A/N: Alrighty then, here is chapter four. I hope it isn't as confusing and horrible as I think it is. I failed to run it through my normal editing service, so sorry.

Disclaimer: I really wish I did, but I don't own Harry Potter. I do, however, own Riviera. I don't even own the kids! Well, their names, anyway. I got to get creative with the personalities, though! It makes me feel special.....

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"So my father was a lying, cheating, man-whore of a bastard while he was in school? What a surprise!"

Riviera had spent the last three days at the Burrow, plying the enormous Weasley family for information and being constantly told by Molly Weasley that she was much too skinny. The fact that Sirius Black had been a notorious ladies man during his seven years at Hogwarts was just one of the many tidbits of information that Riviera had picked up in that time.

Riviera had slipped into the Weasley family life surprisingly well. In fact, she had met all but two of the Weasleys for all that she had been there for such a short time.

First, there was Bill, the eldest of the Weasley sons. Bill must have been extremely handsome before the war with Voldemort. He was tall, though not quite as lofty as Ron was, and had the Weasley red hair. His hair, however, was long, falling just past his shoulders. Bill usually wore it in a ponytail at the base of his neck. Unfortunately, his face was now seamed by a rather spectacular set of scars.

Bill's wife's features, however, more than made up for his marred face. Fleur Delacour, though she did now go as Fleur Weasley, was as stunning as she was willful. Her silvery blond hair cascaded down her back in gently curling waves. Fleur had large ice blue eyes that were at once soft and suspicious. She had greeted Riviera with a haughty and nearly offended "And zis creature iz who?" The couple had a daughter and was expecting another within a few months. Victoire, who was about four, was already making it quite apparent that her she would one day possess her mother's stupendous beauty. She was a precocious child, and Riviera found her extremely loveable, if hard to handle.

Charlie was the next Weasley son. Riviera had me him one. He still worked in Romania with dragons, as he had during the War. He was a stout man, somewhat stocky and extremely strong. One could not say that Charlie was particularly good looking, but his open face had a very attractive quality. Riviera had yet to determine why it was that Charlie had no romantic attachments. Not that Riviera was interested, but she was quite curious.

Then there was Percy. Percy was a gangly man with tousled fly-a-way red hair. Percy, for all that he was obviously very intelligent, had a very scatter-brained sort of personality; it was quite endearing. Riviera figured out very quickly that Percy liked to make people think he was somewhat smarter than he was. He wasn't a bad person in any way, Percy just liked to too his own horn, as it were. When Molly had first heard Riviera describe Percy's antics in that manner, she had been flabbergasted. Then, after a moment, Molly had burst into laughter. After subduing her gales of laughter, Molly had used the American figure of speech so often that Riviera nearly regretting introducing it to the older woman.

Audrey, Percy's supposedly darling little wife, was currently visiting her grandparents in Ireland. As a direct result, Percy was over at his parents' house every night, regaling anyone who listened, and a great many would people who flat out refused to, with stories of what a horrendous disaster he was in the kitchen. He also brought along his daughter, Molly.

It occurred to Riviera that after having so many boys in the family, it was only fitting that the Weasleys become overrun by a host of mischievous little girls.

Riviera already knew Ron, obviously. She had figured out fast that while Ron wasn't always the brightest crayon in the box, he was one of the most loyal people on earth. Riviera had taken an immediate like to Ronald, who was remarkably easy to tease.

Hermione Granger, unlike her darling husband-to –be, was extremely intelligent. She and Riviera had hit it off splendidly. While Riviera was asking questions about her father's last years of life, the young American was answering queries about her own culture and magic.

Ginny, the youngest of the large and widespread Weasley family, hadn't really liked Riviera at first. She had been suspicious, as Riviera had expected. Ginny had been prone to asking Riviera random and occasionally awkward questions at indiscriminate moments. After a few of these, Riviera had quietly and calmly taken Ginny aside and told the other woman that she was in no way a threat to her family and asked if she would please stop pestering Riviera, it was getting more than a little unsettling. After that, Ginny and Riviera had been nearly the best of friends.

There were supposed to be two more sons. Molly had gotten very quite when the subject of her twin boys came up. Riviera had to look elsewhere for an explanation. Bill had finally been the one to explain. The elder of the twins, Fred, had been killed during the Final Battle in the war. His brother, George, had not yet fully recovered from the loss. George had practically severed the ties to his family. Somehow, he managed to keep Weasley Wizard Wheezes, the joke shop that Fred and George had opened, open and thriving. He had retreated to his flat above his shop. He was seen at the Burrow about once every three months.

"Everyone was tolerant of it at first." Bill had said, practically whispering so Molly would not over hear. "It was understandable. Fred and George were practically one person, they were so close." He had sighed at that point. "After six years though…."

