Golden Girl; 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓦𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓵𝓮𝔂

Summer 1993: Denial is a River

The end of August was drawing near, and the days, while shortening, still held onto the blazing heat of the desert sun. A warm golden glow washed over the bustling streets of Heka's Haven, where vibrant stalls and the laughter of children filled the air outside. At the Soliman's home, an excitement hung in the air as everyone gathered, eager for what lay ahead.

"Are you all ready for the journey over?" Dr. Soliman asked, adjusting her colourful scarf, the fabric fluttering slightly in the warm breeze drifting in through the window.

"Wafaa El-Nil is quite a joyous celebration. Lots of history to be told along the Nile. I promise you'll find it absolutely fascinating." Mr. Soliman added with a smile, looking pleased as his gaze met Mr. Weasley's.

Mr. Weasley looked like he was absolutely glowing, more so than the red sunburn that now made his face almost as bright as his hair. "How fascinating indeed. I've never been to a muggle festival before."

"What are we celebrating?" Ron asked, trailing behind the group as they all filed out through the back entrance into Heka's Haven behind their home.

Dr. Soliman turned, a piece of her dark hair catching in the breeze. "Wafaa El-Nil is a celebration of the Nile, the lifeblood of Egypt," she explained, her tone warm. "In ancient times, we relied on the river to grow crops and track the seasons through the rising and receding of waters. These floods were essential, as they brought fertility to the land. The festival marks the gratitude people feel toward the river, and even though the floods no longer happen, we still honour the Nile and its history."

"Fascinating!" Mr. Weasley said again, his blue eyes wide, and the camera on his neck swinging side to side as they walked.

"You know," Mr. Soliman added, leading them down the busy street where children were running about with colourful ribbons, "the festival also marks the start of a new year on the ancient Egyptian calendar—Akhet, the season of inundation. Today, though, we celebrate with boat races, music, art, and dance." He paused, nodding toward a small shop. "Here, I believe they've set up a Portkey for faster travel to the river."

They turned into the shop, which was crowded with other wizards, all attempting to blend in with Muggle attire. Some were more successful than others. A few wore oversized baseball caps, while others sported mismatched combinations of neon shirts and plaid trousers.

Fred nudged George with a grin, "I think we could win a boat race."

Bambi smiled, catching the twins' mischievous glances. "You two? On a boat? I give you five minutes before you capsize."

"And it is a muggle celebration, so that means no cheating." Bill added, plopping his hands down on his brother's heads.

Fred and George shoved his hand off, shaking their heads with mock annoyance.

"NEXT GROUP, COME ON UP," The wizard manning the portkey called, his voice hardly reaching over the conversation in the crowded shop.

Bambi turned just in time to see six tiny old men hobble forward. They seemed to be the most out of place in the store, with them all wearing different-coloured velvet tracksuits, with the word " Juicy" embellished in glittering rhinestones across their backsides. Bambi blinked, unsure whether they actually thought they were going to blend in that way, or if perhaps they were just very eccentric old men.

"BACK UP, EVERYONE. SIX PACES BACK UNLESS YOU WANT TO– MA'AM KEEP YOUR SON BACK,"

Bambi watched as they all took hold of the Portkey, a brass lamp that looked far too old and delicate for the number of hands reaching out to touch it. The first old man grabbed hold of the lamp, and the others followed suit, their gnarled fingers wrapping around the metal. In an instant, they were spinning, their vibrant outfits blurring into a whirl of colour. For a brief moment, the shop filled with the sound of rustling fabric, before they vanished, leaving the spot where they had stood empty.