Chapter Ten - Tea Time

The fire damage done to Hagrid's house had been more than repaired. It looked to be a complete rebuild, noted Harry, using field stone. Moss grew over most of it already, undoubtedly assisted by a little magic. The house looked somewhat larger as well, though still cozy when one considered the occupant. Harry knocked on the massive door. The sound of Fang's deep barking reminded him of happier times. The panel covering a small window in the door slid open and a large eye peered out.

"It's me, Hagrid," called Harry.

"So it is, so it is," said Hagrid. The little window closed and the great door opened. "Come in an' set a while."

Harry stepped through the door and was surprised by how cluttered the little house was already. He noted the furnishings. Some were clearly made by hand for a very large person, but others were obviously old but very posh pieces that only needed the odd leg and some lashing to be usable. It occurred to Harry that Hagrid might either know of or have stumbled across the Room of Requirement. "This is nice Hagrid. Stone too - you're not going to hatch any more dragons?"

"Nah. But I do have some ashwinder eggs fer next term." Hagrid sighed, "I tell yeh, I do miss ol' Norbert at times. Grawpy helped me build this place. He's a bit clumsy with an axe but he's good with stones."

Harry walked around the room. He could see the extra space on the outside was separated into a storage or work room by thick stone walls and an iron-reinforced door. A perfect breeding shed for skrewts, mused Harry. The door was open, and when he looked in Harry noticed two things. The first were the huge stone slabs that made up a table and bench, obviously sized for Hagrid's brother, that were visible through the iron bars of the back window. The second was Bitters Savage, laid out on a wooden table, with his wand and the arrow that killed him next to his chest. The blood that soaked his shirt had gone dark and his open eyes stared glassily. The horror and panic of seeing the arrows in flight and watching Ron and Bitters fall swept over Harry, and his knees went weak. He might have fell, but Hagrid had him by his back collar.

"I should'n'a left that open. 'Ere now, let's get some tea in yeh. Maybe a bit o' a bracer as well," said Hagrid as he easily hefted Harry into a chair.

v - v - v - v - v

Long, pallid fingers stroked the ancient carved wood that was the arm of the chair. It was pleasing to the touch. All the furnishings in the room were like this. The wall hangings and draperies were made of rich fabrics in harmonious colors. The scented candles mixed with the smell of oiled leather and old books for a heady perfume. The whole of the room saturated the senses and was almost sensuous. Little wonder there was a lack of ambition for more, thought the man. He was far more than just a man, but at the same time it was clear he was not quite all man. It was the flatness of the nose and slit-like nostrils, and the red glow of his eyes, that showed it. There was a quiet knock on the door.

"Enter," said the man.

A wizard in dark green robes entered and knelt on one knee in front of the black-clad man. "My Lord," said the wizard. "The Ministry has sent a message." He took a small envelope with a ornate red wax seal from a robe pocket and presented it.

"Leave it," said the man gesturing to the table, "and leave me."

"At once," said the wizard. He placed the envelope on the table and hurried away.

The man, known to his followers as Lord Voldemort, regarded the envelope thoughtfully. His minions had successfully raided Hogwarts, and all had gone according to the wild plan in that regard. He had been surprised by Lucius' son's success in opening the breach. The fact that the boy had faltered in the end was of no consequence save to point out the weaknesses of his Death Eaters. By all accounts, the whole of the operation was nearly stymied, again, by mere students and it cost him more of his Death Eaters. They had even managed to kill that old fool Dumbledore, but an ounce of effort on Dumbeldore's part would have ended the raid quickly. There was more to this than he could see. The betrayal by Severus carried the day, in the end.

The problem, thought the Dark Lord, was his followers had grown too satisfied laying low in polite society, or too weak, in power or mind, in prison. He needed new recruits, ones who understood that their power gave them dominion over those without and who understood that combining their power with his would increase their own dominance.

But he had discovered, in clandestine meetings with promising candidates, that very few shared his craving for control as power. The young wizards he spoke to were strong magically, and they used that power viciously against their rivals - their rivals for members of the opposite sex. The power this young blood desired was in reality mere wealth. They would gladly buy the subservience of others that he, Lord Voldemort, expected due to respect and fear alone. The lust in their eyes for power, for wealth, was particularly noticeable when the meetings were here at the Malfoy Manor. It was a disappointment, and a lesson. Threats became bribes and gratuities; hush money became salary and retainers. Betrayal and disloyalty, smiled Lord Voldemort, was still paid back with agonizing pain and even death.

