Chapter Twenty-Five - Home Again

It was not Pepi. Sitting on a moss pad in a crockery pot, the spiderwebs of fine, barely visible cracks bearing witness to its fate, was a toad. Or, that is, a house-elf recreation of a toad, in their medium of choice: spellotape. But it was beautiful. The layers of shiny tape, crumpled and contoured into the curves of the original amphibian, shimmered like a jewel. A moving jewel, if not a living one. Gabrielle opened her palm, and the toad clambered into her hand. Unlike Trevor, who was vaguely damp and squashy, the spellotape felt almost warm and very light. It was like holding a crystal. Gabrielle had to have it. She had one galleon left - would it be enough? She should not have been so generous at the Mended Wand.

That thought made her feel guilty. Gabrielle knew that she had forced the others to come along, so some of it was her fault, and Mr. O'Beirne had been so nice. It also seemed disloyal to Pepi - the memory of Pepi. Why should a zombie toad be more acceptable than a zombie puffskein? Gabrielle knew the answer and felt worse: the toad was like a living glass sculpture while Pepi was likely to be a mass of stitches and look like a beat-up red quaffle. There was nothing else for it, though, decided Gabrielle. She would find Pepi and take care of him regardless of his hideous condition. And she would buy the toad.

Resolve strengthened, Gabrielle renewed her search for the unfortunate pygmy puffskein, letting the toad crawl into her sleeve. She decided to check some of the places she had already looked into again, since it occurred to her that Pepi may not necessarily be all the same color anymore.

It was soon clear, however, that there was no Pepi to be found. Owls with forks for talons, yes, and owls with real wings but bodies of woven rags. But nothing like a puffskein. Gabrielle was both relieved and disappointed. The others were clustered near the thin witch with the leather apron. Dobby was still there, but the other house-elves were either hiding better or they had left. Gabrielle went toward the counter to see how much the toad cost.

Gabrielle passed Hermione, who was whispering to Harry. Ginny, further away, chatted with the shopkeeper. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? This Mistress Esme has modified her memory. And with a rather heavy hand, I would say," diagnosed Hermione.

"She does seem a bit, er, off," agreed Harry.

"A bit off?" huffed Hermione indignantly. "Harry, she barely remembers who she is. She thinks whoever or whatever Mister Nubbies is did all this. It isn't right for someone to do that."

"Unless it's a muggle?" argued Harry. "The Ministry has no problems with it."

"Unless it's done by an expert," shot back Hermione. "And what were all those biscuits about? It was a weak ward, I'm sure of it."

"Dobby said the tea would help her. Maybe they, er, didn't want her in the way?" replied Harry uncertainly. The two of them noticed Gabrielle then, and stopped. After what happened earlier, thought Gabrielle, now they want to exclude me? Gabrielle continued to the shopkeeper.

"Eh, excusez-moi," said Gabrielle, addressing the thin witch. "What is ze cost of ze toads?" The shopkeeper looked around wildly, panicked.

"Might be written down?" suggested Ginny.

"Written down? Yes. Yes, that's it, I'm sure. It's written down," said the thin witch in a tremulous voice. "Can I help you?"

"Eh... How much is ze toad?" asked Gabrielle again.

"It is written down," replied the witch from behind the counter.

"Perhaps in that book just there?" hinted Ginny. "The one with 'schedule of prices' written on it?" She turned to Gabrielle. "You really want a toad?"

"Oui. It is one zat the house-elves, eh, repaired."

"Animals Mister Nubbies damaged are fifty percent off," said the thin witch in a surprised tone, as if her words were not her own.

"That sounds fair. Er, how about I help look it up?" offered Ginny. She didn't wait for a reply, but pulled the book from the witch's hands. "Sure you won't have some tea?"

"I only drink herbal teas. One needs to conserve heartbeats for a long life. How can I help you?" replied the shopkeeper.

"Herbs are plants; tea is from plant leaves. All tea is herbal tea," argued Ginny. "You take a few sips and see if I'm wrong."

"All right," agreed the shopkeeper. She didn't take up a cup though.

"She's going to need St. Mungos," said a worried Ginny to Gabrielle. "Toads are - wait, is this right? Toads are four sickles? Is that apiece? If we didn't have garden gnomes the Burrow would be overrun with toads!"