"Yeah, I think I kind of understand." Riviera had murmured. Riviera had felt a very tangible change in the atmosphere around the family members. It had faded after a few hours, returning to the normal jovial atmosphere, but Riviera had a slightly different picture of the family now. She had realized that not all was happiness now.

She did manage to convince Ron to tell some stories about the twins. Most were hilarious tales of practical jokes and obscene gags. They were all very interesting. Fred and George had apparently authored so much trouble that they spent as much time figuring out how they were going to get out of it as they were for creating it.

By the end of the second day, Riviera realized that she was asking less and less questions about her father than she was about George and the family's past.

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"Riviera, would you mind terribly helping us watch the kids?"

Stifling a sigh, Riviera replied "Of course not!" The sigh had not been because Riviera didn't enjoy looking after the rambunctious Victoire and the ever-so-curious Molly, but because the girls were so tiring. On her first day at the Burrow, Riviera had enjoyed an amazing production of table- ballet, a symphony of broken dishes, and a squalling match that a category five hurricane would have been proud of. Who knew what else the two Weasley grandchildren had in store for their baby-sitters.

Victoire, like her mother, was a naturally haughty creature. You would never find the four-year-old digging in the dirt or taunting the gnomes in the Burrow's enormous garden. The child had silvery red hair and her mother's angelic blue eyes. Victoire already possessed the talent to use those big, innocent, azure eyes to get her out of trouble and mislead strangers into believing that she was as angelic as she looked. If anyone was taken in by those looks, though, they would be very sorry indeed for their mistake. Victoire was…..rambunctious, to say the least.

Little Molly, named for her grandmother, on the other hand, was somewhat easier to handle than her cousin was, if only because she wasn't to the point of yelling and screaming when she didn't get her way. Molly was more inclined to crawl into a corner and pout. It was quite a wonder that little Molly preferred treating people to the cold shoulder rather than shrieking her head off. The child was only two after all. She looked more like a Weasley, too. She had flaming red hair that stuck out from around her head in a halo of fire. Her eyes were brown shot with bright green and amber, a gift from her mother Audrey. Molly was a naturally curious creature. Where Victoire held herself above playing in the dirt, Molly could be found up to her knees in a mud puddle.

All of this Riviera found out in three long, tiring and incredibly enjoyable days.

Riviera rose from the desk in her barrowed bedroom and made her way down the narrow, winding stairway to the rather large and much cluttered den. Already manning their battle stations were a tired looking Hermione, an ethereal Fleur and the wary Ginny. All three were quite aware of what was to come.

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After three exhausting hours, Riviera's long black hair was matted with flour, her hands were coated with molasses, and her face was covered in a huge, self-satisfied smirk. Molly and Victoire were finally tuckered out and the two youngsters had dozed off leaving their parents and baby-sitters to clean up the mess they had made.

Currently, the five women were attacking the kitchen with mops, soapy rags, and a broom. The terrible 'twins' had decided to attempt 'cooking' and had come up with a rather artful creation of sugar, salt and pepper, the aforementioned flour and molasses, and raw bacon.

"Ugh, this is so disgusting!" Ginny exclaimed. "Mum, did I ever get into this much of a mess?"

"Not exactly like this, dear. You were a deceptively sweet child. Hermione, would you mind wiping down that plate for me?"

"Just put in the tub with all the other dishes. No, not that one. The one with all the soapy water."

"Oh, sorry dear," The older made to move the dripping plate into the proper bucket.

"Where iz Miz Riviera?" Fleur inquired. The young mother had just realized that the other woman was missing.

"Don't worry, here I am!" Riviera appeared from around the corner, emerging from the hallway. "I had to find something. Hopefully it will make our lives just a little bit easier for the time being."

The four other women looked at her. "Look, if I explain it to you now, you won't go for it."

"Well, I don't know…." Molly eyebrows were drawn together, her expression skeptical.

"Please? I have tried this before."

"What exactly are you planning, is it an American spell?" Hermione asked from her place at the kitchen sink.

"Well of course it is! I highly doubt Riviera, being American would be doing something, I don't know, Arabic!" Ginny couldn't resist the sarcastic opportunity presented by Hermione's question.

"Actually, the spell I want to do is a modified version of a Scottish spell with a Middle Eastern twist."

Ginny merely rolled her eyes.

"I suppose it would be all right." Molly still looked doubtful, but there was a slightly curious twinkle in her eye. "You can't make this mess any worse."

"Yay!" Riviera squealed, jumping up and down and clapping her hand. "What?" She asked when she received some rather concerned looks from Hermione, Ginny, Molly, and Fleur.

"Are you sure you've tried this before?" Ginny inquired.

"Of course! I just hope this time goes better than last time, I'd rather not make the stove explode agian." The last part was said to herself.