The money first came from the Malfoy fortune. Madame Malfoy had not been reticent about it in the least, which, the Dark Lord knew, meant there was more hidden somewhere else. It did not matter, as the collections from the shop-owners exceeded the need at the moment. The web this money wove could widen rapidly. Lord Voldemort could see how Lucius had gotten to where he had been, and how to go further. Proof of that lay in the envelope on the table. Sources in the Ministry suggested an offer to talk of power-sharing might be made. It was pathetic that the time the Ministry would choose to offer a kind of surrender was before the actual attack.

His thoughts were interrupted by a tentative knock at the door. "My Lord," called the quavering voice of a house-elf. "Will you take tea?" The Dark Lord opened the door with a flick of his wand.

"Yes. Bring Madame Malfoy here, and a setting for her."

"At once, master!" squeaked the house-elf, who then disappeared with a pop.

I must know, thought Lord Voldemort, how that is done in spite of the wards. The idea of learning anything from something as repulsive as a simpering house-elf would have been unimaginable a year ago. But his concern with blood purity had begun to wane. It was not just the inconvenient circumstances of his own origins. He had begun to think of himself as having transcended blood anyway and become a being composed of magic. No, it was the practical matter that the most promising potential recruits were only a generation or two from muggle-born blood. These, he found, chafed at the restrictions on magic use and resented the muggle world because of it. They wanted the wealth they believed was power, and they were willing to take it. It would require little, smiled the Dark Lord, to make them see people as a currency to be spent as well.

Another knock on the door revealed the lovely Narcissa Malfoy, although more of the loveliness came from a jar these days, and a house-elf carrying a tray. He could feel the fizz of her nervous worry in the air without the need for a spell. He had taken much from her and she had given the rest freely. It was time to reward her.

"My Lord," greeted Narcissa dropping to her knees. "You wished to see me?"

"Yes," purred Lord Voldemort, revealing unnaturally pointed teeth. "Please have some tea. It is time we made plans to free Lucius."

v - v - v - v - v

Gabrielle would have brought the tea to the sitting room, but she couldn't handle the tray with her hand bandaged. So she brought the plates of biscuits, crackers, and cheese out to the kitchen table one by one. It had been a surprising discovery, but Gabrielle had found what looked and smelled like a wheel of Brie in the cold storage. She was bringing that out when Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and Hermione entered.

"I'll just make us some tea..." said Mrs. Weasley before noticing the spread on the table and a smiling Gabrielle. "Oh! You are a dear."

"Er, you might want to try a sip first," suggested Ginny. "She likes it strong."

"I made ze tea as you said," huffed Gabrielle. Really, did she have to bring that up?

Mrs. Weasley poured the cups of tea. Ginny made a show of sniffing and handling the tea suspiciously, like it was an unknown potion, before taking a small sip. She screwed up her face as if she had bitten a lemon, causing Gabrielle a moment's panic, before smiling.

"Hey, it's not bad," said Ginny. Gabrielle made a face at her.

"It's a lovely tea," praised Mrs. Weasley.

"How are Harry and Ron?" asked Gabrielle. She offered the plate of biscuits to each person like her Maman always did.

"Ron is up and about already - Madame Pomfrey is a wonder. Harry had a button or something stuck in him. He had left for the library so he wasn't badly off," replied Mrs. Weasley.

"Did Ron say what happened?" asked Gabrielle. In her role as hostess, it was her job to get conversations started. It's what Maman did when she hosted lunches or dinners. It didn't take much - Maman served wine.

"Ron couldn't say much. They were just getting into the forest when they heard the centaurs come up. That auror, Savage, had gone ahead. When they caught up to him he was already arguing with the centaurs. Ron says Savage cursed one of the centaurs, and then the arrow hit him," explained Mrs. Weasley. She added in a strangled voice, "If Harry hadn't shoved him, Ron would be dead."

"But we don't know how he and Harry got away. Ron remembers moving pretty fast at some point after being hit, but he wasn't sure if he was on a broom or not," complained Ginny.

