Chapter 7

The Wedding

The Burrow had never been in such a state before; voices shouting, people running up and down the halls in all states of dress and undress. Harry overslept, waking up well after noon.  This was hardly noticed, since the groom, his best man, and groomsmen had done so as well.

After Harry and Ginny had said their goodnights the previous evening, Harry had snuck up to Ron's room and was immediately set upon by the indignant Weasley brothers who first demanded to know where their father had taken Harry and, upon hearing the explanation, then demanded to be shown the motorbike.

And so, they all climbed out Ron's window, clambered down the trellis and crept out to the shed where the Weasleys took turns punching Harry in the shoulder, calling him all manner of affectionate foul names, begging for a chance to ride the bike as soon as the wedding was over, and working their way through Ron's birthday present, which Fred and George refilled every half hour or so.

The result was a tired, unkempt and bleary-eyed collection of fellows scrambling to dress and shave and avoid the wrath of Mrs. Weasley. Ginny and Hermione had commandeered the second floor bathroom while Bill and Charlie were allowed to use the first floor one, "only because you have to turn up looking decent, being the groom. What were you thinking William Arthur Weasley!" 

Fred, George, Ron and Harry were told by Mrs. Weasley, in icy tones, that they could use the well outside to wash up, and that if they fell in and drowned, not to bother calling on her for assistance.

Things did not improve when Mad-Eye Moody turned up shortly before the ceremony was to begin dragging a barrel of Polyjuice Potion and a thick file folder. Harry and Ron, returning from the well, walked into the kitchen just as Moody had finished explaining his plans.

"Moody, we are not having the entire wedding party and guests disguised as Muggles!" Arthur was saying, in an exasperated tone. The Delacours were too shocked to say anything at all. Fleur, who was hiding upstairs lest Bill see her before the ceremony, was shouting a stream of French words down the staircase, most of which, Harry guessed, were obscenities.

"No way Moody," said Bill. "I want to be looking at Fleur when I marry her, not some," he read from a small envelope in his hand, "'little old lady from Bath.'" Bill tossed the envelope back to Moody, who shoved it in his file folder with a grunt.

"At the very least, Potter should be disguised then," Moody said, turning to Harry.

Harry, who had been behind Moody, jumped when he heard his name. Why was everybody so loud this morning?

"Who do you want me to be?" Harry asked, resigned. He would have preferred to be himself, but he understood that it was his presence that was putting everyone in danger. Both the Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix had placed protective enchantments over the Burrow, and while the Weasleys never complained, Harry knew it was quite a burden on them.

Moody flipped through his folder, tossing aside one envelope after another. "Been collecting these hairs for years now; never know when you'll need a temporary identity. Here's a good one, we'll pass you off as one of the Weasleys."

He handed Harry an envelope that was simply marked "Red Headed."

"Don't you know anything else about this one?"

"Not really. Grabbed a bunch of hairs off the floor of a bus that had crashed in Piccadilly Circus."

"What if it’s a girl?" asked Harry, alarmed.

"Then you'll have more sense," said Mrs. Weasley, irritably.

Harry thought it wise not to argue the point. Moody Conjured a glass and pulled the cork from the barrel. A thick, lumpy stream of Potion oozed out.  Harry opened the envelope and sprinkled the few ginger hairs into the potion, which caused it to turn frothy and purple. Moody handed him the glass and put the stopper back in place.

"Won't I need to keep drinking it all day?" Harry asked.

"Not this stuff. Potion's been improved. This version lasts six hours per dose," Moody replied. "Course that helps their side too. Dark wizards can impersonate one of us long enough to do some real damage. I assume all the guests have their own passwords?" Moody's magical eye roved over to Bill and Arthur.

"We thought invitations would suffice, Moody," was Arthur's reply.

Moody snorted. "This wedding is a bloodbath waiting to happen. Drink that, boy! What are you waiting for?"

With one last desperate hope that he would turn out male and not a cat, Harry drank. He felt a burning in his stomach and his skin bubbled and stretched. He felt his waistline expanding and his shoes tightening as his feet grew longer and fatter. A curly red fringe appeared over Harry's eyes, which no longer needed their glasses.

When the transformation was finished, Harry turned to Ron, bracing himself for the news.

"What do I look like?"

"A fat, curly-haired git," said Ron. 

"You look fine," said Arthur, glaring at his son. "We'll call you ah...Cousin Barney. Now why don't you boys go wait outside while the bridal party finishes getting ready?"

Harry and Ron met up with Fred and George at the entrance of the great white marquee. It was warm, and Harry's extra girth made his dress robes uncomfortably tight.  The late afternoon sun did nothing to improve his headache, either.  The twins, after making numerous jokes about Harry's appearance and needling him and Ron both about their hangovers,  gave them each a seating plan so that they could help show the impending guests to their correct seats. A host of white-robed waiters had arrived, along with a golden-jacketed band, and all of these wizards were currently sitting a short distance away under a tree.

