When they reached the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley looked far from happy. She was waving her wand around, preparing diner, very violently.
"We're eating out in the garden. There's just not room for eleven people in here. Could you take the plates outside, Hermione, Ginny? Bill and Charlie are setting up the tables. Amisty, if you could get the napkins," She nodded toward the raven-haired girl and then looked over at the boys. "Knives and forks, please, you two."
She pointed her wand at a pile of potatoes, which shot out of their skins and went bouncing around the kitchen.
"Oh for heaven's sake," She groaned, moving the dustpan so it scooped up the potatoes. "Those two! I don't know what's going to happen to them, I really don't. No ambition, unless you count making as much trouble as they possibly can..." She slammed a pot down on the table and Amisty watched as a fountain of sauce spilled into it from the tip of Mrs. Weasley's wand. "It's not as though they haven't got brains, but they're wasting them, and unless they pull themselves together soon, they'll be in real trouble. I've had more owls from Hogwarts about them than the rest put together. If they carry on the way they're going, they'll end up in front of the Improper Use of Magic Office."
Amisty took this as her cue to leave, and she crept quietly around to where the napkins were and sneaked out of the kitchen.
Of course, Mrs. Weasley's voice followed her, though faint, as she walked outside.
"I don't know where we went wrong with them. It's been the same for years, one thing after another, and they won't listen to -- OH NOT AGAIN!"
Amisty jumped at the sudden volume, barely catching herself in time before she dropped the clean linen on the dirty ground.
"One of their fake wands again! How many times have I told them not to leave them lying around?"
A few moments later, Ron and Harry left the kitchen, both carrying handfuls of silverware.
As she turned the corner, she almost dropped the napkins, again, as a loud bang erupted from behind the house.
Staring up, she watched in horror and amazement as Charlie and Bill fought with two worn tables, smashing them against each other in what she assumed was an attempt to knock the legs off.
Fred and George were already out there, cheering them on, as Ginny laughed and Hermione looked torn off to the side. With a pleading glance at Hermione, the brunette waved her wand with a small smile and crashing noises were muffled instantly.
There was another bang, and Charlie's table lost a leg, and then Percy's window burst open.
"Will you keep it down?!" He shouted furiously, looking very pink in the face.
"Sorry, Perce. How're the cauldron bottoms coming on?" Bill grinned, not looking very apologetic at all.
"Very badly," Percy replied snappishly, slamming the window shut once more.
Bill and Charlie, both laughing, finally dropped the tables down and Bill replaced the table and conjured tablecloths easily.
Amisty's jaw was practically on the ground at the easy showcase of magic.
By seven o'clock, they were all gathered around the two tables, covered with food and drinks and heaven.
Amisty ate as much as she could, beaming the whole time and probably would've choked if it hadn't been for Hermione constantly handing her a glass of water or juice.
"I've told Mr. Crouch that I'll have it ready by Tuesday," Percy was talking to Mr. Weasley about his job. "That's a bit sooner than he expected it, but I like to keep on top of things. I think he'll be grateful I've done it in good time, I mean, it's extremely busy in our department just now, what with all the arrangements for the World Cup. We're just not getting the support we need from the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Ludo Bagman -- "
"I like Ludo. He was the one who got us such good tickets for the Cup. I did him a bit of a favor: His brother, Otto, got into a spot of trouble -- a lawnmower with unnatural powers -- I smoothed the whole thing over," Mr. Weasley cut in.
"Oh Bagman's likable enough, of course, but how he ever got Head of Department... when I compare him to Mr. Crouch! I can't see Mr. Crouch losing a member of our department and not trying to find out what's happened to them. You realize Bertha Jorkins has been missing for over a month now? Went on holiday to Albania and never came back?" Percy continued.
"Yes, I was asking Ludo about that. He says Bertha's gotten lost plenty of times before now -- though I must say, if it was someone in my department, I'd be worried..." Mr. Weasley frowned.
"Oh Bertha's hopeless, all right. I hear she's been shunted from department to department for years, much more trouble than she's worth... but all the same, Bagman ought to be trying to find her. Mr. Crouch has been taking a personal interest, she worked in our department at one time, you know, and I think Mr. Crouch was quite fond of her -- but Bagman just keeps laughing and saying she probably misread the map and ended up in Australia instead of Albania. However," He took another sip of wine, "we've got quite enough on our plates at the Department of International Magical Cooperation without trying to find members of other departments too. As you know, we've got another big event to organize right after the World Cup." He cleared his throat loudly and cast his gaze down the table where the four of them were sitting.
"You know the one I'm talking about, Father. The top-secret one."
Ron just rolled his eyes, muttering, "He's been trying to get us to ask what that event is ever since he started work. Probably an exhibition of thick-bottomed cauldrons."
Amisty covered her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing, her ears picking up an argument in the middle of the table between Mrs. Weasley and Bill.
"...with a horrible great fang on it. Really, Bill, what do they say at the bank?" Mrs. Weasley sighed.
"Mum, no one at the bank gives a damn how I dress as long as I bring home plenty of treasure," Bill explained, patient as ever.
"And your hair's getting silly, dear. I wish you'd let me give it a trim..." She continued as if he hadn't had said anything.