"This is my fault. I should have been there to keep them out of trouble," said Hermione suddenly. "I've flown on brooms before - I just let myself get carried away."

"Oh please," said Ginny with exasperation. "I'm sure the centaurs would have been right pleased to see you again after bringing Umbridge to them."

"Ah, er, right. I had forgotten about that. Still..." began Hermione.

"And if Harry pushed Ron out of the way, who would have pushed you?" asked Ginny. Hermione didn't seem to have an answer for that, but looked like she would think of one. Gabrielle put some crackers on her plate and cut open the wheel of cheese with a knife. It smelled absolutely delicious and was nicely ripe, but it was also light green inside.

"Eh, what is zis cheese?" asked Gabrielle staring at the wedge she at cut.

Mrs. Weasley turned the plate with the wheel back and forth. "I can't say I recognize it at all. Wherever did you get it from?"

"It was in ze storage cold. I zought it was Brie," replied Gabrielle.

"I know a couple of cheeses with veins of green, but none that are green through and through," offered Hermione. Gabrielle poked at the cheese experimentally with the knife.

"It's probably gone bad. I hope it's not one of those creeping slime things you hear about from Asia," said Mrs. Weasley.

"More likely it's a Fred and George prank gone wrong," asserted Ginny. Gabrielle managed to scoop some up with her knife, and sniffed it. Too bad it was the wrong color. It seemed like a very good cheese, and she was hungry. "Put that in your mouth, Beebee, and I'll hit you!"

"What?" asked Gabrielle looking up from her scrutiny of the cheese.

"Gabrielle - tell me you aren't thinking of eating that!" scolded Hermione. "Try to be sensible."

"I was not!" exclaimed Gabrielle. "Eh, I was not going to eat it. I am sensible also." On the other hand, thought Gabrielle, if George and Fred left it for her they would be disappointed.

"It's obviously been tampered with. If Fred and George were involved, then something has gone wrong. There's no telling what the effects might be," said Hermione. "It could even be poisonous."

That, thought Gabrielle, was really stretching it. The twins were like, like, like craftsmen! Of a sort. They tested things many times, and on themselves as well. At least they said they did. If they did that, then, wondered Gabrielle, why was the cheese green? A seed of an idea began to grow. But first there was a distraction.

"Why are you calling her Beebee?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

"Everybody calls her Beebee," shrugged Ginny.

"Zey do not!"

"The twins call her that. So do Fleur and Tonks," explained Ginny.

"Fred calls me zat only, and I do not want any of zem to call me zat," complained Gabrielle.

"But what does it mean?" asked the Weasley mother.

"It means zey are being mean to me," pouted Gabrielle. "You should make zem stop."

"It sounds like initials, like it's short for something," persisted Mrs. Weasley. "Is it something rude, or just harmless?"

"Do you know, Gabrielle?" asked Hermione. Gabrielle gave Hermione a look intended to convey how stupid she was if she thought any information would be coming from her. It was apparent to Gabrielle that Hermione was socially backward when Hermione added, "You ate some of that cheese, didn't you? And now your stomach hurts."

Gabrielle rolled her eyes. "No. I did not. Ze cheese is fine, I zink." Better to argue about the cheese, thought Gabrielle, then that stupid name.

"Beebee. Bee bee. Bee.." mused Ginny. "Ha! I get it now. It's from..."

"Mrs. Weasley! Please make zem stop," begged Gabrielle.

"Unless it's something rude, it'll be for you girls to settle, dear," said Mrs. Weasley. She glared, "It is not rude, is it?"

"Nah. It's short for Blond Bludger, that's all. Something George called her," said Ginny.

"He did not," said Gabrielle uncertainly. She had the sinking feeling that she was wrong. So much had happened to her that she couldn't be sure.

"He did. It was when you were telling us about the Skele-Gro," reminded Ginny. "And now it's not such a big deal - I can see it on your face. Ha!" Ginny looked quite pleased with herself, Gabrielle thought, with that annoying smirk on her face. Even if it was George that had called her that first, he didn't call her that now. In fact, he always said her name properly and knowing that made her feel a little better. Ginny continued, "That's the most puffskein-love thing I've seen since..."

"Since the summer after Ron's first year, when you hounded him with questions about Harry?" interrupted Mrs. Weasley. Ginny went to say something, but stopped.