"Specially bred," claimed the shopkeeper as if by rote, her eyes sharpening briefly.

"Come on, Effy. You don't want a fat, ugly toad. And if you do, there's dozens in the woods near the pond," advised Ginny.

Gabrielle already had her galleon out, and passed it to the thin witch. The shopkeeper smiled politely but then just stood there holding the coin.

"Honestly, it's a waste of money," chided Ginny. To the witch behind the counter, Ginny ordered, "Put that away and give her fifteen sickles. Look in that metal box. Yes, that one - how many boxes do you see?" Ginny turned back to Gabrielle. "I'm not sure we can leave her on her own. You know, George would probably give you another pygmy puffskein."

Would he, wondered Gabrielle. George seemed to ignore her earlier. The shopkeeper counted twenty-one sickles into Gabrielle's hand.

"Eh -"

"Budge over you and let me deal with her," commanded Ginny. The shopkeeper stood aside meekly. "That old hag was right: she has the backbone of a flobberworm," muttered Ginny to Gabrielle. "Give me back six of those sickles. Where is the toad?"

"Eh, he crawled up my sleeve," answered Gabrielle. In truth, she was hiding the toad. If they saw how beautiful it was it would surely cost more than it did.

"Bleah," said Ginny with a shiver, before turning to the shopkeeper again. "Snap out of it, will ya? Drink the blasted tea!"

"All right. Can I help you?"

"Harry? Give me your wand."

"Ooh, it's Harry Potter..."

v - v - v - v - v

By the time the group was making ready to leave, the shopkeeper seemed less detached from reality. That was mostly due to the forcible application of the house-elf tea, which was accomplished by using a Petrificus spell and Gabrielle's weird pink cone as a make-shift funnel. It was more than a little messy. Hermione and Ginny were working at cross-purposes, so Gabrielle retreated behind Ron again. He was the biggest splash-guard.

Dobby disappeared and then reappeared with more tea. Gabrielle wondered if the shopkeeper would survive without drowning. Dobby also brought a small, brass wire cage with a small red something in it. He presented it to Gabrielle, and explained earnestly that they had tried their best. Gabrielle's first reaction was to cringe. At least until she got a better look at the thing. It was...

It was not Pepi's poor body with the terrible gashes and horrible wounds sewn shut with crude stitching, as she had imagined. The little red ball looked very much like a... bobble, snipped from a child's knit hat. Exactly like one, really. The ball of yarn rolled itself to her hand when she held the cage. Gabrielle very nearly dropped it in surprise. A red... tongue, perhaps? - slid out from the ball and flicked her skin. The tongue looked, to Gabrielle's eyes, like a strand of licorice whip. The thing acted like Pepi, but what was it?

"Eh, zank you. Eh, is it... alive?" Gabrielle asked Dobby.

"Dobby is sorry, madwozell, but it is not. Madwozell's puffskein is happy in there," said Dobby. He smiled hopefully at Gabrielle.

"Does it need, eh, to eat?" asked Gabrielle. She tickled the yarn. It was rougher than Pepi's fuzz had been, and the... thing seemed to enjoy it.

"It is only yarn," replied Dobby. The little creature wrapped its bit of licorice around her finger like Pepi would do with his tongue. It was so endearing that Gabrielle knew it really was Pepi inside the yarn somehow. He may be one of the undead now, thought Gabrielle, but he was still her pet. Gabrielle decided to rechristen him Pepi-Z.

"Zank you, very much," smiled Gabrielle. She opened the cage and tucked the bobble-bodied Pepi-Z into her other sleeve.

v - v - v - v - v

Leaving the shop presented a problem. The crowd of curious wizards and witches had grown considerably, as had the violence of their attempts to open the door. Several colorful explosions had rattled the door, but did not break it down. Gabrielle was not looking forward to facing the larger crowd. The entourage ruse did not sound as much fun anymore, since she would only have the two grunting bodyguards. Ron and Harry nixed slipping out the back door under a disillusion spell as being too obvious. Dobby suggested using the side door, which he would make for Harry Potter and Harry Potter's friends.

