A.N.: To my dedicated followers, Beatrix Hart, Marlicat, MuggleCreator, and Sydell, I'm glad this story helps. Also for Sibarian, TooLazyToLogIn, Alisabeth, LittleBabeBlue and , chintz and Bingo.
This is a long chapter, and I had sooo much fun creating Maia's cosmetics line! There is also Harry and Neville's birthday-party, which was fun to dream up the details for. And the Hogwarts letters arrive! Sirius makes a speech and shows baby-photos…
The Eldest of the Pleiades
34
It was a busy few days. With Mrs Weasley's encouragement, the twins quadrupled their inventory. Maia, aided and encouraged by not only Mrs Weasley but Ailith, Chummy and Sirius, surprisingly, completed her cosmetics. She was incredibly proud, when all of her inventions and creations were completed. She had so much fun working on packaging and labelling, the typefaces and colour-schemes, special-effects… It was quite ridiculous, how much she enjoyed it; she had a lot of input on different packaging designs from Chummy, Tonks and Ailith, the twins (expert on product-packaging) and the elder of Chummy's nieces. But it was Sirius' influence that helped her finalise the packaging for her Hello, Beautiful foundation, a compact mimicking a vinyl record, with vintage typeface and a little round mirror in the lid.
The only thing consistent about her packaging designs was that they were not consistent. Different typefaces, different colour-schemes and styles, and themes, different containers—a screw-lid tin for Drench! moisturiser, an Izze-inspired bottle for her Foam Party! facial cleanser, jam-jars with pretty cotton bound with ribbon over the lids for her You Scrub Up Well sugar-scrubs, a little pyramid-box for her La Dorada frog-shaped bath-beads, even Icing on the Cake was very unique, the blotting serum solidified into the shape of a vibrant little strawberry with stalk, smelling faintly of poached strawberries and rhubarb. What was consistent about her product-packaging was the inconsistency—and the flirty nature of the packaging, the fun. All of her packaging was witty, clued-in, sassy and young, but expertly designed to be far from childish.
She put together a limited-edition sample-set of three 4ml bottles of The Star Shines, Tease and Rum Punch for a sample of her liquid highlighters, and Chummy helped her create her idea for Borealis into a reality; the triple-toned highlighting crème stick, with rose-champagne, rose and subtle pale-bronze, blended beautifully, scented with tuberoses; and with Hermione's willing aid as tester, Maia invented Lion Tamers Wanted, a strong but delicate serum that tamed even the unruliest hair without heaviness or grease, adding shine and nourishment the hair, with the subtle scent of popcorn and Butterbeer, building on the theme of lion-tamers in a circus.
Maia and the twins worked on the idea of bath-sugars, as well as the twins' joke cake-decorations, and while they developed bath-sugars with different lovely special-effects, Maia used the different scents to create a line of You Scrub Up Well sugar facial-scrubs, not just the core one scented with dark-chocolate, lemon and violet, but a selection of them, catering to the girls' favourite scents—Chummy's, Ailith's, Hermione's, Ginny's, even Mrs Weasley's. They, the bath-sugars and Maia's idea for the fuchsia frog-shaped bath-beads, were very cheap to produce, and very easy to, thus, they made a large inventory of them.
She spent one entire day creating a special line of cosmetics kits to promote alongside her fairytales, each encased in a small unbreakable-glass clutch-purse lined with silk, corresponding to each fairytale, with a tiny charm on the top of each correlating again to the story—a little pearl conch-shell for the Little Mermaid; a bronze wolf for Red Riding Hood; a rose-gold rose with a long stem, on its side, for Beauty and the Beast; a little gold apple for Snow White. She created two new nail-lacquer shades for each fairytale, and a limited-edition Pucker Up lip-crayon, and each set contained an iridescent pink 'First Waltz' Lip Tar she had previously developed, a sample-size pot of Poppy-Romp in 'Bridal Bouquet', and a 4ml sample bottle of So This is Love, a pale pink-champagne gold highlighter liquid she had created especially. She loved the fairytale sets—for example, Sleeping Beauty's set, with 'Frozen in Time' Pucker Up, a rose-fawn lipstick scented with rose and violets, and two lacquers, 'Beauty Rest', a pale, shimmery cinnamon-rose hue scented with Grand Prix roses, and 'Valiant Prince', a polished chestnut with garnet undertones, scented with sweet chestnut crème. Little Red Riding Hood featured a velvety cherry-crimson lipstick called 'A New Cloak', scented with cherry and violets, the nail-lacquers 'What Big Eyes You Have', violet with plum, silver and amethyst shimmer, scented with violets, narcissus and lily-of-the-valley, and 'Little Red's Hood', a velvety matte-finish scarlet scented with hot-cross buns! The Little Mermaid's set featured a coral-pink Pucker Up called 'Sea Queen' with iridescent turquoise-silver shimmer, and 'Mermaid's Tiara' lacquer, an amber-coral with pearl shimmer, scented with honey and pistachios, and 'Siren Song', a silvery pearl-green lacquer scented with myrtle and jasmine.
Maia also discovered, to great personal hilarity and the amusement of Ginny and Opal, that she could use a Water-Repelling Charm to create a vintage-style shower-cap out of any fabric she wished to use, finishing the hems with fine trims, bows, even fake jewels, and they were so easy to make that she added a huge quantity of them to her growing collection of unique children's book-bags—in shapes like a strawberry and a Snitch, beaded and embroidered—and clutch-purses in different textiles and linings, different shapes; the stain-repelling brush-rolls, little letter-rolls, embroidered handkerchiefs, prettily-trimmed burlap totes, colourful, small suede messenger-bags with different beadwork designs; she even made up some lovely vintage-style dressing-gowns out of beautiful fabrics and trims. The printer also made boxes of any size, design and decoration that they could dream up, and Maia and the twins put together a collection of ten girls' and ten boys' boxes into which they could put a selection of party-favours, to sell to anyone who needed a quick little gift.
Mrs Weasley wanted colouring-books, and so Maia spent a bit of time tracing her original illustrations, creating twelve-page A4 books of rich paper with serrated edges, wrapped in rich matte card printed with her favourite of each story's illustrations, with an alphabet colouring-book with the characters in her stories, which contributed to the designs for some of her special homework-diaries/day-planners. These, with the Quidditch League ones, were added to her stationery collection—Mrs Weasley thought all her designs should be put into print to sell at the festival, as well as cleaned up, edited copies of the workbooks Diane had made for Maia. Mrs Weasley had home-schooled all of her children in reading, writing and maths, and most other magical parents did, too, so she thought Maia's workbooks, carefully structured by a very intellectually articulate woman, would be fantastic to mass-produce.
While a production-line was created to put together pocket-wirelesses, a back-stock of every design Maia had come up with, Maia worked on her two-way journals, delighting in the colourful recycled-leather diaries she had sourced wholesale from the printer, and was also working on her other idea, a Vanishing Box. And with each of her products perfected and packaged, Maia started photographing each of them for a fun owl-order catalogue, using her typewriter for page-layout and design.
One afternoon found Maia and the twins, laden down with baskets full of their products, making their way to the Witch Weekly offices. They were interviewed by one of the Features journalists, their entire inventories photographed with them, and then were allowed to hand out their products and take polls and reviews from people who tried them out. Mrs Weasley escorted them home, beaming with pride that they were going to be featured in her lifelong-favourite magazine.
Maia was still working on the two-way journals, and the Vanishing Boxes, but Mrs Weasley wanted Maia to work on concept-art to be put on posters at the festival, and so that's what Maia did!
Jack and Ailith worked diligently, recruiting volunteer-entertainers for the festival, ending up with a list of acts any festival-promoter would have been spitting with envy over. Harry and Neville had honed their choices for their birthday-dinner buffet; Maia received another run of Radio Rock garments from the clothing manufacturer; Hermione scoured Muggle bookshops for beautifully-bound classic Muggle novels, storybooks, Little Miss and Mr Men books, a full collection of Beatrix Potter and A.A. Milne books, every author they could think of who deserved a place in the were-school's library, as well as children's books on Muggle history and significant people in Muggle culture.
Ron's only contribution to the planning process was to suggest they sell cones of popcorn in different flavours at the festival, as popcorn was cheap; and he added that there should be chess-tables set up for casual tournaments. Cedric had rather embarrassedly agreed to carry around a donations bucket while he worked as undercover 'security', as had Harry.
She and George had collaborated on invitations for the party, "Presents Mandatory", which they had printed as part of a huge order for product-packaging for both Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and Pleiades Inc.; homework-diaries; Maia's stationery designs; Radio Rock posters; badges and flags; Maia's fairytales; copyrighted product-concept posters; colouring books; owl-order forms and the twins' board-games. Due to the size of their order, and because Maia had fallen into a discussion with him over the printing of Diane's workbooks that Maia had tweaked and edited, the printer had sent a letter to Remus, promising the first term's supply of composition-books and other paper products needed for the school, free.
