The twins rejoined their family downstairs, George carefully considering each step because of his malfunctioning Fred-legs. And it didn't help his confidence to see a thin fog of sand and dust trailing up the treacherously twisting staircase. Below them, Percy was standing at the mirror over the kitchen mantelpiece, muttering about the condition of his oversized clothes, when he earned a rare response from the enchanted glass.

"I think the word you are looking for is SLOVENLY," it declared with disdain.

George shook his head. "One day that thing's gonna shatter itself..."

"...just to get free of him," said Fred, finishing his brother's sentence. That had been happening more often, as their minds continued to pass thoughts back and forth like a Bludger careening down the pitch.

Percy ran a comb through his thatch of red hair then struggled to fit the comb back into his breast pocket. Looking down, he understood the problem. It was full of sand. When he attempted to dump the sand out onto the floor, the pocket tore free from his shirt.

"I'm a monstrosity..." he said, staring down miserably at the worn flap of fabric.

"There, there," Fred consoled. "I'm sure someone will come to look past all your... glaringly obvious defects." He patted Percy on the back and gestured unsympathetically toward the front window. "Somewhere — thereabouts —"

"Leave him be," said Mr. Weasley from his easy chair. He unfolded the newspaper and gave it a good shake. Sand fell onto his lap in piles. Arthur turned to the next page before the sand trickled to the floor and climbed the staircase, as if this were an everyday occurrence at the Burrow.

The twins heard Bill whispering from the kitchen, coming to the end of a story.

"...and seven days later, the chamber door released. There was no more sickness and we were able to enter with our wands. Job done."

"Remarkable, the adventures you've already been on," said Molly, smiling brightly. Without taking her eyes off Bill, she straightened Ron's chair so he was facing the table. He hunched forward, a ratty old quill clutched in his hand.

"I'm being safe. I promise."

"I know you are, dear."

Mrs. Weasley kissed Bill's cheek and held his face in her hands, taking one down only to turn Ron's head back to the nearly blank parchment. He'd been caught teasing Fred and George's Venus plant, which was being used as a centerpiece.

"Are there eyes in the back of your head, woman?" Ron barked, as he wrestled his featherless quill back from the plant's mouth.

"Yes. Many," she replied with certitude.

"It's our fault, Ron," said Fred. "Something we put in the stew a few years back."

"Nothing like what happened to him, though," said George. "I'm sure you were too young to remember, but your entire forehead was covered with eyes. You were practically a spider."

Ron gulped, going pale.

"Stop pestering him," Charlie urged from the table. "You know how afraid he is of spiders."

He's not the only one, George thought suddenly.

Fred saw a flash coming from George's mind of a gigantic, snow-covered spider crawling at him from between the taller trees of the forbidden forest.

Molly, who was still smiling at Bill, her expression serene, started to clear her throat again. Her smile lowered and she looked closer at her son's face.

"Merlin's teeth. Am I losing my sanity... or have your freckles...?"

"Hidden," Bill admitted in an undertone. "That's not all, actually."

He took off his sandy leather cap. Mrs. Weasley inhaled sharply.

"Your hair! Bill, it's — it's black."

"Merely a charm. It does me well to blend in with the Muggles on the excavation team."

Molly's hands moved to her hips, which told them all what she was thinking before she uttered a word. "In what century was it decided that it's not permissible for Curse Breakers to have red hair and freckles?!"

"Take it up with the Goblins."

"That's utterly absurd! Arthur!"

"Yes, dear?"

"Are you listening to this?"

"Of course, dear," Mr. Weasley said absently, his head in the newspaper. "Sounds sublime."

"Ugh!" Mrs. Weasley shut her eyes tightly. The silence that followed was long enough that Charlie decided to intervene.

"Sheppy handling himself well?"

"Oh, yes. Isn't Shep Quarter also working in Egypt for Gringott's?" asked Percy.

Bill nodded, but before he could get out a response, his mother chimed in.

