Mr. Weasley burst into laughter as if he were the audience to the story.
The Delacours, not very proficient in English, expressed their admiration in French. Their daughter, Gabrielle Delacour, seated between her parents, was the very image of Fleur, though only eleven, already a striking beauty. She and Ginny served as bridesmaids for the day's wedding.
Suddenly, Gabrielle jumped up from her seat, her small face pressed against the window, chattering excitedly, “Mum! Someone's coming, are they here for the wedding? Is it starting?”
Mr. Weasley also stood and walked to the window to observe the scene outside. “It's Percy and Penelope, and there's someone else—Sirius!” He glanced at his watch, then scanned the room, his gaze finally landing on Charlie.
“It's about time, Charlie, could you call the youngsters from the garage—” Charlie stood up promptly, “Sure, dad.” “—and check if they've turned the garage upside down while you're at it.”
“Let Gabrielle go,” Mr. Delacour suggested amiably. His wife stood up; the couple's height seemed reversed, with the wife towering over her husband, slender with radiant blonde hair, while the husband was short and stocky, sporting a black mustache.
Gabrielle scampered to the door, pushed it open, and vanished from their sight in a blink. It was as if a signal had been given, and everyone in the house sprung into action.
Meanwhile, earlier—
The adults engaged in conversation in the living room, while the kids (or those considered still kids) gathered in the Weasley's garage, casually chatting. Ron fiddled with a radio device the Weasley twins had brought back.
“I'm getting one of these,” Ron declared.
“You're not becoming an Auror then?” Fred raised an eyebrow.
“Of course, I am,” Ron retorted, “but that doesn't mean I can't have hobbies.”
“Our brother is fascinated with stuffing his voice into other people's ears,” Fred remarked to Cedric. The two families had moved close to each other for mutual support during Voldemort's brief resurgence and had remained close ever since the war ended.
“Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy it,” Ron pointed out.
“Yeah, just a heads-up,” George said with a menacing tone, “if you plan to share some ‘interesting’ family stories, better leave us out for the sake of your personal health.”
“You mean Dad’s interview?” Hermione asked the twins.
They didn’t directly answer. “The Daily Prophet quoted some Muggle reports, now I feel as exposed as if I’m standing naked in a blizzard,” Fred said, sounding dejected.
“Parents are terrifying creatures; they remember every embarrassing moment of your life from birth,” George added empathetically.
"—And they're all too eager to share."
“I thought it was Mom's hobby!”
“Turns out, Dad was the one delivering the fatal blow from behind.”
“Can’t even show my face in public now.”
The twins played off each other, but Harry didn’t see any embarrassment on their faces, and Mr. Weasley hadn’t mentioned anything particularly bad. However, Harry finally understood why the Weasley parents could tell their twins apart in their infancy—they marked their bottoms.
“Hey, I see a group of goblins peeking this way,” Cho said, looking through the window.
“That’s odd,” Ron mused, “they usually show up a day or two later, takes time to muster the courage.”
“I know why,” Ginny said, “Dad thought every family member should get some of the joy, so he sneaked some sweets to those goblins.”
“Every family member? Goblins?” Ron was gobsmacked, then realization dawned, “That explains why Dad suddenly thought of dressing up the ghoul in the attic. I thought he caught something from Mum… right, Harry?”
“Stop,” Harry grimaced, recalling the pus-filled blisters he accidentally popped while grabbing the ghoul's arm, the stench nearly knocked him out. Hermione, Ginny, and Cho giggled, Cedric turned his head away, struggling not to laugh.
Then, a girl with a waterfall of silver hair appeared at the door, “Hello! They're calling for you! The guests are arriving!”
“Got it, Gabrielle,” Hermione said gently, as if she hadn’t been the one laughing heartily just moments ago, “Let’s go.”
They emerged just as a procession was exiting The Burrow. Mr. Weasley handed the seating chart to Fred and George, “Help out, kids.” Then he turned sternly to Ginny, “If you don’t want your mother using the Sonorus Charm to call your name, you better hurry back and change.”
Ginny exclaimed, “Oh!” and dashed back. Gabrielle followed her, light on her feet.
“Where are Amelia and Tonks?” At the back of the
crowd, Felix and Lupin walked together, asking Sirius who had just arrived.
Sirius checked his watch.
“There’s an hour till the wedding starts. She should arrive about fifteen minutes early, so she’s probably inspecting Diagon Alley right now—preparing for the upcoming reception of Muggles. Tonks is with her, they sent me ahead to explain. Apparently, the commentator is from a travel agency, wonder whose brilliant idea that was.”
“That was me,” Felix said absentmindedly, “just a passing thought.”
“Insightful,” Sirius grinned, “I don’t know the wizard, but back in school, that travel agency seemed committed to ‘losing’ more wizards than any other.”
“There will be Aurors watching in secret,” Felix assured, “What about the delegates from the International Confederation of Wizards, when are they arriving?”
“They’re here,” Sirius confirmed, “Amelia had them rest up at the Ministry, then come together. Akingbade’s looking rough.”
At exactly three o’clock, Harry, Ron, Fred, and George stood outside the large, ivory-colored tent in the orchard, holding the seating chart and waiting for guests. A purple carpet extended from their feet to the end of the tent, where gold chairs were neatly arranged, and flowers Fred and George had bartered for in town adorned the tables and columns. Hermione and Penelope tirelessly arranged various small gifts at the center of each table.
Mr. Weasley disappeared for a while, then returned leading a group of waiters and a band, who took up their duties, gradually filling the tent with people.
Grawp couldn’t enter the tent; he could easily pluck the flags from the open tent roof without effort. As the only pure-blood giant in Britain—though it might not be related to that—Grawp also had a task, holding a bundle of balloons and handing one to each passing guest. But it only served to startle them considerably.
Yet, there were always those brave enough to try.
With nothing else to do, Felix watched the guests arriving from afar.
After observing for a while, Felix took out a magical camera and handed it to Mr. Weasley, who was overjoyed, clutching the camera as he left. When Felix looked outside again, he saw Percy standing in front of the giant, holding the camera, photographing guests daring enough to try and capture their bravery.
When a group of French girls, seemingly with Veela blood like Gabrielle, mustered the courage to take a photo, it became a special wedding activity. Successful participants seemed to return victorious, even their posture more upright.
Finally, the person Felix had been waiting for arrived.
Upon seeing Babajide Akingbade, Felix immediately knew Sirius’s previous assessment was an understatement. Akingbade wasn’t just a bit off; he looked severely worn, as if he had aged a decade in just over a month.
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