He-LLO! Welcome, my darling readers! Thank you to laissankari, Stephanied473, and Maiannaise for their awesome reviews! I love you wonderful people and hope you inspire your fellow readers to send me reviews as well! I know this chapter is quite a bit shorter than the last one, but I couldn't think of a better spot to stop this chapter, especially since J.K. Rowling stopped there in the book. Please read and review! Enjoy!

-Owlix

Chapter Seven: They Are Coming

Going back to the party after Scrimgeour left was a bit awkward since everyone wanted to know what had happened and our inheritances were passed around the table, but we soon got over it and had a decent time. After a while, we all knew the party was long over and cleaned everything up before heading to bed. I watched Harry whisper something to Hermione, but I refused to listen in. Later on that night, I noticed Hermione leave in the middle of the night, but again, I refused to question it. Part of the talk Harry and I had before about his leaving was that I specifically ignore anything the three of them do that seemed out of place; Harry reasoned that the less I knew, the safer I'd be.

The next day was The Big Day – Bill and Fleur's wedding! I'll admit I was pretty excited, but I'd never been to a wedding before so I didn't know what to expect. Hermione, Ginny, and I spent the day helping Mrs. Weasley, Fleur, and Madame Delacour get everything where it needed to be. The two mothers were, understandably, emotional wrecks, but Fleur was surprisingly unflappable.

"I am a quarter Veela," she told me when I asked her about it as I helped her into her dress. "Veelas mate for life – when zey find Ze One, zat is. Many magical creatures are ze same way – werewolves, vampires, mermaids, 'ippogriffs ... and Beel is Ze One for me!"

"You're very lucky, Fleur," I said quietly as I tied her sash.

"Why?" Fleur asked, turning around gracefully to look me in the eye. "Because I 'ave found Ze One and you do not sink you will find Ze One?"

I simply shook my head, knowing that if I spoke even a little, I'd cry and ruin my makeup.

I was surprised when Fleur took my face in her hands. She stared at me intensely for a moment before gently planting a kiss on my forehead.

"You will find 'im, cherie!" she said fervently. "It weel take a while, but 'e is waiting for you. I can feel it!"

Trying to not get too convinced, I simply gave her a smile and a nod of thanks. She sighed a little but smiled back and kissed my cheeks.

"Now," she said crisply, "let's get zis tiara on me before ze awful Muriel shows up again ..."

"I have no problem with that!" I said, giggling slightly as I hurried to fetch the moonstone-studded tiara from where it had been placed earlier. Muriel Prewett was truly was an awful woman – constantly badgering and sniping at everyone, putting everyone down, and never shutting up! I'd had to almost literally kick her out before she and Fleur came to blows over how to wear the darn tiara! Besides, she had no right to tell someone how bad they looked when she herself resembled a bad-tempered flamingo in that appalling pink feathered hat!

Around three-thirty, Hermione and I had taken care of all our responsibilities and changed into our dress robes. She wore a rather daring red chiffon ruffle dress while I wore a sleek gold-and-green silk organza number. After I'd helped her with her makeup and done mine, she offered to help with my hair. She sleeked it all back and pinned it in a tight bun at the base of my skull. After adding a jewelled choker laced with protection charms and some magical earrings that would help me hear properly, I was ready to face the guns. Hermione and I walked out arm-in-arm, smiling as we were met with rather astonished looks.

"Wow ..." Ron gasped, blinking rapidly as we walked up. "You look great!"

"Always the tone of surprise," Hermione smirked, knowing Ron's gaze was all for her. "Your Great-Aunt Muriel doesn't agree, I just met her upstairs while she was giving Fleur the tiara. She said, 'Oh dear, is this the Muggle-born?' and then, 'Bad posture and skinny ankles.'"

"She said I looked with a leopard with all my 'spots,'" I chuckled, gesturing to my many freckles.

Fred and George came over and started commiserating with us about how batty Muriel was and talking about their late Uncle Bilius. They made us laugh so hard that we didn't see Viktor Krum until he was literally right next to us.

"You look vunderful," he said to Hermione, his dark eyes soft and warm as he looked at her.

"Viktor!" she shrieked, dropping the dark-colored beaded bag she'd taken out with her. I noticed the sound it made when it landed was quite disproportionate to its size but ignored it in favour of giving Viktor a warm welcome. Harry and I offered to show him to his seat to avoid Ron having a temper tantrum in front of the guests.

"Your friend is not pleased to see me," Krum said lowly. "Or is he a relative?" he asked, noting the red hair Harry and I both shared. It was part of Harry's disguise to change him into a rather portly redhead and pass him off as a Weasley cousin named Barney.

"Distant cousin," I said, remembering that Ron actually was third cousin to Harry and me through our paternal grandmother, Dorea Black. I'd done a bit of genealogical research into the Potter line at Grimmauld Place last Christmas and found quite a lot of fun information.