Everyone else involved worked hard to bring about the festival, which took considerably more planning and effort than the boys' birthday-party; by the twenty-ninth of July, the night of the Olympic Opening Ceremony, everyone was ready for a break: dragging cardboard boxes out into the hallway, Maia looked in on the store-room. A very large spare-room on the first-floor by the den had been turned, with the use of deep bookcases, into a storage facility. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes products dominated one side of the room, Pleiades Inc. the other (with clothing rails for the girls' dresses she had made up, Mrs Weasley suggesting other girls might like the dresses Maia had sewn for Opal) while Radio Rock merchandise featured on the far wall, and the First Aid kits were stored in a deep bin in the centre of the room. If they could have opened the doors of Number Twelve to the public, as Fred had said, they'd "be ready to go", because, putting together the storage-room, they had also designed their displays.
Maia had had a lot of fun with that, incorporating things like a carousel; a record-player she had Transfigured to a vintage pink-colour; putting her little Icing on the Cake strawberry blotters in amongst fake petit-fours on a tiered cake-stand, inspired by a scene in the Marie Antoinette movie; a tin bucket filled with 'ice' in which her bottles of watermelon-pink Foam Party! facial cleanser looked delicious and ready to be drunk; and a miniature, double-sided circus-caravan painted orangey-red-gold with pink and sunflower-yellow details, shelves and six drawers at the bottom for surplus inventory, to host Lion Tamers Wanted and the collections of hair-dye sticks, Nectar hair-gel and the mists she was working on that created special-effects on the hair, like shimmer, pearls and even flowers that lasted up to eight hours, iridescence to top over brightly-coloured hair-dye sticks.
Sirius helped Maia put together an enormous chalkboard, created out of an old dining-table they'd repossessed from the attic, stripped and repainted, giving it a stand and affixing a plain rectangular mirror in the centre after giving the wood several coats of chalkboard paint; the frame they Transfigured for it was painted bright pink, with George using his lovely handwriting to paint 'BEAUTY SCHOOL: Get Your Festival Face Here…' in pale-blue and fuchsia, while Maia painted a 'frame' around the mirror, and moving photographs of her, Ginny, Tonks and Chumley using her cosmetics were glued to the chalkboard, with Maia painting directions beside them, little glass trays of sample testers for each product. She also played on the Olympics by creating a 'podium' for her liquid highlighters; and a 'thermometer' for the baked powders. Mr Weasley's fixation with light-bulbs had led Maia to create a display for her temporary cosmetic transfers, with a two-foot-high, glittering light-bulb on top of a tiered glass spiral display, the light-bulb filled with fairies and three oval mirrors inside, sluggishly revolving, with pots of sample transfers to play with.
They were just a few examples of Maia's displays; but she and the twins had started arranging everything as they would have displays in a shop. So this was how they would organise everything in the joint tent they were going to share; Mrs Weasley had tracked down two second-hand tills that rejected fake coins and counterfeit money-orders.
Sirius had remembered how to use magic to receive Muggle free-view channels, from back when he'd had his own place, and with everything for the party just about ready to get underway first thing in the morning, the entire house stopped to watch the Olympic Opening Ceremony in the den on Maia's enormous television. Maia and the twins were putting together gender-specific goodie-bags and party-crackers, but now, the sense of urgency had lifted.
Opal liked the well-oiled Fijian athlete in his grass-skirt; Hermione loved the timeline of Muggle history including the Industrial Revolution, Maia explaining the reference to William Blake's poetry; and Mr Weasley thought the mechanics behind and the final effect of the Olympic Cauldron was amazing; the twins loved the five firework-rings.
Maia was utterly mortified by the British athletes showing up in white-and-gold trackies. With the Italian athletes in their Armani suits, she would have thought that Savile Row would at least have been consulted. Maia finished putting together the last batch of clutch-purse First Aid kits, highly disgusted, and went to bed.
Neville's birthday dawned, incredibly hot, and, for Maia, very early. They would be spending all of the day and most of the next at the Hobbit-hole, so she and the twins had made a vow to get some work in up in the workshop before they had to set up the last bits for the party. Showering, Maia dressed in slob clothes for the morning, and after an hour in the workshop, bottling Not On My Pillow! makeup-remover, she worked on her two-way communication diaries and Vanishing Boxes, then went downstairs for breakfast, and to help with the last of the food-preparation for the buffet-dinner.
"Morning, dear," Mrs Weasley smiled, pouring a cup of tea for Maia; the twins were already on a full-English, a request from Neville for his birthday breakfast. "Have you been doing some work?" Maia nodded, yawning. "Well, have something to eat, dear; we've got a long day."
"I'm so glad we set up the stage and everything already," George yawned.
"I have never worked so hard than in the last six days," Fred grunted.
"It's done you good," Mrs Weasley said. "And you'd best get used to long days if you're opening your own shop." The twins yawned, ignoring her.
Over the weekend, the others had set everything up at the Hobbit-hole while they worked, aided by Florean, Madam Rosmerta and Ailith, Lance, Bill and Sirius: Maia had never seen a Wizard playground before, but she wished she'd had one growing up; it looked so natural, tucked in a gurgling curve in the stream just below the slope leading to the half-hidden cottage and the orchards; a large slide bore the likeness of a Romanian Longhorn dragon; a small one, a sitting sphinx; a carousel of unicorns (adults and the golden foals), phoenixes and hippogriffs; giant toadstools to climb all over; a tinkling mermaid fountain to splash around under; and a set of monkey-bars in likeness of broomsticks that levitated higher and lower like some sort of Mario Brothers game! There was a golden climbing-apparatus like a great globe, and small model hippogriffs and winged palominos that wheeled and circled a foot above the flower-speckled grass of the meadow; the playground had been set near to a wider curve of the stream so kids could splash about, and nearby the playground, nine shining marble tables for chess had been set out in a grid.
Lance had planned out where the stage would be; the thoroughfare past the foot of the little hidden cottage (with a path lined with streamers to guide visitors coming by Floo past the orchards, past the playground, with the nearby families-only camping section); the location of the food-stalls in relation to the playground and the stage; there was only going to be one stage, at the foot of the deepest slope, which was still a very gentle hill on which people could easily set up camp, with screens throughout the meadow, and there would be a sort of amphitheatre with deep grassy steps carved out of the hill around the stage, on which people could sit with their picnics and watch. But Lance had located the stage so that, no matter where people were, everyone could see it. There were also large canopies protecting shining dance-floors with bandstands, polished bars supplied by Madam Rosmerta, to serve drinks while people danced to live bands. Gold-and-glass speakers were to be stationed around the meadow (the ones in the family-area stifled after 'bedtime'); the same speakers as in the den were to be arranged onstage, and in the playground, at the picnic-tables set out by the food-stalls, the twins' and Maia's marquee, Mal's tent, Madam Rosmerta's pop-up pub, the sweet-shop and Florean's outdoor ice-cream parlour.
They would increase the size of the playground for the festival, and put sets of toilets in each area with shower-stalls in the camping-zones. Ginny had pointed out that actually they didn't own a tent, something they hadn't considered; a large communal tent was going to be put up in one camping-zone, inside which a hundred-odd witches and wizards could roll out sleeping-bags, with circular wash-stations and bathrooms.
This and more was all for the festival; the party was altogether much smaller, but Lance had already done the stage in time for the party to test the speakers, etc., and they were using the party to test out the schematics.
"Maia, if you'd go and get the goodie-bags and the prizes," Mrs Weasley said. "You can go with Fred and George to put up the decorations. Girls, you'll use the Floo Network with Harry and Ron. Neville, your grandmother will be here in twenty minutes, and then we'll see you at the Hobbit-hole at noon." Neville nodded; Maia knew he was going to see his parents this morning, before the party. "Kreacher and I will bring the picnic over then, when we've got everything ready for the buffet."
"Have we got everything?" Fred asked, patting his pockets.
"Check the list," George grunted, finishing off his breakfast. Maia pulled out her journal.
"Brooms—Badminton set—Dean Thomas is bringing a football—fireworks—board-games—sleeping-bags—sun-c ream—Has everyone got their swimming-costumes?"
"And don't forget, all of you, pack your overnight bags," Mrs Weasley said. "Toothbrushes, knickers—"
"Mum, don't say knickers," George said; Maia chuckled.
"And toiletries," Mrs Weasley continued. "Boys, you're bringing a pot of Redneck-No-More just in case. And pillows, don't forget."
"I've got inflatables for the lake," Maia said, checking her little bag, "And a lot of sweets, fruit from the orchards that we can pick at until dinner…"
"Towels," Mrs Weasley said firmly, and Maia snapped her fingers, because she'd forgotten hers. Gathering up the goodie-bags, the prizes and her overnight bag, Maia grabbed her old Lion King beach-towel, checked her list again, and met the twins in the hall. "I'll see you in a bit, dears—and behave! I don't want anyone visiting St Mungo's!" The twins exchanged a look with Maia before laughing, and darting down the porch-steps.