Dobby made an opening in the side of the owl shop with meticulous care. There had to be some magic, thought Gabrielle. It didn't seem possible for the house-elf to be able to pull apart the bricks and mortar so quickly and neatly without it. She had no doubt, looking at the carefully stacked bricks and lacework of mortar, that it would all
go back into place.

While Dobby worked, Hermione adjusted their disguises. Neville and Ron went back to their normal appearances, with Ron's leather jacket making a return. This time the slash was held shut with a heavy zipper. Her sense of style, thought Gabrielle, was quite odd. Ginny's hair was shortened, which didn't suit her. Gabrielle's clothes were un-transfigured so that she wore Ron's oversized shirt again, and Ron tried to try his hand at changing her hair. Gabrielle was able to dodge that, fortunately, and begged Hermione for protection. Gabrielle ended up with hair the same shade of red as Ron's and very curly. She wondered if she would have been better served with Ron's attempt until he caught her off-guard and gave her freckles - a lot of freckles. This was found to be the height of hilarity by the others. Perhaps, thought Gabrielle, they had forgotten that she had a wand. That would be to their woe!

Once her travelling companions had recovered from a second bout of laughing, brought about when Gabrielle quite reasonably demanded that she share Harry's cloak, Gabrielle had a measure of satisfaction when Ron altered Hermione's appearance. Gabrielle supposed it was a compliment of sorts that Ron not only kept his girlfriend's hair bushy and brown, but gave her a lot more of it. Her tangling tresses tumbled to her knees by the time he was done. It might have been a compliment as well when he deepened her neckline and raised the hem of her blouse until the two practically met. Certainly Hermione did not see it as a poetic ode to her beauty. She quickly undid the changes. Gabrielle wondered if the red on her cheeks was from anger or embarrassment. Only Neville was redder. While Hermione returned her shirt to a more modest style, Ron transfigured her denims into a very short skirt. That made it clear the colored cheeks were from anger, and a conjured flock of small, yellow, and very upset birds set upon Ron.

The hole Dobby had created in the side of the building opened into the narrow space made with the neighboring shop. They would be able to slip along it single-file, then past the edge of the crowd. Especially with a diversion, which would take the form of a Weasley Wildfire House-Breaker, provided from Harry's box and dropped from the roof by Dobby. Gabrielle and the others filed out of the narrow gap using the smoke from the huge explosion of colorful sparks as cover.

v - v - v - v - v

The car ride back to the Burrow could, in Gabrielle's mind, be best described as slipping down a giant funnel of despair. The normal mood they had on Diagon Alley was the rim, and the mood became grimmer and grimmer as they travelled the bottomless pit of angst at the Burrow. Not that the Weasley homestead was a pit, thought Gabrielle, or the source of the despair. It was just that as the miles passed more of what the day added up to sank in. Hermione took to worrying her lip as they drove. Ron started looking hunted and jumpy. Ginny was the same and Gabrielle suspected they were thinking ahead to Mrs. Weasley. Harry was silent. They were not only late for lunch but if they did not keep moving they would be late for dinner. The events at Eeylops could not be hidden, and it would not take much for Mrs. Weasley to connect their presence on Diagon Alley with that. And, of course, that horrible witch was killed. Harry looked the most grim of all - that was probably why.

Hermione turned on the wireless and fiddled with the buttons until a news program was found. It sounded like muggle news and Gabrielle wondered if it could not pick up any of the WWN programs. Hermione slapped away Ron's reaching hand. There were a series of depressing reports on the muggle football stadium attack that the auror Tonks had mentioned. Almost two dozen spectators had been killed, with scores wounded. The news reader said that the death toll would have been far higher if it had not been for the precautions put in place during the 'Troubles', whatever they were. The attack was blamed on a foreign terrorist group, which, although nothing was known of them, were surely provoked by the government's policies.

Gabrielle was not sure why Hermione thought they should be listening to this now. A little music, even British muggle music, would be more distracting. On the other hand, Harry looked somewhat bolstered by the reports. The next story about a fatal feral dog attack on a child outside of Weston-super-mare returned the grimness.

