Red Hair and Dragon Boots

Zandra told me the other day that I could be summed up in five essential facts:

"That last one is sort of irrelevant, don't you think?" I told Zandra.

"Not really. From my point of view, it's the most significant fact on the list."

"And you forgot my red hair, biting wit, and irresistible good looks," I said tiredly. I was sick of this game, whatever it was.

"As for the red hair, Bill, I said you're a Weasley, and all Weasleys have red hair."

"Not Ellie." Ellie, another cousin of ours, is an anomaly in the Weasley family. Somehow she missed out on the red hair gene and inherited her Muggle mother's silky black hair. Those two really stick out at family gatherings.

"Besides Ellie. . . and as for the rest, I must say I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about." Zandra smirked and gave me a pointed glance out of the corner of her eye, daring me to challenge her. I didn't bother. Zandra and I, as the eldest of our generation of Weasleys, have always been good friends. But lately, I've felt that it quite frankly isn't worth the bother to argue with her about anything. She's obsessed with finding a husband, much to my annoyance. Therefore, she has transformed herself into an uninteresting person.

Personally, I don't intend to ever get married. I live a perfectly content single life in Egypt, working for Gringotts Bank. I spend my weekends in London or at the Burrow, my family's home. I seldom meet any intelligent women, and I honestly can't imagine how my life would be better if I did.

Not that my life is perfect, by any means. I live under the stress of working for greedy, workaholic goblins, and I'm beginning to think that all of my friends are shallow conformists. That's just a start. My mother keeps harassing me to get married, suggesting that perhaps my long hair and unconventional dress are preventing me from meeting the right girl. This makes no sense to me. If I have to change myself to find a wife, what's the point in the first place? How could I be happy with someone who doesn't like the real Bill Weasley? It's all so pointless. People are stupid, and I'm getting tired of dealing with them.

+++

Actually, my mother is completely wrong if she thinks that my red hair and dragon boots are scaring away the females. Not to sound arrogant, but--and Zandra tells me this is true--women seem to like my appearance. "Cassie Brenlock saw you at The Leaky Cauldron last weak. She told me you looked like a real rebel. She thinks you're hot," Zandra told me.

"I think she's a complete and utter moron who's desperate to marry herself off to a wizard so she doesn't have to stoop to marrying a Muggle like her sister did." Actually, I had only met Cassiopeia Brenlock on one occasion, and at the time, I was being severely harassed by a blonde twit named Fleur Delacour. I remembered very little about her except that she was a brunette and incomparably less beautiful than the otherwise unbearably annoying Fleur.

"She is not, Bill. She's an intelligent and interesting woman," Zandra protested. We were browsing the bookshelves at Flourish and Blotts, and Zandra kept embarrassing me by looking through books with titles like Catching Your Man--Without Magic!, by Amanda Lockhart (niece of the infamous Gilderoy), and the seemingly contradictory A Few Love-Spells Never Hurt Anyone, also by Amanda Lockhart.

"You're only saying that because you fancy her brother," I shot back. "And please, Zandra, stop looking through that Amanda Lockhart crap." I was in a bad mood. Perhaps it had something to do with the tearstained owl I had received from my little sister Ginny that morning about the Muggle who had broken her heart. I don't know.

Zandra laughed and put the books back on the shelf. "Cassie!" she squealed, as a curly-haired brunette turned down our aisle.

"Speak of the devil," I muttered under my breath. Actually, away from the comparison with Fleur's incandescent Veela radiance, Cassie was rather attractive. But I knew she was still a shallow, prissy airhead.

"Cassie," Zandra said, "you know my cousin, Bill Weasley, right?" There was an infuriating slyness in her voice. "Bill, this is Cassiopeia Brenlock."

I shook Cassie's hand. "Are you an Amanda Lockhart fan, too, Cassie?" I asked with a hint of sarcasm.

Cassie looked puzzled. "Not really," she laughed. I then noticed that she was holding a rather massive volume on magical architecture. "Actually, I'm constructing a house for myself. I'm just doing a little background reading."

I was a little taken aback. Could this be a sign of actual depth? So she was interested in designing and building. It was probably just another way of reigning in some unsuspecting man; she thought her building skills would be considered an asset on the love market. Or was I being unreasonably judgmental? I thought not.

"Oh," I said. Best not to show any sign of interest, I thought, or Cassiopeia Brenlock and her mother will start planning the wedding.

"I don't want to have to, you know, stoop to marrying a Muggle, like my sister did, just to have a home of my own," Cassie said. I raised my eyebrows. Had she heard what I'd said? Between her tightly-pinched lips and her dancing eyes, it was rather hard to tell what she was thinking.

I left Zandra and Cassie to socialize with each other. I think Zandra just wanted to pull some information out of Cassie about her brother Sebastian. It has occurred to me lately that people always have ulterior motives. It's hard to trust anyone.