"I like it. You're so old-fashioned, Mum. Anyway, it's nowhere near as long as Professor Dumbledore's..." Ginny piped up.
And then there were Fred, George, and Charlie, all talking about the upcoming World Cup.
"It's got to be Ireland. They flattened Peru in the semifinals," Charlie was saying through his potatoes.
"Bulgaria has got Viktor Krum, though," Fred pointed out.
"Krum's one decent player, Ireland has got seven. I wish England had got through. That was embarrassing, that was," Charlie shook his head.
"What happened?" Harry asked brightly, leaning forward in his seat eagerly.
"Went down to Transylvania, three hundred and ninety to ten. Shocking performance. And Wales lost to Uganda, and Scotland was slaughtered by Luxembourg," Charlie replied bitterly.
Dinner continued, Mr. Weasley conjuring candles to brighten the darkness as they ate strawberry ice cream, and the air was so fresh and warm Amisty felt as if she could fall asleep right there.
Ron leaned over to Harry, his voice quiet. "So -- have you heard from Sirius lately?"
Hermione and Amisty pretended to be engaged in a quiet conversation, their hearing focused on the boys.
"Yeah, twice. He sounds okay. I wrote to him yesterday. He might write back while I'm here," Harry replied, just as quiet.
"Look at the time. You really should be in bed, the whole lot of you -- " Mrs, Weasley announced suddenly, checking her watch.
"Harry, Amisty, if you would leave your schools lists out, I'll get your things for you tomorrow in Diagon Alley. I'm getting everyone else's. There might not be time after the World Cup, the match went on for five days last time."
"Wow -- hope it does this time!" Harry exclaimed, eyes wide and bright.
"Well, I certainly don't. I shudder to think what the state of my in-tray would be if I was away from work for five days," Percy turned up his nose.
"Yeah, someone might slip dragon dung in it again, eh, Perce?" Fred asked, nudging him with his elbow as he passed.
"That was a sample of fertilizer from Norway. It was nothing personal!" Percy protested, bright red.
"It was. We sent it," Fred whispered to Harry and Amisty, giving them a wink and disappearing into the house.
Amisty followed Hermione and Ginny, the three of them changing into their pajamas and lying on their beds sleepily.
But, of course, they wouldn't fall asleep just that early. A letter had arrived for Amisty sometime during dinner, lying on her bed with her name written in familiar green ink.
"Is that from Malfoy?" Ginny asked casually as if the four simple words wouldn't give Amisty a heart attack.
"What?" She choked out, almost crumpling the letter into a ball in her hands.
"Hermione told me, I don't really get it but as long as he doesn't say anything too rude to you," The redhead shrugged, rolling over to get a better view of Amisty.
The said girl whirled around to stare at her friend, conflicted between anger and confusion.
Hermione held up her hands, "I had to. She was wondering why you and he weren't at each other's throat so much."
"Was it really that obvious?" Amisty groaned, dropping her head into her hands, the letter long forgotten.
"Well... a few of the Gryffindor girls in my year were making bets about whether or not you fancied each other so I asked," Ginny grinned sheepishly.
"There's Gryffindors making bets on Draco and I having a relationship," Amisty repeated, dumbfounded.
"Now you know," She nodded, still unfazed. "Go on then, read the letter, we're not stopping you."
Amisty blinked, trying to process the newfound information as she tore open the envelope. The gleam of Draco's familiar penmanship greeted her.
To no one's surprise, Ginny and Hermione leaned closer to read it over her shoulder.
Dear Amisty,
How has your summer been so far? Mine has been rather boring so far, though I do wonder why on earth we need dress robes this year...
That was news to Amisty. She looked up at her friends, confused and awaiting explanation.
"No one knows what they're for yet, I'd imagine they'll tell us when we get there," Hermione answered her unasked question.
"When are we going to be buying dresses, then?" Amisty asked, still confused if Mrs. Weasley was buying all their supplies.
"Mum's got it covered, she already has a good idea as to what she's going to get everyone," Ginny piped up, sounding faintly impatient. "Keep reading!"
"You're reading it over my shoulder, it's not like you're waiting for me to continue," Amisty pointed out, eyebrows raised.
Ginny just swatted at her shoulder.
... Do you happen to be going to the Quidditch World Cup this year? Unfortunately, I don't happen to have hearing like yours, so I wasn't able to hear what you and your friends were talking about at the train station, but you all looked very excited. I'd have to assume it had something to do with an event going on over the summer, and you hadn't mentioned anything in any of your previous letters. Anyways, have an amazing rest of your summer, Amisty, I'll see you at Hogwarts.
Until then, Draco
"He's much politer through letters, isn't he," Ginny commented, sitting back up on her bed.
"I'll say. Any conversation we have in person takes all of my mental control not to strangle him," Amisty replied, shaking her head.
"That's just because he doesn't know when to keep his words to himself," Hermione sighed, rolling over.
"I don't either," Amisty shrugged, not quite sure as to why she was defending him.
"And you wonder why we place bets on you two," Ginny rolled her eyes, rolling over as well.
"Because we're constantly on the verge of strangling each other?" Amisty asked, shocked. "I don't think that's a healthy relationship."
"But it could be," Ginny argued.
Amisty laughed good-naturedly, turning her back to the two of them, "You keep telling yourself that, Gin."