"Offer you my arm, Miss Black?" George smirked; Maia grinned, clutching his forearm, and they Disapparated.
They spent an hour indulging in doing absolutely nothing. They lay down on the grass at the curve of the tinkling stream, savouring being still.
"Bloody hard work this week," Fred sighed. Maia, lying close beside George, sighed.
"Bloody hard," she agreed.
"I'm gonna sleep for a week after this," George yawned.
"Can't," Maia murmured, eyes closed, enjoying the burn of the hot sun against her skin, the way the breeze caressed her oh so gently. "Festival's in eighteen days. Have to help."
"Worst is behind us," Fred murmured. "Got more than enough back-inventory to let us step away for a bit, come up with new ideas…"
"Should set some stock aside for Christmas," George yawned. "Can't believe we're going to be in Witch Weekly." He gave a slight grimace. Once they'd decided to be interviewed and photographed for Witch Weekly, they'd been incredibly enthusiastic; but the fact that their mother read it had gone against the magazine in the twins' eyes. Only Maia agreeing had nudged them in the direction of accepting the offer.
"Maybe you'll win the Most Charming Smile award," Maia sighed gently. She giggled as George pinched her.
"Glad Mum's pushed us, though," Fred said thoughtfully. "Unless we sell out of them at the festival, we have stock to supply any orders for First Aid kits."
"We should make extras," Maia sighed. "Just in case. Dumbledore said he'd put order-forms for them in every student's letter."
"Mm," George grunted softly. "Nice of him…" They lay on the grass for nearly an hour; Maia dozed against George, and when the egg-timer she had set rang, they grumbled, sun-soaked and yawning, but hauled themselves off the ground and got to work. By the time Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione let themselves out of the Hobbit-hole, loping over the meadow down to the trickle of stream where they had napped, Maia and the twins had finished decorating the dining-area, the pop-up pub, the path to the camping-area, and were on the stage, Maia breathless with laughter, as the twins tried out some of their best material. Ginny came bounding over, grinning; all four of them bore overnight-bags, sleeping-bags rolled up under their arms; Ginny bore a rolled-up magazine.
"It arrived just before we left!" she grinned, handing the magazine, with two envelopes attached by paper-clips, to Maia. "Mum said I should bring it to show you."
"It's this week's Witch Weekly," Maia smiled, detaching the two envelopes, one addressed to her, one addressed to Messrs F & G Weasley.
"Oh my god," George blurted, his eyes popping. The front-cover of the magazine had just been revealed.
"They didn't!" Maia blushed.
"You all look gorgeous!" Ron smirked.
"Must be a slow week," Fred remarked. They had made the cover.
Several photographs had been taken in the Witch Weekly office; of the twins, of Maia, of the three of them together, of them with their merchandise. One of the photographs of the three of them together had been used on the front-cover, the twins grinning and chuckling, George's arm slung around Maia's shoulders; she grinned at George, then Fred, saying something that made them both laugh, and beamed at the camera. The twins both wore deep navy shirts; her vibrant red lipstick looked stunning, and she wore one of her handmade dresses, a Fifties dress with a nipped waist, flirty skirt and a boned bodice, white Egyptian cotton embroidered with delicate sprays of flowers, a run-in denim jacket and a grin. The titles of feature articles were printed or scrawled elegantly at the sides of the magazine, the name on the bottom in fuchsia.
"What does the article say?" Ginny asked, and Maia flipped open the magazine. She had to hand it to Thomasina, she was a wonderful writer. She was full of enthusiasm about Pleiades Inc. and Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The first page in the spread featured another photograph of the three of them, with all of their merchandise, from both companies, spread out in front of them (Maia had thought of sewing up a banner for Pleiades Inc. for the festival, and the twins had their mother working on one for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes). On the following two pages, half the pages were given over to five photos each, the largest of Maia with all of her products, and three small vertical photographs, the last slot filled with two horizontally-arranged photographs, all of examples of her products; the same had been done for the twins, and their interviews spanned onto the next page, which featured more photographs of specific products. There were reviews from Witch Weekly employees who had tried out the products, printed over the photographs and inserted into the text.
The article was very good; Thomasina had asked all the right questions, and they had given honest answers. Thomasina had even made a special mention of the festival on the weekend of the eighteenth, at which Pleiades Inc. and Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes would both have stalls. The photographs were flattering, as was Thomasina's confidence in their companies and her enthusiasm over Maia's cosmetics, which had been handed around the office and had everyone bounding around with excitement.
They weren't allowed to sit and bask in their new celebrity; Ginny had been given strict orders by her mother to help, and they had to finish setting up the last few things, completed the decorations on the stage, set up the firework-display for later in the evening, and went to pick muscles at the beach for part of the picnic.
The Hobbit-hole cottage being open for Floo access and toilets, etc., everyone changed into nicer clothes inside in preparation to greet guests: Neville arrived with his grandmother, and the rest of Grimmauld Place turned out to make sure everything was ready. As Sirius had suggested, the kids' friends and Neville's relatives could come in the afternoon with picnics, to set up tents and enjoy the sun, and anyone who suffered the catastrophic ailment of employment could come after their workday was done.
They had gotten confirmations from nearly everyone invited, all except Neville's Great Uncle Algie, who was in Assyria, and Oliver Wood, who had intense training due to the start of the Quidditch League season, and his own father's birthday, but who had sent two tickets for Neville and Harry to go and watch a Puddlemere United game before the end of the summer. Remus had managed to track down the parents of the seven werewolf children still considering sending their children to his were-school and invited them, so Opal was excited to meet other were-babies.
They met Madam Bones' living brother when he dropped off his daughter Susan, who was in the same year as Neville and Harry but a different House, and she lingered shyly beside Cedric, also a Hufflepuff like her, until Cedric's girlfriend, a pretty Asian girl named Cho, arrived with one of Cedric's friends.
They had decorated the old gate into the property, and, yes, it was a bit of a walk from there to the partially-concealed cottage, orchards, veggie-patches and now-deserted hencoop, but Professor Dumbledore had said that the magical protection could only be lifted at the gate, so it was there that the entrance was to be set up for witches and wizards Apparating in, or being dropped off by the Knight Bus or by Portkey, which several members in the Order who worked at the Ministry were setting up for the Saturday of the festival. So it was there at the gate (invisible to Muggles, as was the small dirt path that led off several fields to it, but highly-decorated by Ginny and the twins with streamers, sparklers, balloons and a big banner that read 'Neville and Harry's 15th Bash') that several of them waited to greet guests.
Having Apparated with his mother from Ireland to his best-friend's house, Seamus Finnigan appeared with tall, Muggle-born Dean Thomas with a BANG: the violently-purple triple-decker Knight Bus had dropped off Seamus and Dean, two small brothers, Colin and Dennis Creevey, one of Cedric's friends, and three of the were-children and their parents who were considering sending their children to Remus' school. Opal, ever cheerful, charming and enthusiastic, grabbed them (six-year-old white-blonde Beroe, pretty-eyed eight-year-old Calliope and shy nine-year-old Noah) by the hands and dragged them over to the playground.
With Sirius on the wireless, broadcasting under a small canopy, the floor littered with cushions and records, bottles of Butterbeer and letters, there was a permanent soundtrack of fun music, and the twins' friend Lee Jordan, who had also just passed his Apparition test, became a guest-DJ after he and Sirius had a long discussion about Lee commentating the Hogwarts Quidditch tournament games, wanting to go into radio after Hogwarts. Lee had listened to every single broadcast since Sirius first turned the microphone on, and he proposed that Sirius allow him air-time to broadcast the Hogwarts Quidditch games live, something that had never been done before.
Remus' first-love, Violet, arrived with her three daughters, all of them between eleven and five, and spitting images of their mother, who, as Sirius said when he bounded over to her, "Still has the nicest arse in all of the British Isles!" Violet seemed to be to Sirius what Chummy was to the twins; he hadn't seen her in about sixteen years, but the way they nattered on, laughing loudly and with eyes sparkling, they could have just seen each other the previous day. It was fun to see the way Violet acted around Sirius, and especially Remus when he appeared later in the evening.
"So, are these mini-people yours?" Sirius asked, eyeing the three girls, all of whom were miniature versions of their mother and of their elder sisters, with warmly tanned skin, short thick eyelashes, long sun-streaked hair and sultry eyes the colour of bluebells.
"Actually, they just sort of came with my house," Violet said.
"Cool," Sirius grinned lazily.
"No ankle-biters for you, then," Violet said, rather sadly.
"For which we can be very thankful," Remus smirked.
"I do sort of have a mini-me," Sirius said, with a bright smile. "I'm an uncle."
"God, your brother procreated?"
"I know," Sirius sighed. "Did a good job of it, though; left the kid alone to grow up by herself. Nurture rather than Black nature, and all that."
"She took after your nature, then?" Violet smirked.
"Yes she did," Sirius grinned. "In fact, you've been corresponding with her; you recently approved her application for a licence to use the Quidditch League colours."
"Maia Black?" Violet frowned. Her glowing eyes popped, her jaw hanging slightly. "She's your Maia?"