"You must be nice, or I will not help," warned Gabrielle. It wasn't like she was constantly mooning over George.

"I am being nice. You need to see that we all like the Blond Bludger in you. The twins love that you'll try their pranks. We don't need another overgrown fairy flitting around complaining about everything," said Ginny. Gabrielle looked at the cheese.

"But not that prank," said Hermione, noticing.

"I zink the cheese is, eh, good to eat. Zey want people to zink it is bad. It is a... a prank, eh, prank," concluded Gabrielle. She spread some of the cheese on a cracker, and smiled.

"Is this like your idea that Sirius would come back as his dead brother so no one would notice him?" asked Ginny.

"So the joke is that there is no joke?" asked Hermione. "I don't see how that is a reasonable conclusion. Maybe something off about the cheese that was just enough to make someone suspicious could work like that, but it's completely green inside."

"Eh, perhaps... perhaps if it is too little, you may not notice it unless you, eh, expect it?" suggested Gabrielle.

"A weird color outside, maybe. But not inside," said Ginny.

"Forget the cheese for now, dear. Madame Pomfrey has her hands full right now, and wouldn't be here to help," advised Mrs. Weasley. She stood. "I'll get another pot."

"But, how will zey know we know zeir trick, if ze cheese is not eaten?" asked Gabrielle after Mrs. Weasley left.

"I'll vanish it, and you can say you ate it, all right? Honestly, it's not worth taking the chance," declared Hermione.

Gabrielle looked shocked. "But zat will be cheating!" she blurted.

"What? How'd you figure that? They used magic to ruin perfectly good cheese, and I'll use magic to get rid of ruined cheese. It's green inside!" said Hermione in exasperation.

"It's no use Hermione," said Ginny shaking her head. "She's going to try the cheese. Beebee's been planning on it ever since Fred and George were brought up."

"We can't let her. What if it isn't the twins work?" asked Hermione.

"It's up to her. But if she does eat it, I'm going to make sure she eats that whole wedge," warned Ginny. She challenged, "So how about that, Beebee?"

"Fine. I did not have anyzing for lunch anyway," said Gabrielle. She was sure there was nothing wrong with the Brie, except for the color. But now that Ginny had pushed her, a bit of doubt started to edge its way into her mind. It was too obviously a prank to be a real prank - that seemed logical. Unless it was a prank prank-prank. The problem, Gabrielle's second thoughts noted, was that she didn't really know if the twins were responsible for the cheese. It could be, the thoughts continued, that she was about to poison herself. And certainly humiliate herself, if she was wrong.

Hermione noticed her hesitation and said, "That's right, er, Beebee. It's better to back down now than be sorry later."

That stiffened her resolve. She waved her bandaged arm. "I will need help wiz ze crackers."

"I still think this is a bad idea," said Hermione.

Ginny pulled Gabrielle's plate to her, "I'll do it." She made a show of cutting thick slabs and of spreading them onto the crackers. The further delay caused Gabrielle's determination to ebb again, and she wondered what had happened to Mrs. Weasley. Surely Mrs. Weasley would be back to confiscate it?

"There you go," smiled Ginny. She whispered, "You know, I wouldn't tell Fred or George you chickened out..."

Gabrielle stared at the slabs of slightly oozy green on the crackers. Should she do it, she wondered? If it was George and Fred and she was wrong, it would be embarrassing now and until Ginny stopped talking about it. If it was something else, well, she had had her stomach stretched up out of her mouth and turned inside out before. That wasn't something you could forget, really.

So, Gabrielle thought, she could be right and not be hungry, which the scent of the Brie was making her. Or she could be wrong, turned into a squid or something, and teased endlessly. Fleur would find out and be mad again too. She could also be wrong and be in agony in hospital. Maman would have to be told, and her future would be over. The smart move, Gabrielle thought, would be to stop now and take the taunting. And yet, then she would never know.

