the last verse ; harry potter [2]

seven ; wise words and weddings

At three o'clock the following afternoon, Diana found herself waiting idly by the marquee for the guests. That morning had been one straight from a circus: everyone jostled through the narrowed corridors in panicked haste, polishing and cleaning and organizing until the tent was up and the tables, decorations, and chairs were set. The Weasleys, aided by the Delacours, Harry, Hermione, Diana, and Hagrid, managed to perfectly prepare the wedding with only one person crying the entire time (it was Mrs. Weasley, who dropped a vase. It shattered, and she burst into tears until her Ron said, "are you a witch or not?" She magically mended it, and it is currently sitting perfectly intact on top of one of the tables).

Her dress, which she had found in Hogsmeade some time ago for cheap, brushed her ankles. Ginny braided her hair around her head like a halo earlier that morning, and after many unsuccessful attempts, she managed to temporarily transfigure her Extended bag into a small black purse with a thin strap, barely noticeable at her side.

"Damn, Diana!" yelled Fred, and George accompanied it with a whistle. "Who knew you cleaned up nicely!"

She threw a very rude gesture toward them, and Ginny appeared at her side.

"Can you braid my hair?"

Diana nodded, stepping behind the girl. Ginny wore a pale pink dress that Fleur had chosen for the bridesmaids. Diana quickly plaited her long, orange hair down her back and tied it off, giving a girl a quick pat on the shoulder to alert that she was finished.

"When are people supposed to be coming?" yelled a voice from above. Ron Weasley poked his head out of his open window, peering down at them.

"Like, five minutes ago!" yelled Ginny.

His head disappeared, and in a few moments, Ron and Harry were tumbling out of the door.

"Where's Hermione?" asked Ron.

"Here!" they heard, and Hermione was hustling out of the door, clutching a purple beaded bag at her side.

"Harry!" said Mrs. Weasley, hastening to the small group they had formed in the yard. She shoved a small glass in his hand. "Drink."

He downed it whole, and in moments he began to morph. Where Harry Potter once stood, there was now a ginger, freckled boy with pudgy cheeks, resembling a typical Weasley relative.

Ron burst out laughing, wiping a tear from his eye.

"Mate, you look ridiculous!"

"It's better this than getting killed by Death Eaters," Harry grumbled, running an angry hand through his orange hair.

"Get ready, they're coming!"

At the sound of Mrs. Weasley's shrilly squeal, they all turned to the hillside, where brightly-colored figures were popping into view. It quickly grew until a mass of rainbow-colored people were treading through the path paved in their peculiar garden, the chattering growing and growing until it was impossible to listen to any one conversation.

"Excellent," said George, craning his neck so he could see deeper into the crowd. "I think I see a few Veela cousins. They'll need some help understanding our English customs. . . I'll look after them. . . "

"Not so fast, Lugless," called Fred, dodging a group of middle-aged women and stopping in front of a group of the Veela cousins. "Here--permettez-moi to assister vous," he said, and the girls giggled. George was left to deal with the middle-aged witches as his brother charmed the beautiful French girls.

"Awe, don't worry, George. . . I'm sure there are tons of fish who are into guys with only one ear in the sea!" Ron called after him. Before George disappeared into the crowd with the witches, he replied with the very same rude gesture Diana used just minutes ago. "Heard they had an entire stack of Chocolate Frogs hidden on the north-side of the tent," said Ron to them. "Wanna go raid it?"