While others in the crowd were vying for a closer look at the famous Quidditch player, Harry and I were rescued by Fred, George, Ron, and Hermione.

"Time to sit down," Fred said.

"Or we're going to get run over by the bride," George quipped, making Harry and me grin as we took our seats in the second row behind the Weasley family.

A few minutes later, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came up the aisle, waving to family members. They were followed by the dapper-looking pair of Bill and Charlie, who were wearing dress robes with large white roses in the button holes. I winced slightly at the sight of the roses; I'd been taught that white roses symbolized "a heart devoid of love", which was definitely not a good theme for a wedding.

"Oooooh!" Hermione gasped, having spun around in her seat to see the bride coming in.

Fleur looked absolutely stunning in her very simple white dress and goblin-made tiara. The silvery glow that normally surrounded her was much stronger today, and instead of making everyone look more common, it made everyone look more beautiful. As she passed us, Hermione's hair looked sleeker and shinier and her eyes glowed with delight. When Fleur reached Bill, it almost seemed as if he'd never gotten mauled by Fenrir Greyback.

The ceremony itself was quite beautiful, but certain phrases – like "bonded for life", for example – rubbed me up the wrong way, probably because I was used to hearing about Muggle wedding ceremonies. I'd have to do some serious research if I ever decided to get married.

As the man directing the ceremony waved his wand over the newlyweds, silver sparks erupted from his wand and spiralled around their entwined fingers, magically binding them together. As Fred and George applauded, the golden balloons above Bill and Fleur burst, revealing birds of paradise and tiny golden bells that sang the twins' congratulations on the new couple.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" the tufty-haired wizard called. "If you would please stand up!"

When we did so, he waved his wand again, making the seats hover and the canvas walls of the marquee vanish. With another wave, a molten-gold dance floor appeared, followed by tables that were quickly surrounded by the previously-hovering chairs.

"Smooth," Ron said approvingly as the waiters popped in, offering pumpkin juice, butterbeer, firewhiskey, tarts, and sandwiches. Not wanting to spoil anything, I took a small glass of pumpkin juice and sipped carefully as Harry and I tried to find a seat with Ron and Hermione. We found one next to Luna, who left as soon as she heard a song she liked. Ron and Hermione soon followed her to dance together, and I was pleasantly surprised when a friendly cousin of Fleur's asked me to dance. He introduced himself as Henri (he pronounced it "on-REE") and he was actually quite charming, at first. As the dance wore on, though, he became quite full of himself and horribly arrogant. I managed to step on his toes quite a lot over the course of that one dance – by accident, of course.

After that disaster, I danced with Viktor (who was quiet but kind, telling me that I looked lovely), Fred and George (who insisted on dancing with me at the same time), Charlie (who kept asking me if my skirt was Common Welsh Green hide), and Hagrid (who had me stand on his feet to dance with him). I wanted to go and ask Harry for a dance, but one, he was technically supposed to be hiding, and two, he'd told me before that he hated dancing because he felt he looked like a fool. I wasn't terribly good at dancing, either, due to a slight rhythm problem, but I could still follow a guy's lead and have a good time! After a while, I noticed he was looking quite pale and went to sit down next to him.

"I simply can't dance anymore," I groaned, slipping off one of my shoes to rub my foot. "It's a bit odd, I've just seen Viktor storming away from Luna's father, it looked like they'd been arguing ... are you okay, Harry? You don't look too good."

Harry looked up at me and flinched slightly, as if he was reminded of something awful.

"Harry?" I asked quietly, taking my twin's hand.

Harry squeezed my hand tightly before blurting out, "Dumbledore had a Squib sister ... and they locked her up in the cellar!"

I felt a horrible chill run down my spine as I gaped at Harry.

"Muriel said Squibs were normally shipped off to Muggle schools," Harry said, sounding like he was choking on something, "but Dumbledore's mum was too proud to send Ariana away. She never left the house until the day of her funeral, Rissie!"

I said nothing, simply clutching Harry's hands for dear life as I leaned my forehead against his and tried to not cry at the idea of an innocent girl being locked in a cellar and subjected to who-knows-what additional abuse. I couldn't believe Dumbledore allowed that kind of cruelty to happen to his own sister, but at the same time, it would definitely explain how he refused to help Harry and me. During his visit to Privet Drive last summer, he'd lectured the Dursleys on how they'd treated Harry and me, all but admitting that he at least had an idea of what we were going through and risked disciplinary action by not doing anything about it. Granted, there's no law in England requiring him to do anything like there is in America, but since he works with kids, he has a responsibility for keeping all of his students safe and should be reporting any concern!

I was shaken out of my melancholy thoughts by a familiar streak of silvery-white light falling through the canopy over the dance floor. It took the graceful form of a lynx, which landed in the midst of the crowd and spoke loudly in Kingsley Shacklebolt's slow, deep voice.

"The Ministry has fallen," it said.

...

"Scrimgeour is dead," it continued.

...

...

"They are coming."