Bill Weasley
The Dragon-Taming Curse-Breaker with a Fanged Smile
Fanged earring, dragon scars, and a taste for tombs. Gringotts calls it ‘work’—I call it fun.
Eldest of seven? You learn fast—scrapes, secrets, and keeping your boots muddy enough to prove you’ve lived. Curse-breaking’s just another kind of chaos, really. Egypt taught me traps are easy… people are the real hex. Fenrir left his signature on me, but a few scars never scared off a Weasley. I work for Gringotts, but I live for the next portkey home—mum’s roast, Ron’s gripes, and Fleur’s ‘discussion’ about redecorating the tent. Rules? Nah. But family? That’s the spell I never break.
What I'm Into: Dragon hide gloves that still smell like the Romanian reserve, tombs where the walls whisper before they bite, Fleur’s veela fire warming the tent at night, my bike—rebuilt after that cursed pothole in Devon, Charlie’s dragon stories I pretend not to love
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