"What!" Molly had cought the last part of that statement.

"Nevermind!" Riviera cringed slightly, thinking to herself I still have to apologize to Aunt Mariah for that!

"Wait, if your doing a spell, where's your wand?" Hermione inquired.

"Oh! I guess I haven't explained that." Riviera frowned for a moment. "American magicians don't use wands. We have a rather different approac to magic than the Europeans. Our methods for magic use are formed mostly by Native American, both Northern and Southern, methods. Most of which don't require a wand." She paused for a moment. "Most of the spells we use don't require a wand. And that's okay with us, relly. In fact, during the witch hunts a few centuries ago, one of the tell tale signs that the hunters looked for was a wand, so even the European based witches and wizards stopped using wands. It was dangerous to carry one." Another pause, "After a school was founded for all American wizarding children, the use of focus objects, because that's all wands really are, was confined to only special spells. The use of wands in the Americas is nearly nonexistant nowadays." Riviera shrugged.

Hermione opened her mouth, preparing for another question when Molly cut her off. "Come on Hermione, Riviera will be here for quite a while, you can aske her all the questions you want, but later. Let her do whatever spell she wants to try before the children wake up!"

Riviera nearly missed Fleur's muttered "Crazy American" in her excitement. Her reply startled a small laugh from the haughty Frenchwoman: "Well of course I'm crazy, I'm here aren't I? Now could you please vacate the room for the moment?"

The others followed her instructions as Riviera moved into the room. They were all extremely perplexed when they say her pull out a small pouch with a drawstring and a strange symbol on the front. They became even more confused when Riviera began sprinkling what appeared to be a concoction of crumpled leaves across the two doorways leading into the large kitchen along with the sills of all of the windows. They nearly missed how she was muttering all the while.

Ginny, Fleur, and Molly turned to Hermione for possible explanation only to find that the bushy haired woman was scribbling franticly in a huge notebook.

They turned back in time to see Riviera pull out a small but thick book with a leather cover and the words 'The New Homemaker's Guide' embossed in gold leaf across the front. They couldn't hear her even though she was no more than five feet away from where they were standing and looked as if she should be speaking very loudly. Fleur reached out toward the air above the line formed by the crumbled leaves. Then her hand stopped. It couldn't pass the line. At all. "What iz zis?!" The part-veela shrilled, "what iz zis magic?'

The four didn't have a chance to ponder the strange barrier blocking off the kitchen as the room was suddenly filled with a flurry of dark green sparks that blew flew the room coloring an otherwise invisible wind. The invisible force filled the room with a translucent veil that made it nearly impossible to see through to what was going on inside the kitchen.

Just as suddenly as it came, the green cloud was gone and the Burrow's kitchen was again visible. The women's jaws dropped, including Riviera's.

Riviera trotted over to her barrier and scuffed part of it away with her foot. The others moved into the kitchen, staring around them. The kitchen was cleaner than it had ever been. The dishes were all in their places and the misplaced food was back in the pantry and stashed away in the icebox. The counters litterally sparkled with cleanliness.

"How in the world did you do this," Molly asked.

"I followed the directions!

"What the bloody hell is going on here?!" The five women swung around to face the speaker, a tall young man with flaming red hair.

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George Weasley let himself let himself into his childhood home. He sniffed deeply, swallowing the scents that came along with the house. He had been gone for quite a long time. Everything in this house reminded him of Fred, and that just squashed any hope George might have had of recovering from the loss of his twin.

George headed for the kitchen, the area of the house that his mother was most likely to inhabit.

He walked in, approaching it like normal, when he walked into an invisible wall where the open doorway was supposed to be. What he saw through the barrier was his sister, his mother, and two of his sisters-in-law and a tall, black haired woman that looked vaguely familiar, standing in the middle of an uncommonly clean Weasley kitchen.

George tried once again to walk through the door way and once again failed. The red head glanced down and saw a line of crumbled leaves across the door.

"What the bloody hell is going in here?!" He yelled. The women turned around, surprise wreathing all of their faces and alarm touched the black haired woman's features.

"George! How nice to see you," his mother cried.

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A/N: So... What do you think?...... Horrible? Awful? Simply atrocious? COme on now, if I can get creative with insulting my own work, so can you! Seriously, I have to admit, this is a pretty dismal chapter. I really don't like it at all, but I had to post something! And before I get yelled at for 'Inflicting the public with something that even I don't like, I should be ashamed myself!', let me plead my my case! I've been working on another fic that I've decided I will write at least four chapters on my computer before publishing any of them. That way I don't have this problem. I have been devoting most of my concentration to that other fic, wich is why I'm convinced this one is so shoddy.

Well, it doesn't really matter what I think, so... What was that? Sorry, I can't hear you. Please, speak up!