With no one doing much in the way of speaking, Gabrielle had nothing to distract her own thoughts. She couldn't help but feel that she would be blamed for all this. They had gone to Diagon Alley because of the trick with the dresses, and they had gone to Eeylops because of Pepi. Gabrielle was fairly sure people would see that she had not really been party to the wrecking of the shop, but dragging the others to the pub had been her idea. Someone would probably argue that what followed was a direct result of the firewhiskey. Plus, hadn't she stabbed that Bellatrix? Maman would take a very dim view of that. How, wondered Gabrielle, would she not lose her place at Beauxbatons now? She had nearly lost it over spilled gravy. Well, spilled gravy, breaking Harry's ribs, and cracking her own skull.

Gabrielle wished George would hug her. She was feeling lonely again, and gently toyed with her pets in the baggy sleeves of the borrowed shirt. It was probably too much to hope she could change before Maman or Fleur saw her.

v - v - v - v - v

No one spoke until the car had been turned onto the rutted dirt track that led to the Burrow. Harry requested a stop before they reached the clearing where the house was centered. He left the car, telling them to wait; he told Ginny that twice. Harry then went into the woods. Hermione and Ginny both turned and looked intently at Ron, who shrugged his shoulders and exited the car to follow Harry.

"Eh, where are zey going?" asked Gabrielle, not really expecting an answer.

"I think I know," said Hermione softly.

"Yeah, I think you're right," nodded Ginny. And that, thought Gabrielle, is that. Why did I bother to ask?

The two boys returned in less than a quarter hour, evidently finished with whatever Harry had to do. He announced that no one was to say anything about the events of the day. Harry said the Order would be told everything except the nature of the locket, but only after Fleur's wedding was over. Everyone made assenting noises, so Gabrielle did too. It wasn't like she wanted to think about Ginny slumped over beside her, stunned, or Hermione's helplessness as that Bellatrix went to kill her. Gabrielle would, all in all, rather forget about the curse the witch launched at her with murder in her eyes. The same eyes that had stared unseeing at Gabrielle from the ground in the alleyway. No, thought Gabrielle, best to try to keep it all secret and tucked away. Perhaps, postulated Gabrielle, she could ask Harry to wait until she had returned to France.

That was easy to think; that she would be able to keep it out of her head. It was much harder to do when they reached the Burrow and Gabrielle found her parents sitting with an agitated Mrs. Weasley, who Gabrielle thought looked like she would explode beneath her polite countenance.

Gabrielle's father stood abruptly and threw open his arms. He was a heavy man with good hair and he wore forest green robes. "Mon petite ange!" he called to Gabrielle excitedly.

"Papa!" squealed Gabrielle, running to him. Her father clasped her to his thick middle, and she hugged him as hard as she could. The relief that they were present and that she was somehow safer flowed into Gabrielle, along with the thoughts of why she needed to feel secure. Gabrielle began to cry. She was not bawling or sobbing; the tears just started flowing.

"(There, there, my little one,)" soothed Gabrielle's father.

"(Gracious child. Whatever is wrong?)" asked Gabrielle's mother in surprise and concern.

"(Nothing,)" sniffed Gabrielle. Her face was buried in her father's robes as she tried to calm herself. Gabrielle did not know where the tears had come from and started to feel a little annoyed. I should be stronger than this, thought Gabrielle. She could practically feel Ginny's eyes boring into her as well.

Her mother stroked the top of her head, finding and gently exploring the lump from the alleyway. Gabrielle winced but her Maman's fingers moved on. "(Nothing? This is quite a lot for - nothing.)"

Gabrielle pulled away from her father's chest to wipe her eyes. Mrs. Weasley was looking at her also and wringing her hands. Harry, Ron and Hermione used her distraction to slip away. "(I, eh, have missed you,)" Gabrielle said with a quivering lip. That was at least partly true. Gabrielle was finding it hard to rein herself in. "(I did not, eh, realize how much, perhaps.)" She dried her eyes on her sleeve and sniffled loudly, which her mother frowned at.

Madame Delacour fiddled with the collar of the oversized shirt Gabrielle wore, and straightened it over her shoulders when Gabrielle released her father. "(It is of no consequence. You seemed to be doing so well here. A little homesickness is at least good for your father and I to see. We do not have to let you go just yet.)" Gabrielle wondered if her mother was talking about Beauxbatons. "(Tell me, Gabrielle, why are dressed like this, and what is in your sleeve?)"

