Who: Charlie Weasley & Jesse Wyrzykowski What: Charlie has some questions for HR When: Monday 8 April, late afternoon Where: HR Office Warnings: References to other people's adult activities
Charlie had lived in a bunkhouse before, for years, in fact, in Romania. It hadn't been a problem. And it really wasn't a problem now. Except--he was old and mildly grumpy and he'd rather sleep in the rain than deal with excitable kids and the scents of testosterone and other people's spunk wafting through the bunkhouse right now. He understood that it wasn't the first of May yet so outdoor sex was supposed to be off the menu, but between some of the arguments and other things that were going on, Charlie had come to the conclusion that it would be better for him and Mircea if they got the tent someone else had already mentioned to him and found a quiet place to sleep.
One with no randy teenagers or twenty-somethings in it.
He probably ought to have made an appointment but his feet had carried him to the HR office, with some help from Mircea. Charlie could only take it as a sign that Mircea was as tired of it as he was. He rapped smartly on Jesse's door and called out, "Hullo! It's Charlie Weasley and I've got a few questions--nothing that can't wait if you're busy in there." Mircea barked to announce that he, too, had come for a visit.
"Mondays are always busy, but you're a change of pace. Probably," Jesse said, rubbing his forehead. Charlie Weasley, at least, was most likely not going around punching people at his age. Or if he was, that was a very polite introduction to the subject, and the sign that he was handling it with such stereotypical English modesty was a good sign that he wanted to reward after the mess that was this morning. Even lunch from Delilah's hadn't made up for it.
Well, it had helped.
"Come on in, what can I do for you?"
Charlie did come in, and Mircea, perhaps sensing that Jesse, too, was having a rough time, presented himself for inspection and affection. "Erm, I reckon you're a bit busy but I find myself in need of some assistance and some advice."
He shut the door behind him, but didn't sit, as he hadn't been offered the chair. "The big thing is--I like the bunkhouse all right, but--I'm not as young as I used to be and--I know we were all randy young folk once, or most of us were, but--" he grimaced, "--I think I'd like a bit more privacy than I've currently got. Somewhere with less to listen to, if you get my drift. And there was some talk about tents, so I wanted to talk to you about that. Where to get one and where to pitch it. I can fancy it up on my own."
Jesse snorted. Not too polite to get to the point, then. Good. He could use a little honest complaining from someone who'd won the right through living a reasonable amount of time. "You have my sympathy. The bunkhouse used to be more varied when I moved here, but it didn't used to have rooms, either, so privacy was a little more prized. By most," he added. It had been the 70s, of course.
He'd camped a lot in those days. They all had -- it was the only way to be sure of privacy unless you were dating someone in town, and he hadn't been, not yet. So you'd just grab a tent and a friend and head out for a few days and as long as you made it in to work, no one cared much. It wasn't a bad life while you were young, but God, they must've been annoying to all the old folks.
"Let's see," he mused, petting Mircea absently. "Crespo should still have a bunch of tents -- that's Venetia Crespo, she's in Facilities -- but I haven't used them myself in years so I don't know what kind of shape they're in. Good place to start, though. If she doesn't have the right one for you, she'll know where to find it."
Charlie nodded, a satisfied smile blooming on his face. "I mean I don't want to criticise and complain when I was the same when I was their age. Though with less punching people in the nose." The tilt of his head and the arc of his grin had turned from satisfied to ruefully amused; clearly he'd heard about the morning's troubles. "I just want to be a little further from it all, is all.
"And I do have another question, not about anything wrong but more of an 'I'm not an American and I want to know something so I don't put my foot in my mouth' kind of thing. Call it advance planning," he added, clearly ready to mollify Jesse, who'd had enough of a bad day already.
Jesse's look of exasperation (at the reminder, like he needed it, of the morning's "altercation") turned to wary surprise. He'd assumed that Charlie didn't sit because he wouldn't be long, but this was starting not to sound like a quick pop-and-go.
"Punching's uncommon even here in the wilds of cowboy land," he said slowly, making a vague motion toward a chair that Charlie could ignore if he chose. "If it's about that. Don't let anyone convince you that's how we say howdy, anymore than New Yorkers flipping the bird."
Having been offered a seat, Charlie took it with an amused snort at Jesse's comment, saying, "I'm relieved to hear it's just springtime in action. My question's a bit more--well, I reckon 'nuanced' might be the right word. So, when I ask this, please remember I'm not intending it as an insult about Americans, I'm just curious and don't want to offend. In Britain, we don't have a lot of religious wizards, certainly not Christian ones. We don't really have church support available at Hogwarts, or didn't anyroad, and pretty much all of us go there, so that's your whole adolescence spent without going to church most of the year. I mean we celebrate Christmas and that sort of thing, but because of the Statute of Secrecy and the way we're often segregated from our Muggle--non-magical--neighbours, church is just not a thing in wizarding Britain. But I've noticed a number of people who are involved in churches or praying or whatever here being very open about it. Is that normal in wizarding America?"
Jesse's eyebrows went way up, and he leaned back, chewing his lip over the question as he considered the ceiling. "Could be. Depends on the area," he said, running through the employee roster for likely offenders. "The southern territories, sure. Deseret, definitely. It follows nomaj lines for the most part, from what I recall, apart from a few exceptions, and they had the whole--" waving his hand, "--in God we trust thing. But most of people I've known are just Christmas and Easter attending. There's no church in Snowcap, you may have noticed."
He leaned forward again, hands clasped on his desk, eyeing Charlie. "How open is 'very open'? Can you give an example?"