+++

I was sitting in my apartment when Zandra came in. "You were really rude to Cassie," she said.

"Okay."

"Bill, what's wrong with you? You used to be so outgoing, but now you're really antisocial."

"I'm a little upset right now, Zan," I told her.

"Would you like to tell me why?"

"Not really. It's not my business to tell you," I said truthfully.

"It's okay, Billy," Zandra said, "but really, please try not to use that as an excuse to be negative about everything."

I changed the subject. "Are you seeing Sebastian soon?"

"Yeah, actually, Cassie invited me to his surprise birthday party."

"Good for you," I said. I genuinely find Zandra's love life interesting. It's just so. . . busy.

"Wanna come?"

"What do you think?"

We watched television in silence.

+++

I really couldn't share with Zandra what was bothering me. It was entirely Ginny's business. I'm still fuming over the audacity of that Muggle guy, and the worst part is the thought that I introduced him to Ginny. I'm usually pretty cool-headed, but the thought of Jack Hayden hurting my sister makes me so angry I can hardly breathe.

+++

I inherited my father's fascination with Muggle culture, but I've taken my interest quite a few steps beyond plug-collecting. I have a Muggle apartment in London, complete with television, DVD player, and the Internet. I read Muggle magazines, see Muggle movies, and generally blend into Muggle society. My entire family is aware of this. My parents, however, are unaware that I am in a rock band.

We call ourselves Greyflood, and we don't have a record deal or anything--nor do we want one--but we play at clubs fairly regularly. Curt Lowell, the bass player, Ezra Gibson, a guitar player and back-up singer, and I, lead singer and guitar player, all went to Hogwarts together. We met Jack Hayden, our soon-to-be-former drummer, through mutual acquaintances.

Jack Hayden may be a Muggle, but he's managed to make his presence known in wizarding circles. He's a cousin of the Creeveys, who knew my brother Ron in school. He dated Cho Chang a couple of years ago, and he's been flitting around wizard social events ever since. At 21, he was the youngest member of the band. He seemed to be a really nice guy, but obviously, appearances can be deceiving.

Two months ago, Ginny came to hear us play and she stayed afterwards to meet my friends. I should have noticed the sickening look in Jack's eye when he saw my sister, but at the time, I really had no objections to Jack's being interested in her. She's 18, I thought, old enough to take care of herself.

+++

After Zandra left, I read back through Ginny's letter. From the shaky start to the obvious anger at the end, it upset me very much. Of course, reading it again was a form of torture, but I felt compelled to do it. I had already owled Ginny with my angry, somewhat incoherent reply, inviting her to visit, if she thought it would make her feel better. I couldn't drive the words of the letter out of my head.

+++

We had scheduled band practice that night, and I called Curt and Ezra beforehand to let them know that Jack had to leave the band. I told them that I couldn't explain why, but that he had wronged a member of my family. I think they suspected what had happened, and they didn't asked questions.

When Jack arrived ten minutes late, as usual, I was waiting for him. "Jack," I said sharply, "we have some business to discuss."

It was obvious that Jack immediately knew what I was talking about. "Bill, I wouldn't deliberately hurt your sister for anything. She's really a sweet girl, but. . ."

"Shut the hell up," I told him, grabbing his shirt and pinning his slight frame to the wall. I had never been in a fight before, but later that night, as I was washing Jack's blood off my hands, I decided that it wasn't a bad feeling at all.

Jack knew better than to show up for any more Greyflood practices.

+++

The next Monday, I Apparated back to Egypt for work. You might think that I spend a lot of time out in the hot sun, but actually, as a charm breaker, I spend my days almost entirely indoors. I work inside tombs undoing the spells that protect the treasure. The goblins are pushy and the work is usually a little isolated, but it's a challenging job and it pays well. I don't have the financial difficulties that my father did, especially since I don't have a large family to support. I only have to support myself, alone.

For the past few years, because of my familiarity with the Muggle world, I've also worked as a representative of the goblins when they periodically decide to sell some of the treasures to Muggles. Obviously, it would create quite a stir if the pointy-nosed, short, irritable goblins ventured into the Muggle world selling strange artifacts. Therefore, Gringotts has established a shop in London, tended by its more Muggle-like employees.

Muggle vacationing has become more and more popular among the wizarding population, so lately, especially during the summer months, I've been spending more and more time at the London shop, enabling Gringotts to keep a steady supply of Muggle cash for exchange with its customers.

When I reported to Gringotts Egypt headquarters that morning, my boss immediately informed me that I would be needed in the London shop for the next two months. "Travel season is coming up," he added. "We don't want to run low on Muggle money."

I normally despise working in the shop; the tasks are so mundane and devoid of intellectual challenge. But this time, I was really grateful for the opportunity to stay in London for the summer, near my family, near my friends, and mostly, near Ginny.

