Bill Weasley and the Castle Terabil

Bill Weasley trudged up the stairs to Dumbledore's office. Bill grinned to himself as he reflected on just how many times Weasley children had walked up these very stairs; sometimes eagerly, sometimes urgently, most times reluctantly. Fred and George in particular, he thought amusedly. Ah well, their joke-playing days have finally paid off, Bill thought, as he recalled the dinner conversation the night before.

Fred and George had Floo'd in just before Mum had served, cheering triumphantly. Ron had tried to ask what was going on, but they just yelled, "We did it! We did it!" That must have triggered something in Ginny, because she started shouting "You did? That's brilliant!" and began to cheer as well. Bill and Ron had just looked blankly at each other and shrugged. Mum had stomped into the kitchen with a steely glare and rapped Fred on the head with her wand. Fred, George and Ginny immediately quieted. Ginny sat down, staring at the table, though she couldn't keep the grin off her face.

"What," Mum had said in a dangerously low voice, "is the meaning of this racket you two-you three- have been making? In case you have forgotten," her voice raised to cover Fred's reply, "your father will be home any minute and he will surely have a headache. Now what is the meaning of this?" she had shrieked.

Fred and George stood quietly. Then identical grins had broken out on both their faces. "We sold over a hundred fake wands in the first week--"

"And fifty fireworks--"

"Seventy-five Skiving Snackboxes--"

"Which was twice our goal for all of them!" Fred exclaimed joyfully.

"Not to mention all the other miscellaneous items we've sold," George added.

"With this and the money Harry gave us, we can afford to lease our flat and stay there for another year!"

Mum had suppressed a smile, though the corners of her mouth had twitched proudly, and told them to sit down, she would give them a decent dinner for a change, and did they ever remember to do laundry, and if they didn't business would surely drop because of the stench, but she supposed if they didn't remember the charms, they could bring their clothes home, and she'd teach them, and she didn't suppose they ever had a decent meal, and were they hungry?

Bill smiled and knocked on Dumbledore's door.

"Come in, it's open," Dumbledore called cheerfully.

Bill walked in, and seated himself. "How are you, sir?" he asked politely.

"Very good, indeed. Lemon drop?"

"Yes, thanks," Bill replied, taking the proffered lemon drop. Bill had developed a fancy for this Muggle sweet, as Dumbledore offered various sweets at many Order meetings. "Now," Bill said, getting down to business, "what is it you need me to do?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Mr. Weasley, the thing I always admired about you was your ability to get to the point quickly. No beating around the proverbial bush for you!" Bill grinned and admitted that this was true. "Now," Dumbledore continued, "I understand that you have worked as a curse-breaker for Gringotts for ten years, after two years of training?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. I do hate to think I may have people and their occupations confused. Just the other day, I could have sworn that Mundungus Fletcher was Assistant to the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, but that was Alma Ballard. Anyway," Dumbledore pulled out a map of a land Bill recognized only vaguely. "I shall need you to go to this land called Coulombe. There is much treasure there, which I expect you are accustomed to. But there is something much more important." Here Dumbledore grew serious. "There is an evil wizard who lives in Culombe. He has not truly made his presence known, but it only a matter of. . . time." He paused, as if to let the word time sink in. "Mr. Weasley, in this land, you will be playing with time. Sometimes it would be best to be as you are now, in your adult form. But you must be prepared to have to go back to your form as a young man. You will still preserve your memories and powers, just in a smaller form. You must defeat this wizard. It will be difficult. But he knows things. . . things that could lead us to Voldemort."

Bill swallowed. This mission didn't sound a lot harder than some of his assignments at Gringotts, but Dumbledore's voice and the seriousness unnerved him. Nevertheless, he could do it; and challenges were always welcome. "I accept."

"Good." Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "I have feeling that you will enjoy this mission, as you have chosen to accept it."

Bill smiled and stood up.

"Now, Mr. Weasley, I have a personal request."

"Yes?"

"Would you play me in a game of chess?" Dumbledore asked, pulling out a set from his desk. "I've heard you are quite the player."

Bill hesitated, but then saw the gleam in Dumbledore's eye. "Are you sure you can stand to be beaten?" Bill challenged.

"The question is, can you?" Dumbledore replied cheerfully.