Behind Harry, inside the tent, stood rows and rows of fragile golden chairs set on either side of a long purple carpet. The supporting poles were entwined with white and gold flowers and there was an enormous bunch of golden balloons at the head of the aisle, marking the place where Bill and Fleur would shortly become husband and wife.

"Brace yourselves," said George, nodding his head toward a long line of brightly colored figures that were snaking their way up and down the hills outside the Burrow's enchanted boundaries.  "Here they come."

For the next half hour, Harry, Ron and the twins barely had time to catch a breath as they raced back and forth, escorting Veela cousins, middle-aged witches, Ministry co-workers and the vast assortment of Weasley relatives all of whom were determined to place Harry.

"Are you Mathilda's boy?" asked one particularly persistent warlock with only a few strands of red left in his gray hair.  "I know I've seen you before."   

Harry pretended not to hear, dashing back up to the tent entrance and nearly colliding with the most eccentric-looking wizard he had ever seen. Slightly cross-eyed, with shoulder length white hair the texture of candyfloss, he wore a cap the tassel of which dangled in front of his nose and robes of an eye-watering shade of yellow.

"Xenophilius Lovegood," he said, not at all concerned that Harry had very nearly crashed into him. "My daughter and I live just over the hill, so kind of the good Weasleys to invite us."

"Is Luna here with you?" asked Harry.

"Oh you know her? She lingered in that charming little garden to say hello to the gnomes, such a glorious infestation! How few wizards realize just how much we can learn from the wise little gnomes, or to give them their correct name, the Gernumbli gardensi."

"Ours do know a lot of excellent swear words," said Fred, appearing at Harry's elbow. He spotted a pair of French girls looking lost and darted after them.

"Would you like to wait for your daughter, Mr. Lovegood, or take your seat now?" Harry asked, but at that moment Luna rushed up.

"Hello Harry!" she said cheerfully.

"Er-- my name's Barney," said Harry, completely flummoxed.

"Oh have you changed that too?"

"How did you know ---?"

"Oh, just your expression," she said with wave.

Like her father, Luna was wearing bright yellow robes, which she had accessorized with a large sunflower in her hair. Once you got over the brightness of it all, the general effect was quite pleasant.

Her father had drifted off, lost in conversation with an acquaintance, but Luna followed Harry to her seat, talking animatedly about the decor and Ginny, who had waved to her from a window, and how fortunate she had been to have been bitten by a Gernumbli in the garden.

"You look smart Harry," she said, sitting down. "I told Daddy most people would probably wear dress robes, but he believes you should wear sun colors to a wedding -- for luck, you know."

Harry thanked her and hurried back down the aisle, meeting Ron, who was escorting a slender, elderly witch. Her beaky nose, red-rimmed eyes, and feathery pink hat gave her the appearance of a bad-tempered flamingo.

"...and your hair's much too long, Ronald. For a moment, I thought you were Ginevra. Merlin's beard, what is Xenophilius Lovegood wearing? He looks like an omelet. And who are you?" she barked at Harry.

"Auntie Muriel, this is my cousin Barney," supplied Ron.

"Another Weasley? You breed like gnomes. Isn't Harry Potter here? I was hoping to meet him. I thought he was a friend of yours, Ronald, or have you merely been boasting?"

"No - he couldn't come - "

"Hmph. Made an excuse did he? Not as gormless as he looks in photographs then. Well, move along . You're blocking the aisle. I can't stand here all day, I'm a hundred and seven! And close your mouth boy, you look like a codfish."

Harry shut his mouth and stepped aside, throwing Ron a sympathetic look as he passed by. When they next met, several minutes later, the marquee was nearly full. Harry scanned the crowd; there was Hagrid, of course, taking up the whole back row.  Harry quickly spotted Moody as well, sitting at the back, wand drawn, and twitching nervously. He found Lupin and Tonks (blonde for the occasion) and nearly fell over when he saw what looked like Bellatrix Black sitting next to her.

"Who is that," Harry asked, pointing his trembling fingers.

"Who? Harry calm down you're shaking. That's Andromeda Tonks - Tonks's mother. Her husband is a friend of Dad's."

Harry blinked. Now that the shock had worn off, he could see that Andromeda's hair was a soft shade of brown, and curlier than her sister's and her expression kinder. She had been Sirius' favorite cousin, he remembered.

"Nightmare, Muriel is," said Ron, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "She used to come for Christmas every year."

"What happened?" Harry asked absently, still thinking of Sirius.

"She took offense one year, when Fred and George set off a Dung Bomb under her chair at dinner. Dad always says she'll have written them out of her will - like they care. They're going to end up richer than anyone in the family, rate their going....Wow!"

Hermione had appeared, dressed in a floaty lilac gown with matching high heels. Her hair was shiny and fell in sleek waves instead of its usual bushy mass.

"You look great!" Ron told her, trying not to look surprised.

"Your Great-Aunt Muriel doesn't agree," laughed Hermione. "I met her when she came upstairs to give Fleur her tiara. She said 'Oh dear is this the Muggle-born?' and then 'Bad posture and skinny ankles.'"

