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Chairs set on either side of a long purple carpet. The supporting poles were entwined with

White and gold flowers. Fred and George had fastened an enormous bunch of golden

Balloons over the exact point where Bill and Fleur would shortly become husband and

Wife. Outside, butterflies and bees were hovering lazily over the grass and hedgerow.

Harry was rather uncomfortable. The Muggle boy whose appearance he was affecting

Was slightly fatter than him and his dress robes felt hot and tight in the full glare of a

summer’s day.

“When I get married,” said Fred, tugging at the collar of his own robes, “I won’t

be bothering with any of this nonsense. You can all wear what you like, and I’ll put a full

Body Bird Curse on Mum until it’s all over.”

“She wasn’t too bad this morning, considering,” said George. “Cried a bit about

Percy not being here, but who wants him. Oh blimey, brace yourselves, here they come,

look.”

Brightly colored figures were appearing, one by one out of nowhere at the distant

Boundary of the yard. Within minutes a procession had formed, which began to snake its

Way up through the garden toward the marquee. Exotic flowers and bewitched birds

fluttered on the witches’ hats, while precious gems glittered from many of the wizards’

Cravats; a hum of excited chatter grew louder and louder, drowning the sound of the bees

As the crowd approached the tent.

“Excellent, I think I see a few veela cousins,” said George, craning his neck for a

better look. “They’ll need help understanding our English customs, I’ll look after

them….”

“Not so fast, Your Holeyness,” said Fred, and darting past the gaggle of middleaged

witches heading for the procession, he said, “Here – permetiez moi to assister

vous,” to a pair of pretty French girls, who giggled and allowed him to escort them inside.

George was left to deal with the middle-aged witches and Ron took charge of Mr.

Weasley’s old Ministry-colleague Perkins, while a rather deaf old couple fell to Harry’s

Lot.

“Wotcher,” said a familiar voice as he came out of the marquee again and found

Tonks and Lupin at the front of the queue. She had turned blonde for the occasion.

“Arthur told us you were the one with the curly hair. Sorry about last night,” she added

in a whisper as Harry led them up the aisle. “The Ministry’s being very anti-werewolf at

the museum and we thought our presence might not do you any favors.”

“It’s fine, I understand,” said Harry, speaking more to Lupin than Tonks. Lupin

gave him a swift smile, but as they turned away Harry saw Lupin’s face fall again into

Lines of misery. He did not understand it, but there was no time to dwell on the matter.

Hagrid was causing a certain amount of disruption. Having misunderstood Fred’s

Directions as he had sat himself, not upon the magically enlarged and reinforced seat set

Aside for him in the back row, but on five sets that now resembled a large pile of golden



Matchsticks.

While Mr. Weasley repaired the damage and Hagrid shouted apologies to

Anybody who would listen, Harry hurried back to the entrance to find Ron face-to-face

With a most eccentric-looking wizard. Slightly cross-eyed, with shoulder-length white


Date: 2015-12-11; view: 670


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