"Am I to assume there only men working at this tomb of yours? Are goblins disinclined toward hiring women? I could've been a Curse-Breaker," she said, puffing a strand of curly hair away from her eyes. "You need to find yourself a nice girl."

"Molly, don't rush the boy," said Arthur.

"Listening now, are we?"

"Huh?"

"I'm only turning twenty," said Bill reassuringly. "I have time."

"Hmm. I hope you're willing to show her your natural appearance," said Molly with reproachful eyes. "You don't see your father changing his hair color."

Charlie laughed. "He hardly has any hair, Mum."

"Well, what he has is red... at least for a few more years. It makes you a Weasley."

Sighing, Bill tapped his wand to the side of his head. A deep orange hue spread across his dark hair as if each long, wavy follicle was absorbing his Weasley-ness like a sponge.

"There we are. Better?"

"Much," Mrs. Weasley breathed.

"Good." Bill reached into his pocket, sending more sand across the rug, and handed his mother a hefty money pouch. "I want you to be happy."

"What's this?"

"Just doing my bit to help pay for expenses round here."

"No, Bill! We can't accept that."

"Oh... yes, we can," Charlie blurted. He propelled himself forward and snatched at the pouch like only a Seeker could.

"Don't take his arm off, son," Arthur murmured.

"I'll do what must be done. Damned if I'm going to leave Hogwarts without a license."

"Still haven't learned how to Apparate?" Bill asked.

"It's pathetic," Charlie grumbled, turning the money pouch over in his hands. "I came of age months ago."

"There's bound to be a book with a good cheat in a shop on that bad alley."

"I believe you're thinking of Knockturn Alley, Ron," said Fred.

"We've been. It's not as bad as you think," said George.

"Shush... the pair of you," Molly chirped. "Why must you always try to corrupt him?"

"He's just so... What's the word, George?"

"Corruptible."

Wearing a peculiar smile, Mr. Weasley turned the page of his Daily Prophet. "It's not the sort of magic one learns on their own, lads."

"But if you can't afford one license for Charlie, what hope do Fred and I have when we turn seventeen?"

Fred gave out a small laugh. Then George followed with a laugh of his own, seeing all of his twin brother's schemes. Ron, who hated to feel left out, fought to smile.

"What are we laughing about?"

Percy looked mortified. "My goodness me, they're going to try it themselves."

"You'd better not!" Molly ordered.

"We already did, in fact," said George casually. "Why do you think there's two of us?"

"George botched it," said Fred. "He splinched me."

"No. You did."

"Charlie's just fine, aren't you, Charlie?" Mrs. Weasley affirmed, doing her best to ignore their nonsense. "It's not as if you have anywhere to go, now, is it?

"In all honesty, I'm the only seventh year who hasn't taken the test," he said, looking defeated. "Even with these coins, they don't start the twelve-week course until after Christmas. That's months from now. I'll be with the sixth years, as well. Bit embarrassing."

"You understand the mechanics of it, I'm sure," said Fred.

"And your mates could teach you," said George.

"There they go again," Percy complained from the mirror, "persuading others to break the rules. Is no one listening? Do none of you care? Our society has laws for a reason."

"I think I could manage to Disapparate in a pinch." Charlie winked at the twins. "Long as I don't get caught.

Fred and George winked back at their Quidditch Captain as their mother released a growl. "And it's a good thing you never tried, young man. You think we're struggling now, do you? If they catch you Apparating illegally —"

"I'll be paying off the fines until I'm Dumbledore's age?"

"At least!"

"We'll see," he said in a hushed voice.

"Travel is the most regulated magic around. It's no lie, Charlie," said Bill in earnest. "The Department of Magical Transportation treats it very seriously. And on that note..."

Bill reached for Griphook's package that had been left on the table and untiled the thin rope. He drew back the paper, far too carefully, and used his wand to make the object stand vertically beside the Venus plant. The twins leaned forward with captivated expressions. It was a statue of a man carved from dull, black stone. Egyptian in style and shorter in height than the flowerpot.