Not having Mircea to scratch, Charlie scratched his own head instead. "I think Ruby's from Deseret, and I got from what she said that she's muggleborn--no-maj family. And she was talking about going to conference at her church on her--whatever the thing with photos is, on the phone. And at home that would be kind of, well, close to breaking the Statute depending on how you did it.
"And I've had a chance to talk to Will, who's a really great kid--he and Ruby both are--and I get the feeling he grew up in an isolated community and isn't quite sure how to handle himself outside that yet. And it sounds like there are also some questionable secrecy issues there, but also that's been worked out by your government. It's over my head either way."
Realising abruptly what Jesse might be worried about, he quickly added, "It's not like either of them tried to recruit me, or anything. I want to make sure I don't put my foot in it with them, not the other way round."
"Good," Jesse said, smiling faintly. He didn't bother saying that Will was in no place to recruit anyone at the moment. That was the kid's business to tell people about. Ruby was slightly more likely, since she was still a member in good standing, and everyone (or just about everyone) knew how Mormons liked to preach. But he hadn't heard any complaints yet.
"You caught a couple of the stronger examples," he did say as he reached back down to scratch the dog's ears. "There's a few others of varying degrees -- we have our share. Now, the statute's not really my job to deal with so much, and I'm not sure what could jeopardize it there. But I'm curious what you think you'd do that would put your foot in it."
"Say something rude and offensive because I'm an ignorant berk? Swear inappropriately? I mean, I expect talking about Merlin's saggy y-fronts isn't appropriate in front of the young folks anyroad, not unless I'm really giving someone a dressing-down, but I have no idea whether the religious aspect makes that more offensive.
"It's clear the secrecy rules work very differently in America--and differently to how things were in Romania as well, because our support community wasn't mixed, and while there were definitely religious wizards there it wasn't any religion I expect to see much of here--and it took me a while to get the hang of all that in Romania. Parts of it I still don't get but that's mystery cults for you.
"I don't expect to figure everything out immediately and I'm inclined to listen rather than talk, for all that I feel like I ought to say something to poor Will, but--" Charlie spread his hands "--I'm the foreigner here and I'd like to be a good guest, and I'm not sure what I'm seeing, so I'd rather ask you than, say, Ruby or Will. Though both of them seem helpful and unlikely to take offence."
"They're good kids," Jesse agreed. "From what I know. Here's the thing: I'm not gonna tell you you're overthinking this because that's way better than not thinking at all as far as I'm concerned. But it sounds like you already have a pretty good handle on the two of them, good enough to start with. And they're different, but not really special. If you practice basic standards of manners and professionalism -- low on the vulgarity, no off color jokes or discrimination -- you'll be fine nine times out of ten." He shrugged. "We can't always account for that tenth time. Awkwardness can happen with anyone, we just correct course once it does. But if 'Merlin's saggy y-fronts' is as wild as you get, you'll be the least of my worries. That's pretty tame, and they probably won't even know what that means. I'm not 100% I do myself, though I think I can guess. But -- no offense here -- English swearing doesn't always sound like real words to us anyway." And 75% of the girls would probably fall in love over the accent despite his age, and wouldn't care what Charlie was saying.
"If something comes up later I'm happy to guide, of course. Door's always open unless--" Jesse waved at the door, which was obviously shut now.
"I've got to ask, though: when you say you feel like you should say something to Will, what do you mean?"
Charlie scrubbed his hand through his hair again. "It sounds like he got kicked out of his home community for thinking something wrong and I have no idea what it was, but criminy, he's so young and clearly got a good heart. I can't imagine why they'd make him leave. Jesse, I wasn't in the thick of things back home or any such thing, but--I've seen bad people, and I've seen people get kicked out of families for not conforming, and he's not--I don't know, I just want to respect his beliefs while respecting him, too. D'ye see?"
In the middle of his speech, Mircea had stood up and come over to Charlie, dropping his head on Charlie's knee. Charlie buried his hands in Mircea's fur and fisted them, which seemed to relieve a little of the pressure.
"I think so," Jesse said. It was mixed up in war stuff, of course. He'd done some reading about that over the years -- the English wizarding war, not psychology -- and it was natural enough, you couldn't expect something like that to not hang on in some way.
Unfortunately that meant it was really two difficult subjects all rolled up together. At least good motives were the issue here.
"I'm gonna reiterate that you still don't have to talk about religion if you don't want to," he said after another moment. He held up a hand. "I know, that's not the point. But I'm saying it anyway first of all, and not only because it's a time-honored method that, honestly, most of us around here use. But if you do want to… follow his lead. Maybe don't be the one to bring up his people, because if you're kicked out of your home, it can be kind of a painful subject. And this ain't rumspringa. When a Traditionalist leaves, they're usually out for good. So don't push, I'd say, and probably avoid saying his people are bad people, because whether or not you think so and whether or not it's true, he's probably not there yet. That help any?"
Charlie unclenched his fingers enough to give Mircea a few scratches. "Yeah, it does. I mean they don't sound like bad people, certainly not compared to some I've seen. Known. And Will got that good heart somewhere. I know what I'd do if it weren't religion, and obviously the secrecy business about the Traditionalists is new to me, but--I just feel as though someone needs to take the lad in hand and help him. And I'd be a good candidate if I can do it without putting my foot in my mouth up to my knee. Which I have been known to do," he told Jesse ruefully.
Jesse shrugged. "Haven't we all? But you've got a good heart too, that's clear enough. So that's a good start, and should take you far."