"(I went to muggle London, to go to, eh, Diagon Alley. I, eh, bought a toad,)" said Gabrielle, answering at least one of the questions. Ginny, apparently satisfied that Gabrielle was not going to breakdown and reveal their secrets, tried to slip out. Mrs. Weasley snatched the back of her shirt by the collar.

"Do excuse me, Apolline, dear. I need to speak to Ginny in the kitchen," said Mrs. Weasley. They left the sitting room entirely once Ginny's hands had been wrenched from the door jamb.

"(That has the cut of a boy's shirt,)" declared Gabrielle's father suspiciously. Gabrielle rolled her eyes.

"(Why did you not wear your own clothes? I believe Fleur packed some appropriate clothing for you?)" asked her mother. That raised Gabrielle's hackles. Maman had known. She had known and let Fleur do it anyway.

"(Fleur says I have grown out of them,)" replied Gabrielle. It was not what really happened, of course, but it was close enough to Fleur's point of view. "(Mrs. Weasley tried to fix it, but then -)" Gabrielle stopped. She thought: but then a homicidal maniac tried to slash me in two, which ruined the outfit I just bought. No, realized Gabrielle, that would not be a very good explanation to use.

Madame Delacour sighed, shaking her head and silvery hair slightly. "(I see. But why, Gabrielle, did you not see if there was something you could have borrowed from Mrs. Weasley's daughter?)"

Gabrielle was about to launch into her complaints against Fleur when there was an eruption from the kitchen.

"Mother! You just don't understand anything!" Ginny's voice reverberated like thunder. The door to the eating area splintered, and Ginny stomped up the stairs. Gabrielle winced, but suddenly saw her chance.

"(Eh, yes. I will go, eh, to change,)" said Gabrielle. She made to leave, but the doorway was filled with Mrs. Weasley, who looked very cross.

"I do apologize, Apolline, for that," said Mrs. Weasley, composing her face.

"Eet eez nozzing, Molly. Daw-tairs can be, 'ow you say, dramatique," smiled Madame Delacour. She gestured in Gabrielle's direction. Gabrielle gasped her affront. As if I am the one, thought Gabrielle, who complains about absolutely everyone and everything. "Please, may I ask ze fav-air? Gabrielle eez in need of a prop-air blouse."

"What? Oh, er, yes. Not a problem. I, erm, just put some things away that might fit her." Behind Mrs. Weasley, house-elves began collecting pieces of the door.

v - v - v - v - v

As happy and as oddly relieved as Gabrielle was to have her family at the Burrow, she was just as happy and relieved to finally slip away again. Maman was acting very strangely, in Gabrielle's opinion. She was raining compliments on a smiling but sheepish Mrs. Weasley. Gabrielle knew for a fact that Maman loathed wool - she would say that there was no reason to wear the hair from such a common beast when there was silk. Yet Maman professed high regard for the jumpers Mrs. Weasley had knitted from the wretched yarn. That worked to Gabrielle's advantage at least, since George's old jumper was returned to her. The 'G', Gabrielle pointed out, was for Gabrielle. Papa was acting strangely as well, thought Gabrielle, but that was not as uncommon for him if boys were mentioned. Mrs. Weasley didn't seem to notice.

The real problem for Gabrielle was that it was getting hard to avoid questions about how the day had been spent. Mrs. Weasley had asked about the dress-fitting. Gabrielle knew if she answered that it had gone fine then that would invite a question about why they had been away so long. Gabrielle definitely did not want to try and explain Eeylops and Pepi-Z; she regretted mentioning the toad as Maman would surely bring it up again. The answer was to do as Fleur would do: complain. Gabrielle couldn't bring herself to criticize Madame Malkin, though, because Mrs. Weasley liked the squat witch. So she complained at length about the fake bosom she was to wear, although she would not go without it. The additions made her look so much older. Her complaints did resonate with Papa. He began to rant about the norms and mores of society these days, and the corrosive nature of fashion. Maman suggested, with a brittle smile, that perhaps a short break for tea would be nice. Gabrielle was left alone to change and sort through Ginny's cast-offs.