Gabrielle smiled. The cheese was evenly green. Perfectly even. There was no way that something could grow in cheese and be that uniform. It was the twins. Before her determination faded again, Gabrielle popped one of the Brie-covered crackers into her mouth, closed her eyes, and chewed. The flavor lived up to the aroma, and the flavor of this Brie was stunning. It was like Gaston's coffee - her senses were overwhelmed and she could almost see and smell picturesque dairy farms set among green, rolling hills where the scent of hoof-trodden damp earth mingled with the sweet aroma of fresh milk. She could practically feel the cool dryness of dark caves that hinted of mushrooms. Without opening her eyes, Gabrielle fumbled to find another cracker to eat so she wouldn't lose the sensation. Gabrielle was just finishing the fourth portion when the Weasley kitchen came back to the fore. Ginny was laughing at her and Hermione was waving her hands in front of Gabrielle's face. Gabrielle reached for another cheese laden cracker and saw her hand. "Merde," she sighed.

v - v - v - v - v

Whatever Hagrid had put in the tea, thought Harry, was working. He felt a lot calmer, and warmer too. He could push the image of Savage laying on the table out of his head, and did so. "Hagrid?" asked Harry, "How bad off were the centaurs anyway? They've sent for Firenze you know."

"Did they now? Grawpy an' me didn't stay long. Weren't exactly welcome right 'bout then. Magorian and Bane were gone, could see that. Loads o' bad breaks on the others from what Grawpy could see," replied Hagrid.

"So Magorian and Bane survived then?"

"Uh, I meant gone in a mortal coil sort o' way."

"Oh." The warmth of a moment ago was gone, and Harry felt cold again. "But the others will heal, right?" asked Harry hopefully.

Hagrid shifted uneasily. "Tha's a hard one. Centaurs are intell'gent and all, but the legs o' a horse are the legs o' a horse. An' when a horse's leg breaks, well... Very prone to blood infections, when they break." He pushed a plate of treacle tarts over to Harry.

"But you could help them, right?" asked Harry desperately. He took a tart automatically, but his clenching stomach wouldn't let him even try to eat the crockery-hard pastry.

"I could, if they were teh ask. Too much pride for their own good, seems ter me."

The plans, thought Harry, that he and Ron had come up with over the summer seemed like delusions now. The very first step had been stumble of catastrophic proportions. He had killed three people, possibly more would die, and one part of him wanted to retch in horror. Another part of him pointed out that he wasn't the one who shot Savage with an arrow, and that Magorian and Bane had tried to kill him first. The first part wondered if he hadn't complained to Bitters and hexed the auror would Savage have still been so rude to the centaurs, or if they hadn't hurried would they have arrived after the centaurs had gone to bed? The second part of Harry remembered trying to warn Bitters off, and that he only used his wand after Savage and the centaurs had struck. A third part of Harry noted that he wouldn't even get in trouble since the centaurs had killed Savage and, according to the Ministry, centaurs were beasts.

Harry put down the tea and shook his head. Whatever was in the tea was obviously working too well. It was time to find Ron and get out of here.

v - v - v - v - v

Lord Voldemort finished his cup of tea in solitude. The beautiful Narcissa was pleasant enough company, but too vapid to maintain interesting conversation. She took the dismissal well, eager as she was to begin her role in freeing Lucius. The Malfoys were paired well - Lucius was a careful plotter and a slippery foe, while Narcissa was a fountain of gossip and knew who wanted what. The two would be useful to him if he decided to accept the Ministry's expected proposal.

The idea of carving out an autonomous region was an intriguing one. If he was willing to accept a remote location it could possibly be cleared of filthy muggles altogether. Or he could push for an area closer to London. There would be muggles there, for a time at least, but there would be more wizarding families under his control. He rather liked the idea of a safe haven. He would never, of course, just hand one to a foe.

The Dark Lord's long fingers swirled the cup with its dregs and then upended it onto the saucer. He never saw much in the tea leaves anyway, but one might as well look. The lost prophecy still was an impediment. The Potter brat needed to be dealt with carefully. That was a lot easier with Dumbledore killed. The deal Potter had made with the Ministry helped too. By working with the aurors, the Ministry could keep a closer watch on Potter, as could the spies in the Ministry.

It could have all been over a few days from now, considered the Dark Lord, except for the issue of the wands. It was obvious now that Ollivander had been too optimistic about finding that South American phoenix. Too optimistic, or too devious. Without a new wand he could not risk facing Potter, who seemed to have the luck of the devil himself. The raid on the Weasley wedding would humiliate the blood traitors, but would do nothing to end the prophecy. Potter would be there, without a doubt, but the circumstances would not be overwhelmingly against him. An additional consideration was the Ministry's potential offer. If it was promising, the whole of the attack would be postponed. Couldn't back-stab my new colleagues my first day on the backbench, laughed Voldemort darkly.