"She is indeed," Sirius grinned lazily, and Maia, who had been eavesdropping while trying not to as she corralled Opal to put some sun-cream on her, glanced over, smiling. "Maia, come over here!"
"Maia? Oh!" Upon seeing Maia, Violet's beautiful face lit up with recognition. "Maia, yes, of course. The licences for the pocket-wirelesses and those fab nail-products!"
"That's me," Maia smiled, offering her hand. "Hello."
"Lovely to meet you," Violet beamed. "God, she is you, Padfoot."
"Poor girl," Sirius said darkly; one of the little girls, Violet's daughters, giggled softly. "I don't know what you're giggling for," Sirius grinned, glancing down at her. "You're exactly like your mother…wow, how many years ago was it you were the same age?"
"Careful," Violet said warningly, lips twitching. "Padfoot, these are my daughters. My youngest, May; this is Poppy; and Iris starts Hogwarts this September."
"Hello," Sirius grinned. "You lot seen the playground yet? Opal—"
"Come with me!" Opal chirped, dashing over; she grabbed the littlest daughter, May's hand and tugged her away toward the playground to Beroe. Poppy yawned and meandered after them, hands in her pockets, while the eldest, Iris, who must be eleven years old to start Hogwarts, glanced first at her mother, smiled shyly at Sirius and Maia, and then followed.
Chummy arriving not long after Violet and her three daughters, but Chummy did so with all twenty-six of her nieces and nephews (and their assortment of parents). Their arrival really got everyone in the party spirit. Jokingly, Sirius suggested nametags; Maia brought out all the prettiest paper she had in her bag, as well as beads and ribbon, and spent about half an hour putting together personalised cat- and dog-collars for the kids to wear, a fun way to give them all nametags so everyone could keep track, an idea George proposed they utilise henceforth at all Weasley gatherings.
Fred liked the idea of putting the Weasley cousins on a leash.
Sirius' records playing, the playground glittering and shining in the sunlight appealingly, the stream gurgling, it was the perfect atmosphere; the fact that the were-babies were running around screaming with delight when Chummy arrived helped matters, and as all the children rushed about, delighted at seeing each other again, climbing all over George, taking turns with Fred on his broom, paddling in the stream and giggling deliciously as they tried to see who could get highest on the swings, flirting with Harry and climbing onto the chess tables to challenge Ron for his pocket-money, everyone else got in the mood.
It helped too that the weather was perfect; a warm breeze played with their hair, and the sunlight sparkled off the clear stream; the scent of brine subtly carried from the sea, mingling with the tangible scent of ripe plums, cherries and honey, and the bees buzzed softly as they hovered across the meadows, gathering pollen, and the sky was a blazing rich forget-me-not, not a cloud anywhere.
At noon, Mrs Weasley, Kreacher, Cedric and the Lovetts appeared; they come bearing baskets full of a splendiferous picnic. When everyone had put up their tents in the camping-designated area strung with streamers and colourful bunting, slathered their kids with sun-cream and spread out blankets (or sleeping-bags) on the carved grassy ridges around the stage, bringing out picnic-baskets, it was decided that Sirius' broadcast didn't suffice as entertainment, and the twins got up onstage, "testing the speakers", and put on a double-act that had even the grumpiest of Neville's wizened relatives creaking with laughter.
The twins were a huge hit. George seemed to be the especial favourite of a lot of the children; they clamoured for his attention, Chummy's lot showing him photographs of the results of their using his inventions, and he had them writhing with giggles as they danced to Sirius' choices of music; throughout the afternoon, the twins slipped their products in unsuspecting kids' treats or drinks, and it was always taken in the good fun with which it was intended; they played Quidditch, using fruit, making the kids shriek with laughter as apples exploded everywhere; and a trunk of toys and costumes had them playing make-believe, led by Opal of course; everyone changed into their swimming-costumes to splash about in the stream and the lake.
The adults had no less a wonderful time than the kids; those afflicted with the Bite or who also had werewolf children chatted with Chummy's numerous siblings and in-laws, and Maia liked to think they were coming around to realising that, despite being afflicted with lycanthropy, the other children were just that—children. Neville's relatives were much like Mrs Longbottom, although a few glasses of Maia's cider had a few of them becoming the life of the party, entertaining the kids (including the twins) with stories, dancing, telling jokes that had Fred sobbing; and those from the Order who could get off work before five mingled with Remus' werewolf contacts, whom he had invited all of. Several of the older witches bore copies of Witch Weekly and Maia and the twins spent a good bit of time during the picnic chatting about their companies, and, as Mrs Weasley had predicted, Maia had to bring out examples of all her products for interested parties to examine.
Ted Tonks brought tiddlywinks. This game, one of Ted's favourites as a boy, kept several of the children entertained and giggling for quite some time: it was a sight to see the nine marble tables intended for chess actually dominated by a tiddlywinks tournament, little kids kneeling up on the stools with their tongues poking out in concentration; the twins' board-game brought out and joke-jinxing the unsuspecting player; a Jenga tower and a Scrabble board were set out with a game of Chopsticks and dominoes; a Gobstones tournament went on in the grass nearby, the air punctuated by laughter and squeals of disgust as opponents were doused with foul-smelling liquid; Boule and tenpins lanes were set out, much to Professor Dumbledore's delight when he arrived bearing two wrapped presents to add to the two tables mounded with gifts for Harry and Neville.
The very low, polished little round tables set out under a colourful silk marquee with floor-cushions, adjacent to the playground and chess-tables, were the centre of all things 'quiet' and artistic; with a colouring-competition keeping a dozen of the kids quiet for a little while; with a bin full of children's books to read; hammocks set out for naps (these were met with general delight, though George claimed his had developed a 'fault' when he couldn't get in one) and the ever-useful bathroom. Sirius had also set up his projector, and the House had voted on which Disney films would be best to play; Lilo & Stitch, The Lion King and The Little Mermaid were chosen, and played one after the other for anyone who wanted to watch them, sitting on little floor-cushions and munching on little parchment cones of popcorn.
Mrs Weasley, an aficionado at hosting children's parties, had also provided numerous dishes of icing, sprinkles and sweets with which the kids could decorate fairy-cakes and shortbread biscuits, (the twins slipped their own invented cake-decorations in amongst them, to hilarious results) until such time as Florean appeared with vats of ice-cream to create sundaes, cones, floats and ice-lollies.
A small circular golden fountain was located in the centre of a ring of little low circular tables, at which colourful miniature chairs were set for kids to eat at; the fountain gave forth, not water, or even Butterbeer, but Florean's most beloved ice-cream flavours; other little sparkling spigots dispensed sweets, syrups and nuts depending on which knob was turned, and it was funny to see Neville's elderly relatives fighting little children to get to it!
The twins and Maia had set up party-games for when the kids started to flag, as was inevitable: Pass-the-Parcel was of course a classic, and Sirius took great delight in tickling the little kids during Musical Statues; Fred decided he was much too old to keep dropping to the ground and hopping up for Sleeping Dragons, rubbing his hip; but everyone got giggly and played Pass-the-Balloon, which then turned into Butterfly Balloons using jumbo-sized golden nets to catch dragon- and Snitch-shaped balloons the twins had invented; Hermione, Maia, Ted and Dean were leaders for these 'Muggle' games, including a game of football led by Dean which had the littlest, most enthusiastic children swarming around the ball like bees, but everyone knew Pin the Tail on the Hippogriff and Kneazle, Kneazle, Nogtail!—which had George pelting after a giggling Maia all over the playground.
The twins took over 'Circe Says', playfully telling kids off for giggling over the absurd things they tried to get them to do, causing more laughter; several children found themselves tossed unceremoniously into the stream, coming up spluttering and giggling; and the twins and Maia had set up a sort of treasure-hunt all through the stream, the meadow and playground, the orchards and vegetable-patch. They had to find golden eggs, each of which contained a puzzle they had to figure out, and the one who had the most right answers on their sheet of paper won the big prize. Wary of the tantrums and tears caused at large Weasley-family birthday parties when one or another child had gone without a prize, Mrs Weasley had wisely ensured that small prizes of sweets were given out throughout the day, while the 'big' prizes were tributes from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and Pleiades Inc..
There were, of course, still the usual tears and tantrums that could be associated with any party at which children were in attendance; grazed knees and not wanting to get out of the stream, so and so getting the better prize or the unfairness of someone being bigger than them, but several things were added to Maia's journal over the course of the day, ideas for new products and things for the festival, including a mock Triwizard Tournament for the little kids, who sat, enthralled, listening to Harry and Cedric talk about the three Tasks; different things to add to the playground, including a slide in the stream. The 'quiet' tent in which the kids read and coloured and decorated cakes also featured an addition that developed over the course of the afternoon and early-evening, a crèche for babies under three, watched over by Kreacher so the adults could enjoy a drink and a chat.
