"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking…"
Blah, blah, blah… She could recite this particular spiel from memory in several different languages, Rachel mused as she donned her headphones and opened her dog-eared copy of Lord of the Rings, prepared for ten and a half hours of confinement in a big metal tube… Thank God, she thought, for Tolkien and The Cure…
About half way through The Two Towers, Rachel checked her watch. She was getting hungry, but knew better than to eat airline food…definitely of the Wyrm. It was four a.m., British time, so she only had to make it through another few hours. Rachel's gaze fell upon her book and she noticed a few pieces of paper stuck in at the end. She pulled them out and unfolded them, stifling a laugh as she read the title on the first page: "A Goddamn List." That was cute, and actually quite thoughtful, Rachel realized as she skimmed through the first page. She was sure there was a list of questions later, but so far the list consisted of advice like, 'take time to see the sights, especially in London,' 'dress warmly,' and 'spend some time in the sunlight, you could use a bit of color.' Okay, silly advice, that. Pascale had been to England once when she was a kid and swore up and down that British sunlight actually sucked the pigment out of your skin.
Rachel kept reading. On page two, the list of questions to ask the Headmaster began. She realized, stunned, that it was actually a full two pages of questions. Leah really must be stopped, she thought. But that wasn't all, the first line on the second page of questions was: Please speak to each teacher, if possible, and ask about the required book list, extra credit possibilities, and their grading system. And the rest of the page was a list of subject-specific questions to ask regarding the curriculum.
Rachel shook her head and put the list away. She figured she could just tell Leah that she'd assumed that the last page had been a joke. In all fairness, the idea that she'd ask all these people a long list of questions during their summer vacation really was something of a joke. She doubted they were even at the school during the summer, except for the Headmaster of course, and he was probably only there because of the freaky American chick he had a meeting with. Feeling a bit tired, she decided to nap for the rest of the flight. Stowing her book and laptop, she closed her eyes and slowly drifted off.
The plane had already begun its descent when Rachel woke up, feeling not quite refreshed, but rested enough to last the day. Jet lag, she'd found, was easier to deal with if you just pretended it wasn't there. She figured she'd have to do some damage control when they landed – her hair was probably a bit scary, and she should reapply her makeup. Customs always went more quickly, in Rachel's experience, if you looked your best and made sure to get the young guy… She stretched a little in her seat and prayed for a quick and smooth landing as she glanced out the window.
Ron Weasley was irritated and sleepy. Honestly, it was the summer hols. Why then was he at Heathrow Airport, this early in the morning, waiting for some distant cousin to show up? Dad had said that 'Rachel' wasn't a witch, so she'd be flying in to visit, and was also going to check out Hogwarts for her younger sisters, as they didn't like the American school they were supposed to attend. Must be mental if they were thinking about coming to Hogwarts, what with recent events and all, not that the Ministry was admitting what was going on.
Well, now he was awake, he thought. He'd had been trying to keep his mind off what had happened, but the memories kept flooding back when he least expected them to. He missed Harry and Hermione; it was somehow easier to deal with everything that had happened when they were all together. Alone, he kept drifting back to what Malfoy had said before he'd been hit by multiple hexes…that he and Hermione would be the first to go. Honestly, they'd known Malfoy was an evil little bastard, but that was just… Ron sighed, and tried to take his mind off of it. All in all, he hoped their cousin would get there soon. His dad had a picture of her, and Ron thought he'd probably showed it round, but he hadn't been paying attention, so he just kept an eye out for red hair, assuming it was a safe bet. And he wondered if Dad would ask the poor girl a hundred muggle-related questions before they even got to the car.
A seemingly endless stream of muggles flowed past. The only red hair Ron had seen so far had been disturbingly unnatural, and hadn't been attached to girls. They'd been there for more than a half hour, so where the… Ron's higher brain functions shut down completely as a goddess came into view. Ooooooh…curvy… She was an amazing mix of light and dark, dressed all in black – boots, knit trousers that clung to shapely legs, and a scoop-neck top that showed a hint of cleavage. Ron wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as his eyes managed to drag themselves upward toward her face, which kept getting closer…full lips, a small, perfect nose, delicate cheekbones, large brown, no…maybe hazel…eyes surrounded by long eyelashes, shapely eyebrows and shiny black hair. It was very short in the back, but got longer toward the front, following the line of her jaw and framing her alabaster face. She looked like she hadn't seen the sun in years, or it could simply have been the contrast of her skin against her hair and clothes and the dark burgundy of her lipstick.
Ron was about check and see if Fred and George had also noticed her when his father's voice called out, "Rachel!"
Ron's eyes bugged out. Bugger! She was walking directly toward them, smiling like she had recognized…bugger. The snickering brought him back to reality, and he turned round to see Fred trying to keep a straight face. "What's funny?"
Fred gave him a knowing look and whispered low enough so their dad wouldn't hear, "Didn't look at the picture, did you…"
"…you bloody great pervert…leering at our cousin that way," George continued, looking scandalized.
"Completely disgusting, that is," Fred finished.
Ron's ears turned pink and he opened his mouth to retort, but Fred and George had turned back toward Rachel, who had just reached them…
Rachel's mouth twitched as she saw the look on the youngest kid's – Ron, was it? – face as he realized she was his cousin, as well as the looks on his older brothers' faces who obviously knew who she was. She'd bet money there had been a bit of a conspiracy to embarrass the poor boy. Oh yeah, they'd whispered something to him that made his hands clench and his face turn colors. She'd have to try to put him at ease quickly, and it was good to know early on that she'd need to look out for those two…what were their names again? Well, the names would come to her, hopefully soon, as she'd just reached them.