"Don't take it personally, she's rude to everyone," Ron assured her.

"Talking about Muriel?" inquired George, reemerging from the marquee with Fred. "She's just told me to steer clear of Fleur's relatives, 'cause one Frenchy in the family is more than enough. Old bat. I'll bet Uncle Bilius died just to get away from her. It's a shame he's not here, he was a right laugh at weddings."

"Wasn't he the one who saw a Grim and died twenty-four hours later?" asked Hermione.

"I'd be looking for the Grim too, if I were married to Muriel," said Fred.

"Excuse me," interrupted a dark-haired young man with a large, curved nose and thick black eyebrows. "Am I late?"

"Viktor!" shrieked Hermione, dropping her small beaded bag. Blushing, she scrambled to pick it up. "I didn't know you were coming--goodness--it's lovely to see you!"

"It's you who are lovely," said Viktor, in a suave tone that neither Ron nor Harry could ever hope to achieve.

Ron had turned an unpleasant shade of purple during this exchange. He snatched Krum's invitation and scanned it closely, as if he did not believe a word of it. "How come you're here?" he demanded, loudly.

"Fleur invited me," answered Krum, eyebrows raised. He turned to Hermione again. "And I vanted to bring you this," he pulled a small leather-bound book from his robes. "But I must say that a book of this nature, I vould question the motives of anyone but you, who vanted such a book."

Harry's heart gave a thud. It must be about the Horcruxes. He exchanged a knowing glance with Ron and Hermione, who took the book and stuffed it in her beaded bag, promising to explain the circumstances to Viktor after the ceremony.

Ron opened his mouth to protest and Harry thinking it best to remove Krum from the immediate vicinity, offered to show Viktor to his seat. His appearance caused quite a stir, particularly amongst the Veela cousins. He was, after all, a famous Quidditch player. While people were still craning their necks to get a good look at him, Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George came hurrying down the aisle.

"Time to sit down," Fred told Harry, "or we're going to get run over by the bride."

They took their seats in the second row. Hermione and Ron both looked cross and Harry wondered how they had managed to pick a fight in the few minutes since he had seen them last. All became clear a few moments later, when Ron could not resist whispering to Harry "Did you see that stupid little beard he's grown?"

Harry mumbled something noncommittal.

A sense of jittery anticipation had filled the warm tent. The general murmur was occasionally broken by spurts of excited laughter. Arthur and Mrs. Weasley strolled down the aisle, smiling and nodding at relatives; Mrs. Weasley was wearing a brand-new set of amethyst robes with a matching hat.

A moment later, Bill and Charlie stood up at the front of the marquee, both wearing dress robes with white rosebuds in their buttonholes. The crowd fell silent as music swelled, seemingly from nowhere.

"Ohhh," breathed Hermione, turning in her seat to look at the entrance of the bridal party.

Gabrielle came first, taking delicate steps and smiling shyly behind a bouquet of white roses. Ginny followed in a golden dress to match Gabrielle's and Harry could not take his eyes off her until Ron elbowed him in the ribs and whispered, "Ginny's cousins generally don't look at her like that, you know."

Fleur appeared then, gliding gracefully down the aisle with her round little father bouncing and beaming along next to her. She wore a simple white dress and seemed to be emitting a strong, silvery glow. While her radiance usually dimmed everyone else by comparison, today it beautified everybody it fell upon. Ginny and Gabrielle looked even prettier than usual and once Fleur had reached him, Bill did not look as though he had ever met Fenrir Greyback.

The ceremony began, officiated by a tall moon-faced man whom Harry had never seen before. His mind wandered; did his parents have a wedding like this? He had one photograph from the ceremony and it showed only James, Lily and Sirius, their best man. Harry thought of the letters he had shoved under the camp bed in Ron's room. The last one he'd read had been to Aunt Petunia, announcing Lily's engagement and inviting her to the ceremony. Did she attend? What about his grandparents....did Charles Evans escort his daughter up the aisle as Mr. Delacour had done?

Harry was only vaguely aware of the voices murmuring around him. Bill and Fleur were reciting vows to each other, and Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Delacour were sobbing quietly into bits of lace. Harry tried to imagine himself getting married one day, but he could not. It seemed impossible to even conceive of a life after Voldemort, or apart from him. His path had been set from the beginning and while he might be able to step off for a few hours or days, he would never be free to go where he pleased, not while Voldemort still waited for him at the end of the road. Harry suddenly wondered when Scrimgeour would be bringing him the Sword - or if he would.

The moon-faced wizard was saying something now, raising his wand high over the heads of Bill and Fleur and causing a shower of silver and gold stars to fall upon them. As Fred and George led a round of applause, the golden balloons overhead burst and birds of paradise flew out of them singing in celebration.

"Ladies and gentleman, if you would now stand up" called the officiant. They all did so, Auntie Muriel groaning audibly. The seats on which they had been sitting rose gracefully into the air as the canvas walls of the marquee vanished, so that they stood beneath a canopy supported by golden poles, with a glorious view of the sunset sinking into the countryside.