A miniature stage was created by Sirius, Chummy and the twins, fully decorated, with two painted sets of little steps either side and spangled purple curtains, at which the kids put on an impromptu talent-show. Colourful deck-chairs were set up around it, and the talent-show was met with raucous laughter and cheers. It was during this display of childhood innocence and confidence that most of the adult guests arrived, having changed out of their work-robes into wonderful examples of Wizard party-clothes; Bill looked even more the part of a lead-singer, and Tonks, wearing a short dress, ombre brunette waves and tall turquoise dragon-hide boots, was told off rather resignedly by Andromeda, who looked like she'd long since realised Tonks wouldn't listen to a word she said about the length of Tonks' skirts but couldn't break the habit. Mr Weasley arrived with Remus, as part of a line of guests wandering down the fairy-lit, streamer-strewn pathway from the gate.
Maia, helping to mediate a small argument between five of Chummy's lot, Opal, Calliope, Tootles (another were-boy whose nickname had been earned due to his love of marbles, like Tootles in Hook), May, and the wizened Longbottom relative who had apparently used up the last of the chocolate Snapping Sprinkles at the ice-cream fountain, saw Mr Weasley, recognisable due to his thinning flame-red hair and horn-rimmed glasses flashing in the dying sun and the glowing golden bubbles that floated everywhere with jam-jars filled with fairies, the glowing, glittering streamers and the Wildfire Whiz-Bang fireworks that went off sporadically as two of Chummy's nephews experimented with their games prizes, hand something to Hermione, Ron and Cedric, who were all chatting to Susan, Cho and Cedric's friends, Lee and Seamus Finnigan (Dean was teaching two more of Chummy's nephews how to bounce a football on their knees) before Ron detached himself from the group and went over to Harry, who was trying to stop Kelly, one of Chummy's fierier nine-year-old nieces, from shoving his stolen wand up Basil Longbottom's nostril.
"Booklists arrived today!" Ron said, and handed Maia a thick parchment envelope addressed in emerald ink, sealed with scarlet wax, the crest the Hogwarts seal. "Dad said he'd bring 'em tonight, he expects we'd want to read them now."
There were four pieces of stationery inside the envelope; one, telling Maia she had been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which she would reach via transportation called the 'Hogwarts Express', a ticket for which gave information that the train departed from Kings Cross Station, Platform 9 & ¾ at Eleven A.M. on the 1st of September. The third piece of paper was a list of all books and equipment Maia would need for the coming year—it seemed Maia's letter had been tailored to where she hoped to progress by the first of September; despite technically being a first year (she made a note that she was allowed a cat OR a rat OR a toad), because her course material was all for O.W.L.-level study, and they included volumes for Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and Astronomy at N.E.W.T.-level. The last piece of paper was the same size as the letters, but colourful, of thicker card, and bearing the details for the First Aid kits.
"Only one new one," Ron said, as Harry tore open his own letter. "The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Five, by Miranda Goshawk."
"Notice anything missing?" Fred said conversationally, as he and George strode over, each with their own letters, their eyes twinkling; Maia saw the First Aid kit order-form in George's hand.
"From what?"
"The booklists," George said, tweaking an eyebrow.
"Nothing for Defence Against the Dark Arts," Harry said thoughtfully.
"We overheard Mum and Dad talking on the Extendable Ears a while back; Dumbledore's having real trouble finding another teacher to do the job this year," Fred said.
"Not surprising, is it, when you look at what's happened to the last four," George said thoughtfully.
Harry frowned, ticking off his fingers, "One dead; one's memory removed; one resigned; one locked in a trunk for nine months. Yeah…I see what you mean."
"What've you got there?" Sirius asked, meandering over; he still wore his silver-rimmed sunglasses, though the sun was beginning to set past the woods, and in his leather trousers, black shirt open at the throat, curly hair shining, holding a pint of lager, he looked the epitome of cool, handsome, irreverent.
"Our booklists from Hogwarts," George said. Sirius reached for Maia's, a smile lingering at his lips as he looked over the set-texts.
"They've got you down for O.W.L.-year," he said softly, smiling a little proudly. "And three N.E.W.T. classes!"
"I suppose with all the work I'm doing this summer, Professor Dumbledore must think I'll be caught up to fifth-year by September," Maia said.
"Caught up? Maia, you already surpass N.E.W.T.," George said, laughing.
"What's this?" Sirius murmured; as several adults came over, curious what they were all carrying in their hands, he pulled out the First Aid kit order-form. "Oh, they included the order-forms. Fantastic!"
"What's this?" The order-form was passed around; everyone agreed it looked highly professional as well as fun, and someone brought out their wand and tapped the order-form, producing copies. Several people pocketed them, and George's eyes twinkled as he grinned at Maia from the corner of his eye.
"What's up with you, Ron?" Sirius asked suddenly, and Maia glanced up. Ron didn't answer; he was standing, still gaping at his own letter.
"What's the matter?" Fred asked impatiently, and strode over to look over Ron's shoulder. Fred's mouth fell open too. "Prefect? Prefect?!" George leapt forward, seized Ron's envelope and turned it over in his hand. Something gold glinted as it fell into George's palm.
"No way!" George said in a hushed voice.
"There's been a mistake!" Fred said, snatching the letter from Ron and holding it up to a levitating jam-jar filled with fairies, as if to check for a watermark. "No one in their right mind would make Ron a prefect!" The twins' heads turned in unison, and they both stared at Harry, who looked a little taken-aback.
"We thought you were a cert!" Fred said, his tone rather accusatory, as if Harry had tricked them in some way.
"We thought Dumbledore was bound to pick you," George said indignantly.
"Winning the Triwizard and everything?!"
"I suppose all the mad stuff must've counted against him," George said, glancing at Fred.
"Yeah," Fred said slowly. "Yeah, you've caused too much trouble, mate! Well, at least one of you's got their priorities right." Fred strode over to Harry, clapped him on the back, and gave Ron a scathing look.
"Prefect. Ickle Ronnie the Prefect. Ooh, Mum's going to be revolting," George groaned, thrusting the badge back at Ron, as if it might contaminate him. Glancing at Harry, as Ron passed him the badge, Maia thought there was something…off, something…tight about his smile. He looked as if he'd received a rather nasty surprise.
A shriek echoed across the meadow; Hermione came tearing into view, her hair flying, a letter clutched in her hand. She clocked Harry, the golden badge glinting in the dying sunlight. "Did you—did you get—? I knew it! Me too, Harry, me too!"
"No!" Harry said quickly, giving the badge back to Ron. "It's Ron, not me."
"It—what?"
"Ron's prefect, not me," Harry repeated.
"Ron?" Hermione said, her jaw dropping. "But—are you sure—I mean…?" She blushed deeply.
"It's my name on the letter," Ron said defiantly, frowning at her.
"I… I, well, wow, well done, Ron! That's really—"
"Unexpected," George nodded, staring grimly at Ron with his arms folded across his chest, mirroring Fred's stance perfectly.
"No!" Hermione blushed. "No, it's not—Ron's done loads of—He's really—"
"Everyone having fun over here?" Mrs Weasley asked; she looked happier than Maia had seen her in weeks. The success of the party, and a little tipple of Maia's cider and Mrs Weasley was an amazingly gracious hostess, giggling with the younger girls about love-potions she'd made as a teenager, chatting with the older witches. "Arthur said he brought your booklists over, boys, have you got them?"
"Yeah. We got them," Fred said darkly, eyeing Ron scathingly again. Maia knew the twins' position on the likes of Mr Filch and Professor Snape at Hogwarts, and she knew their political opinions regarding the ultra-Conservative, rather regressive and extremely prejudiced Ministry, but until now she hadn't heard they had any particular disdain or open hatred for school-prefects.
"Perhaps you can go to Diagon Alley tomorrow to get your new books and things," Mrs Weasley smiled. "That way we won't be in a rush at the end of the summer. Ron, I'll give you a little extra money, you need new pyjamas; yours are at least five inches too short, I can't believe how fast you're growing!"
"You should get red and gold pyjamas," George smirked, "to match your badge."
"Match his what?" Mrs Weasley asked, sipping her little glass of cider.
"His badge," Fred grimaced, as if getting the worst over with quickly. "His lovely shiny new prefect's badge."
Fred's words took a minute to penetrate Mrs Weasley's cider-buzzed mind. "His…but… Ron, you're not—?" Ron held up his badge. The cider went flying as Mrs Weasley shrieked.
"I don't believe it! I don't believe it! Oh, Ron! How wonderful! A prefect! That's everyone in the family!" Mrs Weasley beamed.
"What are Fred and I, next-door neighbours?" George asked indignantly, grunting as his mother shoved him out of the way to get to Ron, whom she grabbed in what looked like a bone-crunching hug, embarrassing Ron all the more in front of onlookers by kissing every part of her face she could reach.
"Go and tell your father, Ron! I'm so proud of you! What wonderful news! You could end up Head Boy, just like Bill and Percy!" Mrs Weasley beamed. "It's the first step! And to find out today, I'm just thrilled! Oh Ronnie."
