The next three days at the Burrow went by in a blur of pick-up Quidditch, wizard chess, and card games. Harry hadn't realized how much he'd missed Ron and Hermione over the summer, and was glad that he had plenty of time to spend with them now that he'd finished his schoolwork. Ron and Hermione had finished theirs, too, and Hermione had since grown quite interested in Mrs. Weasley's copy of Madame Pringle's Guide to Wizard Etiquette.

"The chapter on weddings is fascinating!" she told them one night while Ron tried to teach Harry an Egyptian card game he'd just learned from Bill. "Now, it says here that wedding ceremonies for wizards and Muggles are similar, but their receptions are much different. 'In a wizard wedding, the wedding cake, which is traditionally colored violet and often charmed to sing, is eaten before the main meal.'"

"Dessert before dinner! Someone finally got it right," called Fred, ascending the staircase from the basement. He and George had spent the past three days helping their father scour the Bundimuns out of the basement as punishment for their adventure in Knockturn Alley. They entered the living room, threw themselves down on a couch, and took off their gloves.

Harry mused for a moment, which caused him to lose his hand to Ron. "Hermione," he said after Ron collected the cards and held the deck out on his palm, allowing it to shuffle itself, "Mrs. Figg told me that wizards wear dress robes to weddings. Does it say anything about that in your book?"

"Oh yes. It says dress robes are the conventional attire."

Harry paused. "Well, in those wedding pictures of my parents that Hagrid gave me, everyone is wearing Muggle clothes--my father and Sirius Black are wearing tuxedoes, and my mother has on a white gown."

Hermione thought for a moment. "Well, your mother was Muggle-born, wasn't she? She had probably dreamt of a Muggle wedding ever since she was a little girl."

Ron snickered. "Girls. Do you mean to tell me that you actually spend your free time 'dreaming of your wedding'?" He took on a high-pitched tone, clasped his hands together under his chin, and turned his eyes upward in mockery. "Tell me, do your daydreams involve that dreamy Gilderoy Lockhart?" He, Fred, George, and Harry laughed. Hermione turned pink.

"Ron, just because some boys don't think about what's going to happen five minutes into the future doesn't mean that no one does. Some of us actually give some thought to our futures!" she fumed.

"That reminds me," George blurted. He jabbed Fred in the ribs. Fred nodded and they climbed the stairs to their room.

"Wonder what they're up to?" Hermione said.

Ron sighed. "It's Fred and George. Same thing they're always up to- planning a gag that will turn Mum's hair gray."

***

Harry and Hermione were invited to attend the wedding rehearsal with the Weasleys on the evening of August 28. Much to Harry's dismay, they were to travel to the Clearwaters' house in Norwich by Floo powder.

"Now Harry," said Mr. Weasley after everyone but the two of them had stepped into the fireplace, "Remember, just step into the flames, say 'Clear Lake Manor', and hold your elbows in." He gave Harry a reassuring pat on the back. Harry apprehensively did as he was told, and was quite surprised to land on his feet, uninjured, in the Clearwaters' fireplace a few seconds later.

As he stepped out, he surveyed the room. A crowd of at least twenty people had already gathered in the large parlor where he now stood. The Clearwaters' house, which Harry figured must be very large indeed, was evidently an old place, and very fine: the floors were made of pure marble, and oil portraits of venerable-looking witches and wizards hung on the walls. The subjects of the paintings all sat alert and dignified, as though they had been told to be on their best behavior for the occasion.

A tall, rather bald man with a kind face walked toward Harry, but his gaze was fixed behind him at Mr. Weasley, who had apparently just emerged from the fireplace.

"Arthur! It's wonderful to see you again. Welcome!"

"Thank you, Robert," Mr. Weasley responded, brushing the soot off his robes. He shot Harry a look that showed his approval at Harry's performance with the Floo powder and winked at him before continuing. "We're all very happy to be here. Robert, I think Percy mentioned that we would be bringing a couple of guests ..."