Gabrielle carried the returned clothes back up to the room she shared with Ginny. She paused at the door. The hallway here had a distinctly sharp smell, like after a lightning strike. Perhaps, thought Gabrielle, it would be best to let Ginny calm down some more. The black undergarment from George was ruined - what if Ginny accidently cursed her? Then again, where else was she to go?

v - v - v - v - v

Gabrielle eventually worked up the courage to enter Ginny's room, where she found the older girl cursing small paper butterflies , that she had enchanted to fly, out of the air. It was very disconcerting, so Gabrielle did not say anything to Ginny for a long while. Harry's owl Hedwig landed on the window sill and looked speculatively at the remaining faux butterflies fluttering weakly. Perhaps this was the source of the paper for the winged victims that lay scorched on the floor, thought Gabrielle.

Hedwig made several appearances as the bird shuffled messages between Harry and Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. They had decided to use muggle traffic and the parking in London as the excuse for being so late. An overturned lorry near London and a separate three car pile-up were key elements in the deception, so Gabrielle had to practice the fictional details with Ginny. Gabrielle planned, having missed lunch, to keep her mouth full to avoid talking.

By the time the call for dinner had come, Gabrielle had gotten a little cold and had changed into the old pair of Ginny's denims instead of wearing the skirt from the school uniform. She chose the jumper with the 'G', confident Maman could say nothing about it as she had gushed over it earlier. Her little wand went into her travelling chest. It made her feel somewhat sad, but she couldn't risk her parents finding it. Gabrielle decided to leave her pets in the room also. They would attract comment and questions. The knife from Gaston would come with her.

v - v - v - v - v

Gabrielle seemed to be the last one to the table, unless some of the aurors were going to show up. She was somewhat chagrined at this. Ginny had left first to meet up with Harry. Gabrielle wanted to remind her not to get carried away with him, but the piles of ash on the floor made her reconsider. Gabrielle would have gotten to the table before them except that her pets did not want to be left behind. The problem was the toad, whom she had named Poisseux for his spellotape body. He - or she, although being made of tape 'it' was probably more accurate - was a lot more mobile than Pepi-Z, as Poisseux had legs. While the reincarnated puffskein was easily
corralled by a wall of sheets and clothing, Poisseux was able to climb out and stiffly hop after her. Gabrielle had gathered the translucent toad back up and built a higher barrier. She had not made it back to the door when she heard the quiet tick of the toad's rigid tape body hitting the floor. Gabrielle was then completely surprised at what
happened next: Poisseux spit out the red bobble that was Pepi-Z, and they rolled and hopped toward her. When the two had reached her, the toad then snatched up the puffskein in its mouth and started to climb her shoe. Gabrielle decided that she had no choice but to stash them in her sleeve again, at least until she got some proper enclosures.

There were several open seats around the dinner table, but Gabrielle had no trouble deciding which one to sit at. Her Maman pointed to the one between herself and Papa. Rather sharply, as far as pointing went. There was a seat open next to George. He knew and she knew that Fred would not be at dinner tonight. The fact that the seat was open cheered Gabrielle somewhat, since he had ignored her earlier, and she smiled toward George and gave a little wave. George winked back at her.

Oops, thought Gabrielle, Papa had noticed. Now he had to split his suspicious looks through narrowed eyes between Bill and George. Gabrielle noticed that while Ron and Hermione were sitting together, Ginny was also surrounded by her parents. Ron still wore the leather jacket.

"Molly, ze din-nair eez exquisite," praised Gabrielle's mother.

"Oh, I can't take credit for that. The house-elves, well, once they get started it's hard to stop them," returned Mrs. Weasley. The table was packed with dishes, noted Gabrielle, but what they held was very unusual. Not unusual as in dragon-tail stew, but unusual in the sense that each plate held a miniature version of an entire meal. There were tiny beef roasts surrounded by even tinier vegetables and potatoes, or small roasted birds, stuffed with what might be figs. Gabrielle pulled a plate closer to examine it.

"(Don't play with your food, dear,)" reminded her Maman. As if, thought Gabrielle. "I did not know zat you 'ad ze 'ouse-elves, Molly."