Fred and George both made loud retching noises; if they could, Maia would have bet the twins would have downed Puking Pastilles to add to the effect, but their reaction, and everyone else's laughter at Ron's embarrassment, seemed to be more than enough for the twins; Mrs Weasley ignored them anyway. Arms tight around Ron's neck, she was still kissing his face. The twins exchanged looks.
"You don't mind if we don't kiss you, do you, Ron?"
"We could curtsy, if you like," George said.
"Oh, shut up… Mum, don't—Mum…get a grip!" Ron mumbled, trying to push her away; instead of letting him alone, Mrs Weasley grabbed Ron's arm and dragged him across the meadow, beaming, "Little Ronnie, a prefect! A prefect! Oh, I'm all of a dither!" over to where Mr Weasley was talking with a few wizards who were enjoying a smoke out in front of Madam Rosmerta's pop-up pub, the polished bar shining in the light of streamers strung up above the line of liquor bottles and glinting glasses.
"Ron, a prefect," Fred snorted, frowning.
"You know what, I'd love to see him try and put us in detention," George said thoughtfully, eyes on Ron, who was being hugged by a jubilant-looking Mr Weasley, who rung his hand and beamed.
"He could, if you don't watch out!" Hermione said angrily.
Fred and George burst out laughing; Maia's lips twitched, and Harry smiled.
"We're gonna have to watch our step, George," Fred said, pretending to tremble. "With Prefect Hermione on our case."
"Yeah," George sighed. "It looks like our lawbreaking days are finally over!"
"Oh, come on, this isn't exactly a Shakespearean tragedy," Maia said, glancing at the twins.
"Oh yeah?"
"I think I'm going to have to retire to a darkened room for days… The shame of it… We're never going to live this down. Ron, a prefect!"
"Brought disgrace on the family, he has… Imagine wanting to make Ron a prefect. McGonagall must've been Confunded."
"What've you got against prefects, anyway?" Maia asked curiously. The twins shrugged.
"Do Muggles have prefects at school?" Sirius asked curiously; Maia nodded, glancing at him.
"Yes. I was prefect for my form," she said, and the twins turned as one to gape at her, horrified.
"You…"
"You were…"
"You were a prefect?" George gaped, looking completely and utterly appalled. Maia shrugged.
"I was."
"You were a prefect," Fred choked, looking like he was about to throw up. "To think we knew you!"
"You've been…lying to us from the beginning?" George half-whispered.
"In my defence," Maia sighed, half amused but a little disgruntled by their behaviour; so what if she was a prefect? "I was the prefect who also magically erased the questions from our exam-papers, on more than one occasion." Sirius barked a laugh, and several others chortled. George looked much more forgiving of her past-life. She walked up to him, resting her hands on his shoulders. "I'm a different person now, Georgie…" Several people chuckled.
He blinked several times, his eyes growing warm, flicking over her face thoughtfully. "That's true…"
"I didn't mean to keep secrets."
"Bloody big one to keep," he murmured, eyes wide as he gazed down at her. She rolled her eyes.
"So what if I was a prefect?" she smiled. "I got to stop the younger kids from being bullied. And I got a special red-and-gold cord on the lapels of my school-blazer."
"Red and gold?" George asked, and Maia nodded.
"They were the school colours," she said.
"Gryffindor colours," George said softly, gazing at her.
"Excuse me, you're fraternising with the enemy!" Fred said loudly, scowling. Maia rolled her eyes, sighing.
"Fred, you know, you should really be more pragmatic about this," she said sternly, a hand on her hip.
"Pragmatic my arse!"
Maia twitched one eyebrow, and Fred bit his lip. "You could at least stop being disdainful for long enough to realise you've got someone on the inside."
Maia's words took a second to register, and then Fred's features illuminated.
"That's right… He could tip us off… He's far more afraid of us than he is Hermione—"
"I beg your pardon!" Hermione scowled. "Ron certainly isn't going to tip you off to prevent you getting in trouble, especially since you'll most likely deserve it."
"'Most likely'? Absolutely," Fred smirked.
"Hope you're ready for the responsibility of the position, Hermione," George said, grinning at her. Hermione's eyebrows rose, and Sirius snorted, wandering off. The fact that Maia had been a school prefect had somehow opened the twins' eyes to the fact that she wasn't exactly like them in every respect; she didn't flout authority…intentionally…and she didn't go about jinxing people for the hell of it, as the girls on the Gryffindor Quidditch team said the twins did. Fred seemed utterly disdainful of his being associated with a school-prefect without his knowledge or consent, but George didn't seem to mind, really. And anyway, when she'd finished telling him about all the magical mischief she'd caused since primary-school, she was more than forgiven.
And, as she had said, she was a different person now. So much had happened this summer that she could never go back to the girl she had been at Muggle secondary-school, with her turning her hair turquoise and erasing exam-papers without thinking and going home alone every day because Muggles were deflected from the Hobbit-hole park, who wasn't confident in herself as a witch because she'd had no education.
Ron's and Hermione's new prefect-hood wasn't the only bit of dubiously-good news the party received: receiving his own letter, Cedric had hastily tried to hide it, his cheeks a bit pink—and, sensing embarrassment like a dog smells fear, Fred had pounced.
Cedric had been named Head Boy.
Cedric didn't make a big deal of it, but, like Mrs Weasley, Cedric's father seemed about to burst at the seams with pride.
So that the adults could get the buffet table spread out ready for the evening-meal, and the others could get the night-time decorations sorted, George had all the kids sitting on the dance-floor in a circle, while he blew bubbles for them; they drifted in the air like tiny firework-displays.
Much like the crèche, the dance-floor that spread out between the playground and the food tents and polished dining-tables under a high marquee was created out of necessity over the course of the day, a large, flat circular dance-floor conjured out of polished wood, with sparkling streamers and pretty bunting trailing from a sprawling gold chandelier levitating twenty feet in the air, filled with real, glittering fairies.
Maia, who had been making sure people had drinks and anything they needed, all while still having an amazingly fun afternoon and filling seventeen rolls of film with three different cameras, went around, helping to illuminate the path back to the camping-area, the streamers sparkling like starlight in the glorious sunset; Maia illuminated the enormous oak that had been a permanent fixture in her life, with its swing, the ancient roots gnarled and twisted beautifully as they reached for the edge of the lake; she, Fred and George had strung the branches with streamers and lanterns, so that, when it was illuminated, glittering and sparkling in the sunset, it looked like a giant Christmas-tree.
A horseshoe-shaped table was spread with a tablecloth and scattered with jam-jars of conjured posies of flowers, and fairies, which also glittered on the candelabra scattered along the table; bunting and streamers had been draped above it, levitating in midair, and photographs were hanging from them. Photographs of Neville and Harry through their Hogwarts years; there were more of Neville from childhood, but someone had slipped baby-photos of Harry in. Maia suspected the photographs had been Mrs Weasley's idea, as she got a little misty-eyed seeing a picture of a toddler-Harry zooming around on a broomstick, frightening the life out of a cat.
As soon as the buffet was spread out, Mrs Weasley flicked her wand, and the polished round tables under the marquee loaded themselves with shimmering gold linen tablecloths, posies of wildflowers, levitating glass baubles filled with fairies, sparkling glasses, plain crockery laid with Gryffindor-scarlet cloth napkins, on which a Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes (in Partnership With Pleiades Inc.) party-cracker was placed. Handfuls of gem-shaped bottles of bubbles were scattered about with lion- and Snitch-shaped golden and scarlet confetti, and the low children's tables, each of them decorated with jam-jars of flowers and levitating fairy-baubles, were covered with paper tablecloths with pots of crayons and coloured-pencils; colouring-pages were placed at each setting, with stickers and Jenga towers to keep them entertained.
The buffet consisted of every nice thing Neville and Harry could think of, their 'desert-island' food picks; and it seemed as if Mrs Weasley, Maia and Kreacher had spent weeks cooking, but they hadn't. Magic was a marvel when it came to cooking. They could do so much after buying so little; they had used fresh vegetables from the veggie-patch, fruit from the orchards, and bought meat in Diagon Alley, but magic had been used, and the few ingredients they had bought had stretched to creating a feast.
Vats of summer-minestrone and white-asparagus soup; fragrant vegetable curry; gorgeous goulash; stuffed chicken; sausages; four different kinds of potato dishes; Swedish meatballs; honey-rosemary carrots (Neville's especial favourite); dishes of fresh salmon, beautifully cooked, or trout with fennel and lemon; duck confit with Puy lentils; quiches; macaroni-cheese; coq au vin skewers; steak; over a half-dozen different kinds of salads (duck-raspberry-endive; beetroot; carrot-and-apple; hot-and-cold root salad with goat's cheese; Nicoise; Greek); chicken kebabs with avocado dip; shredded lamb wraps with pomegranate-seeds; stuffed bell-peppers and ratatouille-topped aubergines; steaming dishes of fresh vegetables, including shelled peas, runner-beans and broad-beans dripping in butter; garlic-and-wine sautéed artichokes; moussaka; chipolatas and freshly-made fishcakes for the children with hand-cut chips cooked in lard. A loaf of fresh bread was put on every table, with a bottle of elf-made wine or Butterbeer and a large carafe of iced water and another of cordial.