No, thought Lord Voldemort, the Chinese puzzle-box enchantment combined with a port-key would provide the subterfuge needed to capture Potter again. The plan to free Lucius would provide a test of the scheme. Narcissa's task was to trade whatever favors needed to smuggle the barely magical pieces to her husband. Once assembled, Lucius would be transported here. In all likelihood.

The tea leaves took the form, if one squinted, of a bowler hat. Or perhaps a sauce pan - he got a lot of those. Divination was dragon dung, sneered the Dark Lord. Yet it was the one thing that held him back from seizing the world.

Lord Voldemort pushed the tea service away and rubbed his temples with the heel of his hands. His head still throbbed a bit from last night's headache. Hopefully Severus had found a suitable location and supplies for a potions lab. The man had wasted too many weeks mourning the loss of his Hogwarts lab and papers. A good tonic for headache would soothe him before the Ministry meeting. It would be best not to strike the idiots down right off.

Thinking of Severus Snape made the Dark Lord think of Dumbledore again, and his other concern. Dumbledore had discovered his secret. Lucius allowed the Diary to be destroyed, and the Dark Lord had recognized the Ring that Snape had described. It had ruined the old wizard's hand; it was likely Dumbledore's search had produced the weakness that led to his death. Oddly, it did seem like Dumbledore had told no one else, not even Potter, or surely his spies at the Ministry or his potions master would have heard of it. But if there was a record of the old mage's find...

His beloved Nagini was near, and he had sent Wormtail to Romania secretly to fetch the Cup. Lord Voldemort would have preferred to send the far more formidable and, frankly, competent Severus for it, but with constant instruction Wormtail would do. When the time came, thought the Dark Lord, it would be his Hand retrieving it anyway. That left only the Locket, and the other, to check on, but the Locket was near enough for him to examine personally and, perhaps, add another layer of protection.

Now, considered Lord Voldemort, the Ministry meeting. It would have to be near midnight, and someplace suitably sinister. Fear was a powerful magic in itself.

v - v - v - v - v

Gabrielle peeked around the old family clock behind the sofa. It was a bit pathetic, she admitted to herself, to be hiding again. But there was only so much of being laughed at that she could take. Besides, if she didn't get out of Ginny's sight it was possible that Ginny would run out of breath and collapse. Also, she did not need lectures on judgment and proper behavior from someone with no tan lines, and told Hermione so. Hermione went pink with embarrassment, then red with anger, and Ginny fell off her chair. Gabrielle grabbed the last of the spread Brie then and fled.

Gabrielle looked at her hand. It was still green. Or greens. It was difficult to say if it had faded at all as the weird blobs of darker and lighter greens crawled across her skin. She had lifted her shirt in front of the mirror in Ginny's room. The shifting, mottled coloring was almost hypnotic, really. She didn't find it particularly funny though, and she hoped it would be gone by dinner.

Gabrielle had a new wish she had added to her long list. She stroked the silky cloak she was under. She wanted, no - needed, an invisibility cloak. Hermione and Ginny were out looking for her; Hermione had already looked behind the sofa. All Gabrielle had to do to avoid detection was to scrunch up in the back corner, and not breathe, when Hermione's glowing wand lit up the dark recess. If she had a cloak like this, much drama at home could be avoided. She smiled at the thought of asking Papa for one. Gabrielle knew he would agree if she asked in a certain way. Papa would get as far as Maman in his quests. She would set him straight, then glare at her and Fleur for days after.

Gabrielle heard the front door open, and adjusted the angle of the clock face. To her surprise, it was Mr. Weasley who stepped into the entry hall. Mr. Weasley barely made it home by the evening meal, usually. He was followed in by one of the twins. Through the gauzy film of the cloak she couldn't tell if it were George or Fred. There was definitely only the one though. Gabrielle had never seen them apart before. Mrs. Weasley met them and herded them into the kitchen.

Gabrielle was mulling over the idea of trying to sneak into the kitchen, and the problem of closed doors, when Crookshanks' ginger-furred face peered down into the gap behind the sofa and above the clock. Gabrielle startled but managed to stifle her surprise. Crookshanks dropped to the ground, stepped liquidly around the broken clock, and sat staring into Gabrielle's eyes.

