Author's Note: Okay, so this story focuses on one of my favorite characters, whom I feel is very poorly represented. Bill Weasley is cool, he wears dragon hide pants, and he's got long hair. What's not to love? So we will delve into his life after his brother Ron's fourth year at Hogwarts. Voldemorte has returned, and Dumbledore is doing everything he can to make sure that the Wizard world is equipped to deal with this renewed threat. And, of course, we will see Bill in leather… Please, please, please let me know what you think, what you like, what you despise, and what you would like to see happen. Reviewing makes for good karma.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter, all books, characters, etc. obviously belong to the resplendent J.K. Rowling. I'm just playing with them a bit…I promise to be good…ignore the crossed fingers…
Rating: PG for now. We'll see where it wants to go later
Do What You Have to Do
Part One
By Cassiope
Jesus Christ, it's hot. Well, after all, it is the middle of July and smack dab in the worst heat wave that England has seen this century. And here is poor little me unable to use a cooling spell, or even a muggle air conditioner. I'm used to heat. Spend a few summers in Egyptian deserts and you tend to build up a bit of a resistance. It's this blasted humidity that's getting to me. This damn thick-aired, hair-sticking-to-the-back-of-your-neck, to-heavy-to-open-your-eyes humidity. Oh, this is going to be a very long summer.
"Hey, Bill. Hot, isn't it?" I start as much as is possible on this, I should be asleep under a tree with a nymph fanning me, day. Mark Johnson, a rather tall and very skinny wizard has somehow materialized next to me without my notice. His brown hair is dangling in damp locks over his eyes, and he looks as worn-out as I feel. I shake my head at him and take another drink of my not so cool anymore water from the canteen hanging from my neck. Johnson smiles wearily and glances through the trees toward the clearing where a small number of wizards and witches have begun to gather. He turns back to me saying, "We'd best get a move on then. They are bringing in our assistance now."
I agree and we head over, leaving behind the slight comfort of the forest's shadows. Johnson and I collapse on the dry, crumpled grass, joining the growing congregation. The senior wizard in charge of our little escapade, Artemis Fletcher, stands and holds up his hand for silence. Gaining it, he begins to speak.
"Okay, everyone. I know that this is going to be hard, but as soon as our muggle colleagues join us we need to make sure that all of the obviously magical activity stops. That means no cooling spells, no imps or house-elves, no funny stuff with the tents. We are going to be working very closely with these people, and we do not want to raise any untoward suspicions. Understood?"
A few groans and mutters make an appearance, and a very young wizard, just out of Hogwarts, asks, "Why do we have to work with muggles?" in a decidedly whiny tone.
"Because," Fletcher answers, "This is a time of war and we need more people on our project than the ministry can afford right now. In addition, the Prime Minister of the muggle government has made it clear that he wants to be involved in our defense strategy. He has offered to set up a program that will allow students at a muggle university to work with us, and we are not in a position to refuse his help. All right?" He suddenly looked fixedly towards the north, and the only road in to our location. "Right. Here they come. Everyone ready?" Though we are hot, tired, and not looking forward to finding what we have been sent to search for, we know our duty. Every last one of the gathered witches and wizards stands, takes a brief last moment check to make sure nothing is out of place for our muggle assistants, then turns to meet the large bus that is rumbling towards us. Here we go.
The bus lumbers to a stop in front of us, discharges ten muggles of varying sex, age, and races, then pulls hastily away. We look at them, and they look at us. I hope to God that we will make the cut, because we do desperately need their help. And if I believed in God, I would pray that they passed muster, because this was not going to be an easy mission. Hell, maybe I will pray anyway.
Fletcher clears his throat, then steps forward. "Uh…Welcome to our humble abode…" The muggle imports glance at the short line of tents behind him, and the first in the row, a young woman with short red hair, gives a soft laugh. This single laugh somehow manages to worm its way through all of the tension that has building up, and the rest of us allow a laugh too. Fletcher smiles, and pushes his hair out of the way, then boldly walks up to the young woman and hold out his hand. "I'm Art Fletcher. Project leader. We're very glad you are all here to help us." The woman gives him a quick smile in return. Her smile lights her whole face and her eyes shine with it. Hmmm…maybe this summer won't be so bad after all…
"I'm Isobel Harnett. Grad student at Cambridge. We're all very glad to be here. I can tell already that this is going to be quite an experience." Her smile broadens as Fletcher starts at her accent.
"Why…You're American!" Apparently he didn't get to many details about the students involved in the program. Harnett shrugs, "Yup. Sorry about that. I can assure you that the rest of my colleagues are properly British." A bit of the devil has snuck into her smile. "Let me introduce them. This is Josh Darcy, Mara Lawson, Greg Manchester, Jack Prewitt, Anna Smith, Cary Mickleson, Pierce Buchanan, Lucas West, and Chloe d'Aragon." The rest of the small troop flashed brief waves and smiles at us, Jack Prewitt causing the second laugh in this confrontation by sweeping off an imaginary hat and bending into a low bow. Maybe, just maybe this will work.
Fletcher shakes hands with each in turn, then begins to introduce our little crew. I became so engaged in watching the way that Harnett carefully inspected each person, as though she was committing every aspect to memory, that I jumped slightly when I heard my name being announced, and those hazel eyes turned their direct stare onto me. I stand up clumsily, smile, and nod at each of them. Good Grief. I haven't been clumsy since I finished my last growth spurt. It's a relief when those eyes, and the quirked smile, leave my face and turn to "Alissa Morris".
When the introduction have finally been completed, Fletcher invites them all to sit down with us so that he can hand out assignments, then we can eat. The heat has let up a bit, retreating with the sun. My stomach grumbles and I decide that food would be a very good idea. If any of us can figure out how to cook it on that…campfire?
I scoot over to make room for Lucas West, who shoots me a grateful smile, then turn my attention back to Fletcher. He is looking at his list and mumbling to Alissa Morris. Finally he looks up, and says, "Right. As you know, we are doing an archaeological study on some old ruins in the forest. We are looking for an underground tunnel that might have ancient artifacts. We need you," he nods at the grad students, "to record our observations, help us with the excavation, and keep an eye out for that tunnel. But be careful, because we are not quite certain of what exactly we will find in here. That is why Bill Weasley," here he glances at me, "will enter the ruin first, and make sure that there are no unfortunate booby traps. Then we will split up into teams, and each team will work on a designated section. So, after Bill has okayed the entrance, and a few of the passages, Darcy, Lawson, and Manchester, you will go in with Alissa here, Prewitt, and Smith, you will be with Mark Johnson, Mickleson, and Buchanan will work with Arthur Figg, West, and d'Aragon you will be assisting Lars Parson, and Ms. Harnett, you will accompany our Bill on his assignment. That sound all right?"
Everyone nodded. It certainly sounds fine to me. Yeah, actually this summer was beginning to have some potential… "Right, then." Fletcher waved towards the campfire, "Let's eat!"