"Alright, alright, alright!" When everyone had sat down with plates groaning with food, sipping wine and laughing, Sirius stood up on his chair. Everyone turned to gaze at him; behind him hung two banners; 'Happy 15th Birthday, Neville and Harry!' read the first, Maia and the twins having gone at it with decorating-charms so that it sparkled and glowed and pulsated with light like a firework-display. The second was smaller, hanging just beneath, 'Congratulations, Cedric, Hogwarts Head Boy. Congratulations, Ron and Hermione, new Gryffindor prefects!' This had been an addition made by the joint efforts of Mrs Weasley and Mr Diggory. "Everyone shut up!"
A few giggles from the children's tables, at which highchairs had been set up for the older of little babies, and someone let off a Wildfire Whiz-Bang; he gave them a look, and more giggles came, but Sirius grinned.
"I hope everyone's having as wonderful a time as I am!" A roar of approval met his words, and he grinned. "Excellent! As you all know, we decided to use the birthdays of Harry and Neville—" another cheer, people raising their glasses "—to test-run a music-festival in two weekends' time! I'm very glad you all consented to join us this fine evening, and when you're all a bit more liquored up I'll come and get your honest opinions about the whole thing!" Everyone laughed, and so did Maia, leaning against the back of her spindly gold chair, gazing at her uncle.
"Not wanting to keep you from your dinners—or your glasses—I'll keep this short," Sirius grinned, and several people laughed and raised their glasses again. "The last time I attended a birthday-party for Neville and Harry was fourteen years ago. Yep." He grimaced, probably feeling his age. "It was another joint-party, and many of you won't know this, but it was actually held here—well, not here," he gestured around the glowing, glittering marquee. "The Big House, over the way, was decked out for a celebration. Back then we took the opportunity to celebrate anything properly, if we had occasion to.
"Neville and Harry were, of course, the guests of honour at this party; it was their first birthday, and it was wartime, so everyone did their best to make things absolutely fantastic!" Sirius grinned. "Presents were mandatory—I myself provided a toy broomstick that had Lily having an aneurysm every time Harry whizzed past—and there was, of course, a cake."
Remus chuckled, a knowing smile glowing on his face; he looked younger, happier and more handsome than Maia had ever seen him, his face bathed in candle- and fairy-light, sipping wine and sharing a table with Tonks, Lance and several others.
"This cake was…amazing. Livia de Lusignan had made it—that's your grandmother, Maia—and it was well, in the shape of a dragon," Sirius grinned. "I mean, no ordinary dragon; it was made of red and gold chocolate icing. So, the boys go tearing through presents—with some help," Sirius added, adjusting his sunglasses with a smirk, and eyeing Maia, flashing a grin, "and this cake is set in front of them.
"Someone," Sirius said, and he grinned, "suggested Harry put his face in it. So, of course…he did." Laughter rang around the marquee. Harry looked a little flushed, but his eyes were twinkling, gazing at Sirius, probably drinking in every single detail he could about the only birthday-party he had ever had as a child. The only one when his parents had been alive.
"Neville followed suit," Sirius grinned, "and little poppet Maia, who would have been approaching her second birthday at the time, decided to start helping herself to the cake before it was fully demolished. While everyone else grabbed whatever slices they could get out of the remaining cake, the kids were taken upstairs to have a bath."
Remus was now giggling. "You didn't!"
"Later on, this photograph was the source of great delight to any who saw it," Sirius grinned mischievously. "I certainly laughed my arse off, and I had always planned to unveil it at some enormously public event." He raised his glass, grinning. "A wedding, a leaving-do from Hogwarts, perhaps. But I thought today would be as good a time as any. So, Neville, Harry—happy birthday!"
He flicked his wand, and an enormous photograph appeared, blocking out the two banners, and making Harry's jaw drop in horror as the crowd inside the marquee laughed and cheered.
A colourful Wizard photograph had been taken of two bright-eyed little baby boys, both of them wearing very fun party-hats, faces smeared with chocolate, and standing completely naked in a magical-bubble-filled bathtub, while a little curly-haired girl of no older than two, also nude except for a glittering party-hat, giggled and encouraged them to shimmy a little dance; baby-Harry wiggled his bottom, baby-Neville giggled deliciously, his happy round face lighting up, and baby-Maia shot a mischievous smile at the cameraman, odd eyes glowing, cheek dimpling, as she bent to splash the water, encouraging Neville to stamp his feet so the sparkly water splashed everywhere.
Maia clapped a hand to her glowing face; embarrass the three of them in one fell swoop; he was good.
"Aw," the crowd giggled, while Neville turned red as a beetroot, grinning through his embarrassment, and Harry sank in his chair, shaking his head.
"You're such a cute wittle baby!" George cooed, reaching out to pinch Maia's cheek playfully. "Love the hat." Maia rolled her eyes, grinning.
"Happy birthday!" Sirius grinned, raising his glass again, and everyone raised their glasses to toast the birthday-boys as Sirius climbed back off his chair. Fred was giggling madly.
"I also want to say, too, congratulations to Ron and Hermione, new Gryffindor prefects," Sirius said, raising his glass. "And to Cedric, new Hogwarts Head Boy. I suppose, Albus, you think they've all got a pretty good handle on deflecting minor to major hexes and jinxes?" Professor Dumbledore's beard and hair were glowing silver in the light of the fairies, candles and glowing golden bubbles, and he raised his glass of elf-made wine, winking.
"Crackers!" someone blurted, and Maia glanced down, beaming, as she reached for hers; with a BANG and a cloud of shimmering gold gas that smelled of treacle-tart—Harry's favourite pudding—the contents sprang out; a Fainting Fancy, Chinese Fireball stickers, a child-approved joke, a teeny screw-top bottle of scented ink, a matchbook of seeds for Fanged Geraniums and a hat. Maia's was a ridiculously tall Continental hennin complete with trailing diaphanous veil spangled with tiny gems, and crowned with sparkling, glowing gold tinsel. She popped it on, grinning, as George donned a Hatter-inspired top-hat of turquoise lace, peacock velvet, sunflower satin ribbon and an enormous fuchsia ostrich-plume.
The noise level started to rise, everyone gathered in one place not scattered about the meadow; cameras levitated around the marquee, taking photographs, and when Maia had eaten her fill of savoury foods, she went around with her cameras, taking a lot of photographs and letting the excited kids at the little tables show her their party-hats, the contents of their crackers, the things they'd coloured in or drawn on the paper tablecloth. One of Chummy's more pragmatic nephews had somehow gained a cache of party-cracker fillings, and was in the process of selling them to the other kids who wanted specific items but couldn't find anybody to trade with.
"That's extortion, Drogo!"
"Bloody good idea, though," Fred grinned, stopping on his way back to their table with a second plateful of food, eyeing the cache of toys and presents Drogo had collected.
Real sweets in little vellum parcels; draw-on moustaches; stickers; miniature colouring-pages (fairytale and animal); joke-cosmetics; joke-sweets (the ones that spurted daffodils from the nose had already been a big hit); joke-jewellery (the necklaces turned the wearer's eyebrows turquoise and sprout an excessive amount of nostril-hair in ringlets, the bracelets made the wearer cluck like a chicken when attempting speech); pretty little flower hair-accessories; joke-toothpaste; and mini reusable noughts-and-crosses boards, barely an inch and a half big, of polished wood in contrasting colours, with the pieces configured to look like curled-up glowing crimson dragons and 'dead' gold people lying spread-eagled; and Wee Mouse in a Tin House, a little felt mouse in a mints-tin with a little blanket, pillow and teddy-bear; bowties Maia had sewn that the twins had had a go with, making them glow-in-the-dark, or blinding to look at with various glowing, sparkling charms, or sing a ballad lustily; pretty little drawstring bags; two Puffskeins; non-joke jewellery, bracelets Maia had made, some with beads, some without; acorn-owl craft kits; 'bedtime-passes' that needed authenticating by their parents, authorising the kids to stay up twenty minutes later; a set of edible papers and paints; nail-wraps; sample-size bottles of nail-lacquer and flavoured lip-gloss; and Maia's sweetest little petit-fours.
"Remember doing the same thing at Weasley parties," Fred added, grinning.
"Drogo, you ever need a summer-job, stop by Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes," George grinned, clapping nine-year-old Drogo on the back with a wink.
"Admire your moxie," Fred agreed, nodding.
"Best dole the presents out, though," George remarked in a low tone, eyeing the other kids, some of who were pouting and glaring tearfully at Drogo, "they're beginning to organise. Never underestimate a child." Drogo reluctantly handed the presents out, of course, keeping the ones he deemed best for himself.