"Eh, hello Crookshanks," whispered Gabrielle. Go away, she thought, please. Crookshanks twitched his tail. "I, eh, am hiding until I am not green." Gabrielle hoped he would not demand chicken right now. There was no way to get some, and Hermione would probably hear him.

Crookshanks seemed to ignore her, and began to purr. He climbed onto her back and walked the length of her body before returning to climb onto her head. His weight pressed her chin to the floor. What, wondered Gabrielle, does this mean? What does he want? She lay still, with the cat sitting on her head, for a minute or two, waiting. It did not seem like Crookshanks wanted anything in particular save to be difficult, thought Gabrielle. He would give her away, for certain, like this though. Anyone who looked in would see Crookshanks sitting in mid-air.

"Eh, Crookshanks... zis is not, eh, nice," mumbled Gabrielle. Talking with her chin on the floor made her head shake. Crookshanks responded by digging his claws into her scalp. "No, no. It is the cloak of Harry," whispered Gabrielle desperately. Crookshanks hopped off of her head and she retreated further. Her fingers found wetness when she massaged her scalp. Gabrielle hoped very much that the cloak was not damaged. She certainly couldn't fix it and no one would hold the cat responsible.

"Please, I can not get ze chicken for you now," explained Gabrielle. Crookshanks just stared at her. Gabrielle wondered if the cat did understand, or was she just imagining last time.

A distraction came when Ginny and either George and Fred came in and dropped onto the sofa. Crookshanks suddenly hissed and shot from Gabrielle's hiding spot out into the entry hall, then he disappeared.

"So where's the other half?" asked Ginny. "Did you close the shop early?"

"No. Dad's arranging yours truly as the Order's exalted escort for Ron and Harry. Once there are enough curlicues in the plan, of course. George'll close up - he's taking Matty out later anyway," explained Fred.

Gabrielle swallowed hard. Of course George would have a real life outside the Burrow, thought Gabrielle. One she was not part of. He and Fred lived over their shop, not here with... the children.

"Really? I thought he said once a week was enough of her," said Ginny.

"Yeah, well... I just hinted to her that he was expecting her," said Fred. "She took it from there." Gabrielle thought this Matty sounded unpleasantly forward.

"Why? Is it a set-up?"

"I take great offense at the implication," said Fred in a hurt voice. He continued normally, "I just think that adult company away from bad influences would be good for him."

"Bad influences? The only way George could get away from bad influences is if you and he split," laughed Ginny.

"I am talking about bad influences that turn your dear brother's mind to porridge and will suck his soul leaving him a Confunded empty husk!" snapped Fred.

"Er, right. Should have remembered those influences. Can't just leave those lying around. I'll get a broom."

"I'm serious," said Fred more calmly. "You saw him this morning. George could barely stand after she was pried off him. It has to stop." Gabrielle caught her breath. What did he mean, she wondered.

There was nothing for a long moment, then Ginny asked, "Are you talking about Beebee? Little Beebee is your soul-sucking bad influence?" Ginny burst out laughing, which peeved Gabrielle. I am part-Veela, she thought.

"She's a right menace. We need to keep her away from George." Gabrielle was dumbfounded. She knew she had completely embarrassed herself this morning, but if anyone should be mad it should be George. Who was Fred, thought Gabrielle angrily, to say such things? She moved Fred to the top of the list of people to set fire to.

"You've got your own fan-girl following too, you know," declared Ginny.

"Oh? And where are they on laundry day?"

"You didn't notice that girl in the shop the other day - curly brown hair, 'FR' on one eyelid and 'ED' on the other? She was trying to get you to look into her eyes and see the depths of her passion."

"You're kidding, right?" asked Fred incredulously.

"Work on a smoldering gaze and half the girls in the shop would faint. George could handle the other half!" laughed Ginny.

"Smoldering gaze? You've been reading Mum's sappy novels again," said Fred with a sneer.

"It's a normal, young schoolgirl crush." said Ginny defensively.

"Exactly. What is she - eight or something? Beebee should be playing with fairies or the like. Not ambushing George." Fred now occupies the first and second spots on the list, thought Gabrielle.