"We don't, but the poor things don't have much to do at Hogwarts during the summer months. They looked so sad, I couldn't say no," replied Mrs. Weasley. She looked over at Mr. Weasley, who was gazing at Madame Delacour with glazed eyes. There was a dull thud from beneath the table, and Mr. Weasley barely stifled a groan. Now Papa had to eye him as well, Gabrielle noticed. Papa was so silly at times. She had a thought.

"'Ow I wish I 'ad zat problem," said Madame Delacour with a little laugh.

"Zank you, Ron, for lending me your shirt," said Gabrielle sweetly. Ha, grinned Gabrielle. Papa's head was practically spinning. She kept the smirk on her face from showing by digging into a tiny but perfectly cooked roast.

"(Henri, darling, you are making yourself a spectacle,)" whispered Madame Delacour across Gabrielle.

Fleur and Bill monopolized the conversation after that by describing their new house. It was not hard for them to do so, as both Papa and Mr. Weasley were not in a talking mood. Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were clearly going to say as little as they could also. George did not have Fred to talk to, and Gabrielle felt that she had already said too much. Anyway, she was really hungry.

It was a dinner more like the ones at Delacour Manor than a real Burrow dinner. At least it was up until Gabrielle thought the tres petite potatoes could use a bit more salt. She picked up the salt shaker near her plate and shook a little onto her helping. Then she shook out some more salt, this time onto her meat. That was not by her own volition, and Gabrielle had the sinking feeling that George had worked out where she was going to have to sit. Soon her plate was covered in salt and her arm was shaking erratically. Salt poured from the shaker by the spoonful, then, after Papa's Finite, by the bowlful. Fleur's disarming spell, done with a knowing smile on her lips, made it flow by the shovelful. Gabrielle had pushed herself away from the table, and stood nearly waist deep in the growing mound. It was stupid. It was stupid; it was embarrassing; and it was at the very heart of why Gabrielle liked being at the Weasley's. Gabrielle found herself giggling and smiling even as she was trapped in her own
avalanche.

Reactions around the table ranged from the horrified embarrassment of the elder Weasleys, to the angry outrage of both Bill and Papa, to the stifled laughing of Ron and Harry. George was roaring his approval. Fleur, composing herself, and Maman wore similar faces of pained suffering.

"It's Shaker Salt - only seven sickles!" announced George proudly. "Works with any shaker, completely edible. Er, the salt, of course, not the shaker."

"And when will it stop?" growled Mrs. Weasley.

"Excellent question," replied George. "Right to the heart of the matter, really."

"(You see how it is with her? She brings it on herself. I would be mortified by this,)" whispered Fleur.

"What is the counter you blasted troll?" demanded a standing Bill.

"(I shall use The King's Flail on the whoreson once you are safe!)" hissed Gabrielle's father as he began to push aside the pile of salt. He raised his wand again.

"(No! You will make it worse, only,)" called Hermione. A flash of surprise lit Fleur's face; she regarded Hermione with suspicion. "Ron, help her."

"Wot? Me? How?"

"Dig her out, of course," ordered Gabrielle's coven sister. Ron got up and dragged Harry with him over to the growing pile of seasoning. They began shifting the white granules until Gabrielle's arm, still wildly shaking the salt shaker, cracked Ron on the head with it. Harry, who could not refrain from laughing at his best friend's plight, was shoved into the pile by his quidditch teammate's foot. Ron seized the salt shaker from Gabrielle's hand. Her arm, feeling very rubbery now, stopped flailing at last. Ron threw the salt shaker at George, aiming for his head. It turned into a white dove with a sweep of the older brother's wand, and the bird fluttered its way to Gabrielle's shoulder. Gabrielle smiled proudly at George's magical prowess, although the brightness of her smile was tempered by the fact that the sharp grains of salt had infiltrated her clothes.

"Well done, Ron," praised Hermione, saluting with her fork.

"You all right, Harry?" asked Ginny. Gabrielle cleared her throat meaningfully, but was ignored.

"I've salt in my eye because of a stupid git," complained Harry.

"Serves you bloody right for laughing while I do all the work!" snapped Ron.

"Eh, I am still stuck," reported Gabrielle. And chafing, she added in her head.

"Harry, dear, let me," said Mrs. Weasley bending down with her wand.

"Oy Mum! What about me?" whined Ron.