+++

I called Zandra up after work (using my Muggle telephone, of course) to tell her I'd be in London for the summer. "That's good, Bill. That's really, really good. Good for Ginny."

"What?"

"Oh, don't worry, Bill. Ginny told me everything. I've got her right here at my apartment," Zandra informed me.

"How is she?" I asked. I was glad Ginny had confided in Zandra. It would have been difficult to avoid the issue around Zandra. Despite my professed annoyance at Zandra's man-hunting habits, she is, in many ways, my best friend.

"She's doing really well. Really," Zandra said. "And she says she thinks the three of us should all go shopping now."

I laughed a bit. Zandra and Ginny are always trying to trick me into going shopping with them. What they don't know is that I actually enjoy it. "Sure," I said, with a false degree of reluctance.

"I need some new boots," Zandra said. "My old ones are getting a little worn out." Zandra and I are both crazy about dragon-skin boots. Not that I care about clothes or anything. . .

"Do you think Gladrags will have them? They always have such a small selection of that type of thing."

"I owled them and they do have the boots. They don't have that dragon-skin jacket I was wanting. Really, Bill, I should open my own store. Seriously. . ."

I smiled. She was always planning something, but she seldom carried out her plans, a characteristic that was equally delightful and annoying. "If you really do it, Z, I'll invest."

"Will you really?" I could hear the elation in the voice of my easily excitable cousin. "That's wonderful of you, Bill."

+++

The three of us met an hour later in Diagon Alley. Diagon Alley is a bustling marketplace during the day, but at night, it slows down and the atmosphere becomes more relaxed. Candles float in the air, and the shop windows glow with a warm, yellow light. It's my favorite time to shop there.

I hugged Ginny when I saw her. "Are you okay?" I whispered.

"I'm fine," she told me. But her eyes were still a bit red and puffy. "I'm so glad you'll be in London for the summer, Bill."

"Yeah, Bill," Zandra interrupted, "Since you'll be around, you really ought to go to Sebastian Brenlock's party with me this Friday."

"I don't know, Z. . ."

"Come on, Billy, get out. Mix a little with other people. And I promise, I won't try to set you up with Cassie. Seriously, I don't think she'd go for you, anyway."

I was a little outdone by this statement, not that I really care what Cassie Brenlock thinks of me anyway. "Why not?" I asked. "You said she thought I was hot."

"Yeah, but now she thinks you're rude and arrogant, too."

"Oh," I said. Just as well. With that concern out of the way, the prospect of a social gathering was somewhat enticing. "I guess I'll show up. Maybe I can pick up a new drummer for the band." Oops, I thought. Wrong subject. . . I bit my lip, glancing at Ginny.

Ginny just grinned a little, "So you got rid of the old one, I see?"

"More than got rid of him, dear. I beat the stuffing out of him."

"You didn't!" Ginny said in mock horror.

"I did."

Ginny laughed.

"He had it coming to him!" Zandra said. "Ginny's been telling me more stories of how horrible that man was," she added. "Did you break any bones?"

"I don't think so. Bloody nose, couple of black eyes, bruised jaw. . . that's about it."

"Do you think he'll press charges?" Ginny asked with a concerned look.

"I thought about that, and I thought about putting a memory charm on him. But that would sort of defeat the purpose of it, don't you think?" I smiled, horrified by my own maliciousness. "But really, now Jack knows that I know that Jessica Walters's baby is his. And Jessica Walters is only fifteen. . ."

Jessica Walters is a very young, very pretty, very devoted fan of Greyflood. Looking back, it seems obvious enough that Jack has been taking advantage of her. Of course, I couldn't see it at the time. Using the information is a form of blackmail, and I'm ashamed of myself for it. Lately, I've been rather ashamed of my bad attitudes. But really, I can always do a memory charm later. . .

And there I go again. . . pretty soon I'll start sounding like those Slytherins who disgusted me so much in school.

+++

Later that night, I started to regret agreeing to go to the party. I might run into some old friends, but then again, I never knew whom I might find. The Brenlocks don't exactly have the best reputation in wizarding society. Besides the fact that Guinevere, Cassie's older sister, married a Muggle football player, Cassie's mother is a French cousin of Severus Snape, insisted upon sending Cassie, Guin, and Sebastian to Beauxbatons, and is suspected of an addiction to gillywater. Cassie's father is a fairly respectable Ministry worker, but he was also involved in a gambling scandal with Ludo Bagman a few years ago. And besides, they always seem to be up to something strange, like raising farms of garden gnomes and trying to sell them as pets, or attending Muggle amusement parks.

Of course, I don't mean to sound like a snob, because, after all, I'm the son of Arthur Weasley, frequently described as "slightly loony" or "Muggle-loving". I know we're actually a normal family, even though some may consider us a little weird. But really, we're not even on the same level of weirdness as the Brenlocks.