When they had eaten their second plates of dinner, the twins joined Maia as she made the rounds, especially around the kids' tables; the twins both had clipboards out, deep in discussion with each tableful of kids, nodding seriously and jotting down notes while each child clamoured to have their voice heard; Maia did 'market-research' too, asking first the kids what they liked about the flavoured lip-gloss, the sample-size bottles of nail-lacquer, the nail-wraps and (non-jinxed) bracelets, and then went to the older set of kids, the teenagers who were all heartily enjoying themselves; she took her notes in her journal, which she'd been filling all day with ideas and a lot of hilarious one-liners some of the kids had come up with, the altered 'rules' for Scrabble and the results of the Tiddlywinks contest, and stopping by each table, she got peoples' opinions on the products she had contributed to the party-crackers, as the twins did also with theirs.
She had come up with several ideas, especially for kids; miniature children's versions of her fairytales, the text simplified to Beatrix Potter and A.A. Milne standards, with a few smaller illustrations, paperback books about the same size as Mr Men books; paper dolls—she didn't know how she hadn't thought of that before, but that gem had come from Chummy's seven-year-old niece Lavinia, and Maia had promised to produce them by Christmas—"to pass on to Father Christmas".
"Why won't Father Christmas make them?"
"Well, he's got six billion people to make presents for," Maia sighed, "admittedly, not all those six billion are Christian and in fact celebrate Christmas, so that's probably a bit of a relief for him, but still, cut the old man a break! I think he's earned the right to ask for a little help!"
"And be sure you tell Father Christmas you'd like stuff from Weasleys' Wizards Wheezes," George added, winking, and several of the boys gathered around them grinned.
"Coincidentally, we've got a few owl-order forms you can take home," Fred grinned, and pulled out several of them from his pocket, along with a set of eye-wateringly bright sticky-notes in the shape of arrows. "And just in case he's a bit busy and can't find his Nice List to check what you're down for, you can mark off all the things you want with these nice subtle pointers. Have fun."
"That should keep a few of them entertained for a while," George muttered, and Maia smirked, rolling her eyes, until someone tugged on the hem of her dress and she glanced down; several of Chummy's young nieces wanted her owl-order form so they could ask Father Christmas for things.
"Can we ask Father Christmas for a submission to The Talon, too?" one of them asked.
"I think you mean subscription," Maia smiled. "But we'll continue to send it to you, don't worry."
"Daddy says you should charge money for the magazine," one of the older nieces smiled, and Poppy, with whom she had been playing with most of the afternoon, asked what magazine they were talking about. The eldest of Chummy's nieces, fourteen-year-old Antonia, produced from her overnight-bag the last copy of The Talon Maia had sent her and her siblings, and soon The Talon was being passed around and read out by older ones so the younger ones could read it.
Several of the nieces wanted diaries with some of the princesses on from her fairytales, and very sweet Daisy, who had latched on to Opal instantly like an adoring limpid, had shyly, and around her thumb, asked for a dolly in likeness of Maia's rendition of Cinderella, Chummy having read her Maia's version of the fairytale. The idea of making dolls with clothes replicated from her illustrations was so tantalising she had found herself grinning and giggling with the younger girls; she asked the teenaged girls what they'd want out of their cosmetics shop, writing down detailed notes. The hair-dye sticks had been a big hit; at every table there was at least one person who had decided to try and test them out, so streaks of sparkling diamond, shining metallic bronze, vivid turquoise, glow-in-the-dark, scented lilac and shimmering rose-gold glowed in the light of the marquee.
While Maia chatted with Susan Bones, Katie Bell and several of Chummy's relatives, Poppy and May, Chumley's nieces Daisy, Astrid, Flossie and Maisie and nephews Drogo, Ephraim, Jethro and Dorium came over, and asked whether they could go to school.
Both the twins and Maia had had a lot of exposure for their inventions during the party: Maia demonstrated her nail-wraps, hair-dye sticks and designs for her cosmetics kits to the older set of teenagers and some fashion-minded kids who came for the party, as well as the homework-diaries, while the little ones loved the fairytales, the flavoured lip-glosses, the stationery and colouring-books. She had packed hers and the twins' order-catalogues, and gave out quite a lot that afternoon, and was surprised by how many of the older witches seemed highly interested in her cosmetics; the pocket-wirelesses were a huge success, with Dean promising to send an order for one as soon as he got home.
The cakes for Neville and Harry consisted of a Snitch-shaped concoction for Harry, and a crocquembouche tower for Neville, with several rings of different flavour crème-patissiere fillings creating a tier, dipped in melted sugar and stuck with Fizzing Whizbees and sparklers.
Opal was delighted that a huge vat of rich custard stood with bowls of 'fish fingers' to have with them, which were actually shortbread biscuits covered in a thin layer of orangey-gold pumpkin Sparking Sugar (which went off like popping-candy in your mouth).
After the dessert buffet was almost completely wiped out of every sweet thing Maia, Tink and Mrs Weasley could put together (including Maia's contribution of foreign desserts like the Moroccan 'Snake', her wide assortment of French patisserie, the inimitable four-layer Black Forest Gateau sprinkled with homemade kirsch; and Mrs Weasley's traditional English sweets, like summer pudding, trifle, jelly, apple pie, poached rhubarb-and-strawberries with either ice-cream or custard, strawberry-tart, steamed syrup-sponge pudding, custard-tart, bread-and-butter pudding, with small crates filled with fresh peaches, plums, dark and white-cherries, strawberries, apples), there were a few more games for the kids, including several Snitch-shaped piñatas that exploded sweets everywhere (Sirius and a few of the other adults pondered whether it mightn't be worth their while to invent piñatas that gave forth miniature bottles of alcohol for grown-ups) and when the babies were put to bed in their tents (after a few tantrums, of course), the pathway to the stage was lit, and Jack and the boys got up onstage. With the wide amphitheatre of grassy terraces for people to picnic on, there was a flat, semicircular space in front of the stage that Lance had wanted to keep for standing observers, but over the course of the evening it had been decided that a polished floor should be added, so people could dance to the numerous acts that weren't rock-bands, and where kiddies could be set up with little deck-chairs and blankets and watch the earlier acts.
So when the boys started playing, featuring their own material and a lot of Muggle and classic Wizard songs, the older children who were allowed to stay up started dancing; they were joined by the adults, and, gradually, a lot of the teenagers in attendance edged toward the dance-floor. The twins were, of course, in the very heart of the dancing, taking out unwary dancers, but they were surrounded by kids, who were all giggling delightedly at the goofiest of teenagers in the place, who were getting them to do all kinds of ridiculous dance-moves that had Maia doubled up as she tried to take photographs. She wasn't allowed to take photographs of the dancers all the time; her camera slung across her front, it was in danger of decapitating unwary kids as she danced energetically with George.
At midnight, the boys stopped playing; Jack called Harry and Neville onstage, and led everyone in singing "Happy Birthday". The evening ended with the twins letting off a firework display of some of the most exquisite fireworks Maia had ever seen; dragons wheeling around in the air, great shimmering golden explosions that fell, twinkling, into sparkling stars and fluttering butterflies the children loved to chase, explosions of sound accompanying fireworks of such diamond-bright colours and effects that everyone had paused to gaze up at the sky.
The Frabjous Chizpurfles' private gig at Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom's birthday party had been broadcast as the evening slot so neither Jack nor Vittorio nor even Sirius had to sit and chat into the microphone, though Lee Jordan had done a good job of filling an hour while Sirius had a drink and a chat earlier in the afternoon, and the wireless equipment was turned off for the night, the debris cleared from the dance-floor and the dining-marquee as people made their way along the illuminated pathway toward the camping-area.
The party didn't exactly stop after the gig ended, or because music no longer played on Radio Rock; campfires appeared here and there among the tents in the non-family-only camping-areas, normal ones and glittering purple ones, ones the colour of bluebells and one that wafted sparkling pink smoke into the air, with people drawing out secret caches of alcohol from their bed-rolls and picnic-baskets, sharing around the bottles and laughing, chatting, warmed by the fire and the warm night air, roasting things over the fire and just talking.
For a little while, Maia sat, cuddled up with George, laughing and chatting with the new people she had met, Hogwarts students she would be having lessons with in September, but with a yawn, and realising the time she had awoken, she retreated to the tent she and the twins had created for themselves, little more than a strip of embroidered cotton draped over a conjured frame. She crawled into her sleeping-bag, leaning on her pillow with her journal out in front of her, lying on her stomach so she could set a little bottle of ink on the grass, and illuminated their tent with a few golden bubbles that floated at the apex of the tent. The twins, lying either side of her already in their pyjamas inside their sleeping-bags, brought out their own notes, and while they listened, smiling, to the children giggling in their tents (having begged their parents to share with their new friends!) and the other teenagers chatting sleepily in their own tents, Maia wrote down a few more notes, then drifted off, the twins still murmuring quietly to each other.
A.N.: Pretty cool birthday-party, don't you think? Especially for a kid who hasn't had one his entire life, and I doubt Neville had much fun with all his elderly relatives invited over for tea and cake!