"Are you sure you're not Confunded? I really think George can withstand Beebee's feminine wiles. He deals with Matty all right, and she has considerably more feminine, er, feminine wiles."

"Maybe. But if you had to smell that ruddy awful muggle coffee he concocted in case you brought her round, or had to put up with him tearing around the shop after drinking half of it, well, you would start to wonder if he's gone daft too," asserted Fred.

"Muggle coffee?" wondered Ginny.

"And, I found him wrapping up a box for her. I asked if it was more prototypes, and do you know what he said? He said, 'No. Just something I thought she might like.'" Gabrielle, who had been trying to work out which part of her was her wiles, perked up.

"Well, she has had a bit of a rough patch here. He's doing his part for Weasley-Delacour relations."

"This is George we're talking about here. He dated that Belinda for a year and never thought of giving her anything. He had trouble remembering her name. And..."

"He gives Matty things," Ginny interrupted.

"No - she asks for them. And, he was reading a book on learning conversational French." declared Fred.

"All right, now you're starting to scare me," conceded Ginny. "But... maybe he just wants to chat up the French girls at the wedding. Yeah."

"Sure. Maybe is does just look funny. Better safe than sorry though. Constant vigilance! I'm going back to beater to keep the Blond Bludger away from George."

"She's not so much the Blond Bludger as the French Frog right now. Do you two have to keep leaving pranks around?" asked Ginny irritatedly. "The cheese was completely green and she ate it anyway."

"There were other colors," noted Fred.

"The wedge she had was green and now she is too. How long is that going to last?" demanded Ginny. Gabrielle held her breath.

"How much did she have?" asked Fred.

"It was like this."

"Shouldn't be more than a couple of days, I'd wager," said Fred casually. There was ringing in Gabrielle's ears as breathing became unimportant. She was already dead. It was only a matter of time before Fleur and Maman made it official. It was so obviously a prank, thought Gabrielle, why did I fall for it?

There were sounds of a struggle now. Ginny barked, "Get. The. Antidote."

"Geroff me. Merlin your nails are sharp. I was only kidding. Ginny, it's a couple of hours. Hours." said Fred as he struggled. Gabrielle's sigh of relief was not heard as she rested her forehead on the floor.

"It bloody well better be, or you'll be cooking for yourself from here on," warned Ginny.

"Don't blame me, it was going to be a party game for the reception. Eat a few colors and you're a human lava lamp. It wasn't meant for Beebee. George is the one who chose that cheese. I was plumping for a nice Wensleydale. Nothing wrong with a good English cheese by my way of thinking. You should have seen the galleons he spent importing that from some monastery on the ill of Paris or some," explained Fred. Gabrielle wondered, ill of Paris? He must mean Ille de Paris. No wonder the Brie was so wonderful. George is very thoughtful.

"What is a lava lamp?" asked Ginny.

"Oozy blobs of wax floating in warm oil. We're going to stock some modified muggle ones in the shop. Dad got us a waiver in exchange for the plugs. Very good for stress relief, they are."

"Uh, yeah. Oozy blobs define relaxing," said Ginny doubtfully.

"You, dear sister, are behind the times. Anyway, why did you let her eat it?" asked Fred.

"Once she thought it was from you and George nothing short of hexing her would stop her. Gabrielle even thought it was safe. What did she call it? Um... Oh. A prank prank."

"A prank... prank?"

"I think the idea was that something might look like a prank to a suspicious person, but not be a real prank. To be honest it made more sense at the time," said Ginny. It still makes sense to me, thought Gabrielle. Even if it was wrong.

"So she ate a whole wedge of green cheese?"

"Seemed to really enjoy it too. She was completely oblivious to the shades of green she was turning."

"That girl's amazing," laughed Fred. Gabrielle knew she shouldn't smile at this kind of compliment, but did.

"Ah. So that's what this is about then, is it? You're jealous that she likes George more than you!" crowed Ginny.

"What? I'm bloody not jealous!" snapped Fred.

"Me thinks he dost protest too much."

"Me thinks you're the one who's Confunded now!"

There was a clattering crash in the entry hall. This was followed by the sound of Tonks cursing, and a smaller voice yelling, "Inna cor' bigjob! Off'al bizin'! Eas' now!"

Fred got up with a groan. "Duty calls."