"Hi, Mr. Weasley. Thanks for coming to meet me," Rachel said as she offered her hand.
"That's just Arthur, now. You're family, there's no need for formalities. It's smashing to finally meet you, Rachel. We were quite excited when we got your mum's owl. Haven't seen her since you were about three years old. Now, this is Fred, George, and Ron. And they'd be happy to help you with your luggage."
Rachel almost laughed. Arthur seemed quite friendly and easy-going. If the whole family was this amiable, she'd no doubt have a very pleasant stay. But she was perfectly capable of schlepping her own suitcases around. "Thanks, but that's not really necessary…"
But before she could stop him, one of the twins snagged the trolley away, and the other one held out his hand. "Hullo, I'm George. That's Fred."
Twit, she thought. Three years spent in a pack with Pascale had made Rachel very difficult to fool. Well, that and the Philodox gift of sensing lies. She shook his hand and smiled. "Hi Fred. Pleasure." Good, she thought, the kid looked impressed, and the younger boy, Ron, had a wide grin on his face. This was definitely going to go well.
Ron was very surprised. He couldn't help but wonder how she had done that. Even Mum still fell for that one sometimes, after all, but Rachel had just stuck her hand out and said 'Hi Fred.' It was just brilliant. And if she'd noticed that he'd been staring at her, Rachel had played it very cool. There was just no word for how relieved he felt about that.
And she was pretty cool, for a girl. For one thing, she didn't mind them talking about Quidditch, and even seemed pretty knowledgeable about it, though she said she didn't have time to go to matches. But she tried to follow an American team, the Fitchburg Finches, and a Japanese team, the Toyohashi Tengu. While he'd heard of both teams, Ron didn't really know anything about either of them, but he'd heard something odd about Japanese teams in general and asked if she knew if it was really true that they set their brooms on fire when they lost. Apparently it was, and she'd agreed with them that it was a waste of good broomsticks.
But something was odd. When Ron tried to ask her what kind of job she had, his Dad had cut him off and asked her a question about muggles. Then it got weirder…
"Muggles?" Rachel asked. The word sounded familiar, like she'd heard it before, but she couldn't remember where.
"Muggles, you know, you must know…non-magic folk," Arthur answered, a confused look on his face.
"Oh, yeah, I've heard them referred to as muggles before, but not for years," Rachel said. She looked like she was trying to remember something. "I remember now. There was a big stink about it being offensive, or something, to call non-magical people a word they hadn't chosen themselves. Idiotic, really. What are you supposed to do, walk up to them and ask what they'd like wizards to call them? Anyway, Magical Affairs knew they couldn't do that, and people were clamoring about prejudice and bigotry toward our non-magical brethren… Actually, a number of people, as I recall, wanted them called that: 'our non-magical brethren.' Can you imagine how long that would take to say?"
By this time, they'd gotten to the car. Ron had totally forgotten that his father had changed the subject, as this was just making his head spin. Prejudice against muggles by calling them muggles? Americans really were crackers.
"Anyway, first the Bureau came up with a proposal to call them 'mundanes,' since 'mundane' is pretty much an antonym for 'magical', but that still pissed people off. They said it implied than non-magical people were boring or something. I forget how long it went on, but finally they decided to call them non-magics and everyone was happy. Well, except for those who are simply uncomfortable with the idea of labeling people anyway. But they're always pissed. So, what did you want to know again?"
The Weasleys were all looking at her, dumbfounded. Arthur finally spoke up. "Umm, later, yes, later. Let's get the car loaded up now and get going."
That was priceless, Rachel thought. They'd looked shocked, to say the least. Well, Americans are a wacky bunch, she mused as she got into the car. But what did he want to know, she wondered. Surely non-magics, or muggles, or whatever weren't much different back home than they were in Britain. But then Rachel remembered; her mother had warned her that in Britain, the magical was almost completely separated from the mundane. That had seemed weird to her. Wizard and mundane cultures were pretty well integrated back home. For example, her parents and most of their friends had telephones, computers, TVs, VCRs, etc., along with all their wizarding conveniences. Rachel had a feeling that the Weasleys didn't have electricity and was suddenly glad that, because it was awakened, her laptop didn't require an outside power source. She just hoped she'd be able to find a place to charge her new mobile phone. If all else failed, though, she could leave it off and turn it on only when she needed to make a call.
Eventually the shocked silence wore off and they all started asking Rachel questions about the United States. They were quite shocked to learn about the integration of wizard and 'muggle' culture. At one point, when the boys were discussing something among themselves, Rachel asked Arthur if his children knew anything about her culture and people. Arthur told her quietly that he hadn't yet had the opportunity to talk to them about it, but that he would speak to them soon. She needn't worry about it, yadda, yadda, yadda. Kind of a relief, really, when she thought about it. Not only did she have a vacation in what was proving to be a beautiful country, she wasn't going to have to answer a million questions for at least a little while.
Arthur had told her a few minutes back that they were getting close to home, and Rachel noticed that it had gotten strangely quiet in the back seat. She turned her head a little to see what was going on, and saw that the boys were all whispering something to each other. They looked like they were pretty deep in a discussion about something they'd rather not be talking about. Rachel turned back around; if it was something they wanted to talk to her about, they'd do it when they were good and ready. Right now, though, they were pulling up to a very odd looking house. A sign out front read 'The Burrow.' Rachel thought it was a good thing that the magical and the mundane were separated in this country. An engineer was likely to have a major heart attack at the sight of the house that obviously relied on magic to remain standing. The car slowed to a stop. It certainly looked like an interesting place to stay.