~

Three hours later, as Bill left Dumbledore's office in a close defeat, he mulled over the game, trying to remember all the checkmate possibilities, retracing the entire game. He had enjoyed the challenge, and he was sure he would enjoy this mission for the Order. Bill was quite tired of the desk job, and longed to get out in the sun and put his knowledge to work. He had two days to get everything packed up and say goodbye to his friends and family. His family. Bill groaned. Mum is sure to pitch a fit. Bill tried to focus his attention elsewhere as he walked out of the Hogwarts gate, and walked a bit further out to make sure he wouldn't get splinched when he Apparated. Dumbledore had reminded him of the no-Apparating-or-Disapparating-on-Hogwarts-grounds rule as he left, also telling him to expect an owl with further instructions tonight. Bill paused in the middle of the field, and Disapparated. . .

. . . And Apparated right in the middle of the living room, precisely where his mother was in the process of setting the dust rags to dusting. "Sorry, Mum," he said apologetically. "Hey, I've got something to tell you."

"Oh yes? Like what, dear?" Molly asked with pretended unawareness. Bill knew she was hoping against hope that he was going to announce his intention to ask Fleur to marry him. She was probably naming her grandchildren at that precise moment.

"Dumbledore's given me a mission."

"Oh. Well, that is good news, I suppose. More mapping?"

"No," Bill replied, wondering how to tell her the news. "You see, well, the thing is. . ."

"Yes?" Molly asked suspiciously. Her eyes narrowed. "He's going to send you away from me, isn't he?"

"Erm. Yes."

"WHAT!" Mum exploded. "Sending my baby away from his mummy and off on some tom-fool mission, risking his life--"

"For the Order, Mum!" Bill shouted over her. "Mum, I wanted to take the job, you know how I hate desk work. I finally get to hunt treasure and fight monsters again. Curse work, Mum, you know how I loved my job in Egypt!"

Molly was hyperventilating, but at least she wasn't shouting. "Mum," Bill continued in a placating voice, "Mum, please let me have a good two days before I have to leave for the mission. How about. . . how about you get Charlie and the twins to come round for a goodbye dinner? And you can plan it, and I'll help you clean the house. Please?" Bill resorted to his old tactics and gave her his wide puppy eyes. "Please?" he repeated.

"Well. . ." Molly said tearfully. "I suppose. Oh, Bill, you will be careful, won't you?"

"Mum, I don't want to die any more than you want me to," Bill said patiently.

"And you will write as often as you can?"

"Yes, Mum."

"And be extra, extra careful?"

"Yes, Mum."

"And let me cut your hair?"

"No, Mum."

Molly sighed. "At least promise you'll eat decent meals now and again," she said, sounding more like her normal self.

"Of course I will."

"Good. Now go get packing. I suppose you'll have to spend all day tomorrow filling out paperwork and some such things," Molly said briskly. "Now when do you have to leave?"

"Um, the morning after tomorrow. Dumbledore is going to notify me tonight, I think."

"Hmmph. I shall write to Charlie, and stick my head in the fire for the twins."

"What about Percy?" Bill asked before he could stop himself.

Molly stopped dead. "Do you want him here?"

"No. Sorry, Mum, I. . . I forgot." Bill could have kicked himself. His momentary lapse in memory would cause his mother a whole day of sadness and anger.

"It's all right, dear. Sometimes I do, too," Molly said softly, leaving the room.

Bill bit his tongue so as not to swear. It was really a disgusting habit, and Fleur hated it, so he was trying desperately to stop. Of course, that did not prevent him from thinking the words, but not saying them was an improvement, he supposed. He walked up to the second story, and began to pack only the most necessary items. He took his Rune dictionaries, his best Dark Magic Scanner, and a change of clothes in case his favorite outfit got dirty or ruined and he didn't have time to repair it. There was still plenty of room in his rucksack, but he supposed Dumbledore would tell him what else he could pack. He decided to wash his clothes. Well, more accurately, to let his mother wash his clothes. Bill crept downstairs like a guilty teenager, even though he was twenty-nine years old, nearly thirty. "Mum?" he said softly, in case she was crying.

"Yes, dear? I've just sent off the letter to Charlie," she said briskly. "Do you need your clothes washed?" she asked, noting the pile of clothes in Bill's arms.

Bill nodded. "Unless you have other things to do. If it's not too much trouble."

"Not at all. Why don't you call Fred and George? Tell them to come to dinner tomorrow at six o'clock."

"Sure thing." Bill ambled over to fireplace. "Hey, Mum, actually, I think I'll Floo over there. I want to see how business is doing."

