Dominique Weasley pranced down the cobbled street, swinging a small denim bag in her hand as she skipped and dodged the throng of witches and wizards in their tall pointed hats and long robes, who were perusing the street called Diagon Alley today. Dominique was in a tremendously good mood. Not only was it a cloudless summer day, but she was also staying at her cousin Fred’s for a week (which was enough to put anyone with a sense of humor in a good mood). To top it off, she had just managed to sneak away from her eagle-eyed Aunt Angelina (which many deemed impossible) in order to visit Gringotts and change some of her Galleons into Muggle money. This, above all else, was what was prompting her to skip, because tomorrow Aunt Angelina had to work, and Dominique and her cousin Fred planned to sneak into Muggle London and see a film, one of their favorite pastimes.
People looked curiously at Dominique as she passed them. Her golden hair danced around her shoulders as she skipped, shimmering and sparkling curiously in the July sun. Her blue eyes were obscured by a pair of large purple sunglasses, and in lieu of robes, which she found rather hot and stuffy, her slight figure was clothed in a pair of ratty brown shorts that fell to her knees and a white t-shirt bearing the Hogwarts crest. Her dirty brown feet that carried her so deftly through the streets wore only a battered pair of flip-flops that had once been pink.
Dominique eyed Florean Fortescue’s ice cream parlor wistfully as she passed, ducking under a large cage containing several green chickens that a pair of stout wizards were heaving down the street. However, she reminded herself, she had no time to stop: Aunt Angelina might sort little Roxy’s boils at any moment, and notice her absence. Instead, she darted round a corner and ran up the white marble steps of Gringotts Wizarding Bank.
The dark, quiet reception hall was quite a contrast from the hot, bustling street outside, and Dominique quickly removed her sunglasses, put on her real ones, and blinked several times to adjust her eyes. She looked about at the formidable goblins in their maroon suits and suddenly felt rather underdressed. A bit sheepish now, she sought out a familiar goblin in the rows along the wall (Fred and James always asked, jokingly, how she could tell them apart) and spotted her father’s friend Garnuk, to her immense relief.
“Good morning,” she said politely to the goblin. Her parents both worked at the bank, and since she was very small Dominique had been cautioned to be careful around goblins. She’d been especially careful ever since Uncle Harry told her a story two years ago about the time he broke into Gringotts, the with help of a particularly treacherous goblin.
Garnuk eyed her distastefully. “Miss Weasley. What can I do for you today?”
Dominique reached into her denim bag and pulled out a small handful of Galleons Fred had “borrowed” from the cash register in his Dad’s shop. She pooled them on the counter before the goblin. “I’d like to change these for Muggle money, please.”
The goblin raised his eyebrows at her, looking doubtful, but said nothing except “Very well. Sign here, please.” And reached under the counter for a stack of pound notes.
The next morning found Dominique and Fred strolling gleefully down Charing Cross Road in Muggle London. It was another bright sunny day, and Dominique was wearing the same shorts and flip-flops as the day before, though she had done away with the Hogwarts shirt in favor of a plaid one. She had always favored casual Muggle wear over anything else, something her sister Victoire (a prefect and a stuck-up priss as far as Dominique was concerned) called an absolute insult to fashion.
“Its too bad James couldn’t come”oh, Domi, look!” Fred exclaimed, pointing excitedly at a long black limousine gliding down the street past them. He was a short boy, about Dominique’s height, with curly brown hair and large dark eyes. “I’ve heard of those!”
“Shhh!” said Dominique, as several Muggles looked oddly at him. “Watch it. And yeah, they’re called limos.”
“Aw, you’re no fun,” Fred complained, but he was grinning.
“Whose idea was this?” Dominique retorted, poking him.
“Shut up!”
The two children continued down the road towards the cinema, growing increasingly excited. Dominique had seen her first Muggle film when she was eleven. Her Aunt Hermione, a Muggle-born, had brought Dominique, James, Fred, and her husband, Uncle Ron, after the adults got into a bet about whether the kids would like the form of Muggle entertainment or not. (Aunt Hermione had insisted they would, while Uncle Ron maintained that the whole idea was rubbish.) Dominique and her two favorite cousins had offered to come along as guinea pigs, and been instantly entranced by the film, an animated one about talking fish. Uncle Ron, as he grudgingly cooked dinner that night (and every night that week, as per the bet) had been quite cross with them. Ever since, the three cousins had made it their business to see movies as often as possible. Dominique suspected that she liked films the most of the three of them, and that James and Fred’s favorite part of the excursion was the sneaking out. Still, it was great fun for all involved. And the week of the summer that Dominique spent with Fred every year while her parents vacationed in France was always prime time for such outings.
They had arrived at the theatre, and Dominique threw the doors open, breathing in the blast of cold, popcorn-scented air that met their noses. She approached the ticket counter, Fred hovering somewhere around her shoulder.
“How many?” asked the attendant in a super-bored voice.
“Ummm…” Dominique stared up at the mysterious board above the ticket window, which was flashing the names of films and their show times. “Ma’am, which film should my cousin and I see? Do you have any recommendations?”
The attendant stared at her. “You mean you kids don’t know what you want to see?”
“No,” Dominique said stoutly.
The attendant sighed, looking annoyed. “There’s the movie version of that musical, Wicked. Its about witches from the Wizard of Oz,” she added at Dominique and Fred’s uncomprehending looks.
The two cousins exchanged grins. Muggles singing about witches and wizards in a film? This was something they had to see. “Two for the next showing of that, please,” Dominique said, placing a five-pound note on the counter. She ignored Fred, who was now snickering off to the side. The attendant passed the precious tickets across the counter and Dominique clasped them in her hand, swung her bag jauntily over her shoulder, and gave the attendant a cheeky wave.
‘Oz?” Fred muttered, as they proceeded into the dark, mostly empty theater. “What in Merlin’s name is Oz?’
“I haven’t a clue, but I have a feeling James is going to be bloody sorry he missed this one,” Dominique replied, grinning.
They talked and laughed, teasing one another and roundly abusing James, who had had to miss the outing because his father, the famous Harry Potter, was being awarded some prestigious something and James’s mother, Aunt Ginny, made him attend the ceremony. They took no notice of the dirty seats, or the bits of old popcorn on the floor, or the emptiness of the theater. They didn’t care that most wizards would have found the place despicable, or that they were on no conditions allowed to be there. They didn’t particularly care, either, that their parents were famous. All they cared about was their afternoon of fun, and the words appearing on the screen telling them to please, silence their cell phones. (Dominique, who was starting third year in a few months and taking Muggle studies, intended to find out once and for all what a cell phone actually was). And now the movie was starting, and music was playing, and a voice said “Once upon a time, in Oz…”
The cousins exchanged delighted and amused glances, and settled back into their seats. Dominique positively squirmed with excitement, because in her opinion, above all else, this, was magic.
Meet the Weasleys by dominiqueweasley
Chapter Notes: I heard a rumor about the musical Wicked being made into a film, and thought it would be funny if real wizards saw it... obviously I don't own Wicked or Harry Potter.
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