"All right, luv. Let's have you out of there," said George cheerfully as he rounded the table.

"Keep away from 'er, Englishman," warned Gabrielle's father, turning to defend her. Not, Gabrielle noticed, coming to pull her out. Every move she made resulted in more salt trickling into her shoes and denims.

"(Papa! Don't be so rude. Eh, it was just a silly joke,)" warned Gabrielle.

"(A silly joke which is funny and very profitable, a lot,)" added George in his awkward French. He did not try to move past her father though.

"(Oh yes, the infamous Weasley Wizarding Wheezes crap that is the cause of so much hysteria. They are already banned - the decree takes effect in time for the scholastic year,)" grinned Gabrielle's father with a surprising bit of malice.

"Er, yes, uh... edict, is it?" struggled George.

Gabrielle could not believe how her father was going out of his way to provoke and insult George. Her arm that had used the shaker felt numb, but she figured she could use it regally at least once. "Ron. Dig me out, s'il vous plait."

"Only one here liter'lly - lit-er-'lly! - starvin' an' I've got to do everything," muttered Ron. He pulled Gabrielle onto his shoulder and levered her out.

"You could have used ze wand," complained Gabrielle. "You are a wizard, no?" She reached into her denims and brought out a handful of salt before seeing her mother's disapproving stare. Well, thought Gabrielle, she would think differently if she had salt in her clothes.

"All right, fine," huffed Ron, pulling out his wand. From his back pocket, noticed Gabrielle. Perhaps Monsieur Moody should know this. Ron reached toward her waistband.

"That'll do, Ron," said Mr. Weasley abruptly. "I think it best, yes, to leave it to the witches now."

Gabrielle didn't see an advantage in that. Ginny was laughing at something, or someone, with Harry, Hermione was putting the parts of the roasted hen she didn't want on Ron's plate, and the last person she wanted help from was Fleur. Surely this would be added to the 'List'. The only other witches were Maman and Mrs. Weasley, neither of whom were very pleased looking.

"Eh, I will go, eh, and change," said Gabrielle. She started to waddle toward the door.

Mrs. Weasley and her Maman would have none of that, and pulled Gabrielle into the kitchen proper. There they completely lost their senses, in Gabrielle's opinion, apologizing to each other over and over. Mrs. Weasley had any number of people she could apologize for, but concentrated on George and even Fred, who was not even present. It was not fair, in Gabrielle's mind. George was a wonderful wizard. And Fred was too. Maman asked forgiveness only for Gabrielle and Papa. While the two matrons assured each other no disrespect had been intended either way, they fussed over Gabrielle's denims, which she had had to remove, and her underwear, which she had also been made to remove. This was totally humiliating to Gabrielle. She was not some toddler needing a nappy, she was practically a woman. Did they not, wondered Gabrielle as she tried to stretch the jumper lower, see the old house-elf still sitting atop the icebox?

v - v - v - v - v

Gabrielle was feeling rather peeved by the time she returned to the table. Maman and Mrs. Weasley had gone ahead, commiserating with each other about having to deal with daughters and sons. Gabrielle took longer because she wanted to dress in the narrow gap on the far side of the stove. It was not easy, and it was only after banging her elbows while pulling up the denims that Gabrielle realized she should have just ordered the elf away. She was peeved, and just a little rebellious, from being treated like a child. So, she plopped herself down in the seat next to George, and took a new plate. Ah, Gabrielle noted with satisfaction, looking surreptitiously around the table,
that got a reaction. One, noted a second thought, that she would probably pay for later on.

George scanned the onlookers shrewdly and said quietly, "Hullo luv. Or maybe you'd fancy something a bit more flash?" He seized her hand and bowed over it, planting a kiss on the back of her pale hand. "En-shan-tay, mon cherry," said George formally and loudly enough to be heard.

Gabrielle felt her face heat up at the unexpected contact. Maman and Bill were looking at her with curiosity. Papa, Fleur, and Mrs. Weasley were staring daggers at her. Or perhaps, especially Papa, at George. Gabrielle tried to act as if it was something normal. She was not as successful as she hoped. "Eh, oui... yes. Eh, I... I... Eh - How was your day?" she blurted finally.