"All right, dear!"

Bill threw in some Floo powder and stepped in, shouting, "Weasley's Wizard's Wheezes!"

After a minute, he stepped out into the back room of the shop. "Hey, Fred!" he heard George yell. "I'll bring out some more fireworks as well!" He stepped inside. "Oh, hello there Bill. What brings you here?"

"Well-"

"No time for chitchat, m'lad, bring out some of those boxes," George interrupted, pointing at some boxes labeled Snackboxes as he picked up two boxes of fireworks. He carried it out into the store, signaling for Bill to follow. Bill obliged, and was met with a monsoon of children.

"Good Lord!" he muttered, nearly stepping on a boy who looked about eight.

"Set 'em out over here!" George called.

"Excuse me, miss, sorry about that," Bill apologised hurriedly, trying not to trample children or adults.

"FIVE MINUTES UNTIL WE CLOSE FOR LUNCH!" Fred shouted over the roar.

Five hectic minutes later, Fred, George and Bill were ushering the last child out, assuring him that they would indeed be back in an hour. The three of them sighed, and sat down in various places. Bill sat on the floor, leaning against the door, Fred sat on the counter, and George sat on a box. "Now, what are you doing here?" Fred asked Bill blankly, having just noticed him.

"Huh? Oh! Oh, yes, morning after tomorrow I'm leaving to go on a mission from Dumbledore, and Mum wants to have a goodbye supper."

"Mission, eh? Cool. Where are you going?"

Bill hesitated. "I'm not sure if I am allowed to tell or not."

"Ahhhh," George said understandingly. "One of those 'classified information' things. Like in Muggle America, when the government wants to keep secrets."

Bill rolled his eyes. "Your deep understanding of America astounds me."

"Yes," George said wisely. "I know."

"Anyway," Fred cut in. "When do we need to be there?"

"America?" Bill asked, bewildered.

"No, genius," Fred said, rolling his eyes. "The Burrow."

"Oh. At six."

"Aren't you supposed to be the smart one?" Fred taunted.

"Shut up!" Bill yelled and then the three of them got into a wrestling match. Sadly, no matter how strong or tough you may be, two against one is hardly a fair match. In short, Bill lost his valiant fight.

~

Later that night, after Bill had gotten to The Burrow and gotten his clothes packed, Dumbledore's owl, and brown, tawny male, flew in. "Hello there, Anraoi," Bill said softly, giving him some owl treats. It was late, and he didn't want the owl to start hooting. He unfolded Dumbledore's letter.

Dear Mr. W.,

Thank you again for volunteering for this job. I have worked everything out with Gringotts Wizarding Bank. Go in tomorrow as normal, and when you have finished your usual tasks, ask the goblin to your right for Wyvern. He will ask you about the mountains of Eastern Europe and you will say "Aren't those near the Gargouilles?" The goblin will then tell you to follow him to a map, and there you will receive further instruction. Be sure to pack a rune dictionary, a Latin dictionary if you are not fluent, a dagger, and a bow and arrow if you have one. If you do not have a bow and arrow, that is fine, as you will have opportunities to buy a set in Culombe. Also, bring plenty of money, and when you follow the goblin to the map, be sure to get the gold changed into mammon, for that is the currency in Culombe. That is all you will need, as well as your wand.

W.B.

"W.B.?" Bill puzzled. Then his face cleared. "Ah, of course. Code." He took out his quill and parchment.

Dear Monsieur Bumblebee,

Message received. Is classified information necessary around one's family?

Kamaitachi

Bill grinned at his clever use of mythology and Latin as he sent the letter back. He wondered if Dumbledore would catch the obscure Japanese mythological creature. Before he could think about it much, Charlie's owl, Ladon, flew in.

Bill,

So I hear you are abandoning the family yet again. Have you no shame? Mum is fit to be tied. But I shall be in to see you off, am leaving tomorrow morning at dawn. Hey, send Ladon to Mum after you get this, will you? I sent her a separate reply.

So what about all this Symbol of Aeternitas stuff, eh? Honestly, I am learning more Latin and mythology by just joining this group than I ever did in Hogwarts or dragon camp. Let us hope that the DE's are not quite as proficient. If you can, tell me what's up when I arrive tomorrow.