"Harry Potter," the man called Robert spoke softly as he noticed Harry for the first time. His eyes did the all-too-familiar flicker up to the scar on Harry's forehead. "Welcome, Harry! It's very nice to meet you."

"Very nice to meet you, too," Harry replied, trying to sound as polite as possible.

"And this is Hermione Granger, another friend of Ron's from school." Hermione had been standing on the other side of Harry, as she had come out of the fireplace just ahead of him. Mr. Weasley pointed to the bald man. "Harry, Hermione, this is Mr. Robert Clearwater."

Mr. Clearwater waved his hand dismissively. "Just call me Robert," he said as he reached out and shook Hermione's hand.

"Mr. Clearwater--er, Robert--is on the board of trustees of Gringotts bank," Mr. Weasley explained. Harry and Hermione nodded.

"Oh, Arthur, let's not bore the kids talking about work," Mr. Clearwater chuckled. "Come on in and meet everyone. Everyone, this is Harry and Hermione," he spoke to the crowd. Several faces looked over, and some waved and smiled. Penelope and Percy made their way through the crowd. Percy shook Harry's hand.

"It's very good to see you, Harry," he said stiffly. He leaned over and whispered in Harry's ear. "Really, I'm so glad you could make it ... when Ron told me you'd declined ... well, everyone was hoping to meet you ... I was so glad when you wrote back and said you'd come." Harry just smiled and nodded awkwardly.

Penelope had walked over and hugged Hermione, apparently to Hermione's surprise. "And it's good to see you again!" she cried. "You know, I just realized I never did thank you ... the basilisk, in my sixth year, that business with the mirror ... I reckon you saved my life."

Hermione looked genuinely moved. "Well, I ... it was nothing, really." She blushed.

"Come on, let's introduce you around," said Percy, putting his arm around Harry's shoulder and steering him into the crowd. Penelope and Hermione followed. They exchanged introductions and pleasantries with at least a dozen people, none of whom Harry could remember half an hour later as he and Hermione sat, along with a few of the Clearwaters' guests who also weren't in the wedding, in chairs that had been set up in the garden. As night fell, they watched the Weasleys and Clearwaters rehearse the wedding ceremony.

"Oh, this will be so enlightening!," Hermione enthused. "Just think of all the wizarding customs and traditions we'll be exposed to."

Harry was too hungry to think about being exposed to anything but a plateful of food. He watched the wedding party take their places at the far end of the garden. On Percy's right was Bill, the best man ("Apparently Percy has always sort of idolized Bill," Ron had told Harry). To his right were Charlie, Fred, George, and Ron. On Penelope's left stood a brunette who Harry hadn't met, two familiar-looking Ravenclaw girls from Penelope's year, and Ginny.

"Who's the one standing next to Penelope?" Harry asked.

Hermione looked over at the bridesmaids. "Must be that Persephone Green, eh? Hmm ... Doesn't look much like an Auror, does she?"

Harry nodded. Judging from the way the Weasleys had teased Charlie, he had expected a female version of Mad-Eye Moody, complete with scars and missing pieces. But Persephone Green looked entirely normal- attractive even. Her hair wasn't curly like Penelope's; instead, it fell in long, dark waves down her back. She was smiling at her sister, but she had sort of a sad smile. Her green eyes twinkled familiarly. She reminded Harry of someone, but he couldn't say who.

"Does she remind you of anyone?" he asked Hermione.

She frowned. "Yeah, now that you say it, she does. Not quite sure who, though." Harry and Hermione spent the rest of the rehearsal wracking their brains trying to place Persephone, but an hour later they found themselves seated inside at the dinner table, with no more idea who she resembled than they'd had at first.

Harry and Hermione were seated at the long table next to Ron and across from Persephone, Penelope, Percy, and Bill. House-elves walked in humbly, bowing and bearing plate after plate of food. Mrs. Weasley looked impressed, but Hermione merely grunted her disapproval. Persephone Green looked across the table and smiled.

