings, trying to sneak into the country as ornamental suits of old armor. The armor was supposed to be used in some Muggle movie.”

Fred and George look at each other, as if they might have an interest in the outcome of those rings.

“Mum? Fleur? Guess that leaves the three of us!”

Fleur perks up, then turns to take her lead from Molly.

“Well, Mum? Are you up for it?”

“It has been a long time since I was there, last,” she answers tentatively.

“Go on, Molly! It'll be a lark!” Arthur prods her on, smiling as he nudges her.

Blushing, Molly gives in.

“Excellent, Mum. Fleur, would you like to go?”

“If Molly does not mind,” she looks anxiously over to Molly. Receiving no objections, she continues, saying, “then yes I would, Charlie.”

“Then it's settled. We'll go right after breakfast!”