Charlie the Dragon King

Bill rolled his eyes. He'd once heard and rather fancied the phrase, "Delusions of grandeur." That was very applicable to Charlie. Bill sent the owl down to his parents' room, and got ready for bed. After his shower, he got dressed for bed and just as he was about to fall asleep, he heard a pecking at his window. Groaning, he sat up and shuffled over to the window. It was Anraoi, Dumbledore's owl. Surprised at having received a reply so soon, Bill opened the window and got the letter without paying or rewarding the owl.

Dear Mr. Kamaitachi,

Clever.

You may reveal your mission to your family, but none other. They may not talk about it to anyone outside the immediate family.

Bumblebee

Bill frowned. Fleur would not be happy being left in the dark. He sighed. Best leave that until tomorrow.

~

Bill Weasley woke up quite early. He got dressed quietly and crept downstairs and ate a quick breakfast. Apparating to Diagon Alley, Bill adjusted his robes and bumped into Fleur. "Uh-Fleur!" Bill said weakly.

"Bill!" Fleur exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. Bill grinned stupidly. "'Ow 'ave you been? I 'ave not seen you in so very long."

"I know, dearest, I just. . . erm, I've got something to tell you." Fleur stopped smiling. Oh crap. "Erm, it's nothing really bad. That is, it depends on how you look at it." Fleur got the same look on her face as his mother when she expected him. . . to. . . propose. Bill wanted to swear so very badly. "Well, the thing is," Bill began, "you've always known that I'm in the Order of the Phoenix," he said quietly, lest someone overheard. Fleur nodded seriously. "Yes, yes, and you know I support you in zat, and I plan to become a member soon myself."

"Right. Well, um, hey, your English has improved a lot." Bill grinned. Then shook his head to clear it. "But that is not the point. Right. Well, the thing is,"

"I accept!"

"What?"

"I know you are trying to propose, you silly boy!" Fleur exclaimed girlishly.

"Well, no, actually, um, surprisingly," Bill floundered.

Fleur's face turned almost to stone. Bill gulped. "What."

"No, no, you are, um, misunderstanding me."

"Am I?" she said coldly.

"Erm, yes. You see, I am interested in you, and would be, em, interested in marriage, but I have something I want to do first." Fleur raised an eyebrow. "Nothing, you know, bad. Well, it might be bad. But I'd like it! I--I mean. . . Dumbledore's sending me on a mission!" Bill finally blurted out.

Fleur's face cleared. "Oh. Well, why didn't you just say so?"

"I wasn't sure how to tell you."

"Zat should not be a problem," Fleur reminded him. They held hands and ambled toward Gringotts.

"Yeah, I know."

"So, where are you going?" Fleur inquired.

Bill winced. "I, well, I can't tell you. I wish I could, but Dumbledore forbade it."

Fleur did not look happy. "I see."

"Fleur, if I could tell you, I would in an instant. I. . . well, you know," Bill trailed off, ears reddening.

"What?" she asked, suddenly all peaches and cream again.

"I, erm. . . well, you are a very special person to me," Bill muttered. "And I enjoy being around you."

"Do you?"

Bill's reply was cut off by the goblins demanding their ID. Somewhat relieved, Bill handed it over, and turned to Fleur and said, "We'll talk more during lunch, all right?"

"Very well," she replied, distracted with finding her ID.

Bill breathed again and ambled away to his desk. He rustled through his papers, until he found some paperwork to occupy his time. The one thing he absolutely hated about working a desk job (other than the job itself) was that his boss told him either his hair went or the earring. He decided to take the earring out, since he could always put it back in as soon as he left the building.

After he finished his loan approval papers, Bill turned to his right, and glanced at the goblin who was working. He coughed. The goblin did not look up. "Say, Erlking," Bill said casually. "Where is Wyvern?"

"In Eastern Europe, foolish boy. Do you know nothing?" Erlking snapped.

"Sorry." Silence. "Isn't that near the Gargouilles?"

"Don't be an idiot! Come back here, to the map," the goblin growled, signaling for Bill to follow him. Getting that excited, jittery feeling in his stomach, Bill got up and followed. Being about six foot two, Bill was twice as tall as this particular goblin, which made for a humorous picture. A couple of the few human workers stifled laughs as they walked by, Bill rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

Soon they came upon the large map near the back of the bank. Next to it was a large door. The goblin signaled Bill to go in the door. "Thanks for your help," Bill said, nodding his head respectfully as he opened the door. Once inside, he gasped in surprise.