"I don't think I've met you yet," she said. "You must be Hermione Granger? And you," she said, turning to Harry with a blank look, "I don't think I got your name ...?" She trailed off, as though she had no idea who he was.

"Uh, my name's Har--" Finally Persephone broke down and laughed at his astonished look. Harry laughed, too.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist. I'll bet you don't get that much, do you?" she chuckled. "My name is Persephone Green." She reached across the table and shook both their hands. A look flashed across her face that reminded Harry almost painfully of that person he and Hermione couldn't quite recall. He tried hard to remember.

"Ah, you're trying to place me. Well, I don't think we've met before. Although I reckon you know my grandfather, Albus Dumbledore." Then it hit Harry: that was it! Her eyes twinkled just like Dumbledore's.

Hermione was taken aback. "How did you know we were trying to place you? And Professor Dumbledore is your grandfather?"

"Yes," Persephone responded. "He's my mother's father. But I'm afraid she isn't with us any longer." She paused for a second, then took a rather large helping of green beans.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Harry interjected. Persephone took a drink from her wineglass and shook her head.

"No, no, it happened a very long time ago. You see that woman down there--" she gestured toward the other end of the table, "sitting next to my father?" Harry and Hermione noted the pleasant-looking curly-haired woman. "She's my stepmother, and Penelope's Mum."

"Stop, Persephone, you'll confuse them," laughed Penelope.

Ron leaned over to Harry and Hermione. "Did you know Dumbledore ever had a family?" They both shook their heads. But something else was puzzling Hermione.

"Miss Green ... just now, you said we were trying to place you. How did you know that?"

Percy caught this and puffed out his chest proudly. "Well, I told you Persephone's an Auror. But, I mean to say, she's not just any Auror ... She's a Summoner!" Clearly he was overjoyed to be marrying into a family distinguished enough to contain a Summoner, whatever that meant.

Harry figured that he was supposed to be impressed. He tried to recall whether he had ever heard the term used before. Persephone laughed again.

"You poor thing, we are confusing you, aren't we? Never mind, Percy."

But Percy wouldn't be put off. "Harry," he expounded authoritatively, "a Summoner is a particular type of Auror. You know that Aurors catch Dark wizards. Well, a Summoner catches Dark wizards specifically for the purpose of turning them back from the Dark Side. Very dangerous job, and very prestigious. The Ministry currently employs forty-two Aurors, and only three are Summoners."

"But how? I mean, how do they turn wizards back from the Dark side?" asked Ginny, from down the table. Everyone appeared to be listening.

Percy was in his element now. Persephone looked at him, amused. "Go on, Percy, tell her."

"Well," he began, "Summoners are appointed based on their talent for reading other people's attitudes and emotions. Not their minds, you understand--mind-reading has been considered a Dark Art since the Warlocks' Convention of 1289." He took a deep breath. "After being appointed, a Summoner is assigned a veteran Summoner as a mentor, and then trained by the mentor to sharpen that talent for 'reading' people. Summoners use this ability to identify Dark wizards, especially Dark wizards who they think are likely to abandon their Dark ways with a little prompting."

"Very good, Percy," Persephone responded.

Hermione was intrigued. "So you can read people's emotions?"

Persephone turned toward her. "Yes. It was difficult at first, but now I've been doing it so long that it's second nature ... So you understand why, when you were trying to remember who I reminded you of, I sensed your confusion and frustration. I hate that feeling of having something on the tip of my tongue!"

Hermione looked thoughtful. Everyone else around the table started conversing again, Percy's little display being at an end.

"You're not quite comfortable being 'read', understood," Persephone said quietly. "Listen, I apologize, and if you don't want me to, I'll try my best not to do it again. But look!" she laughed, "I'm doing it again. You see how difficult it is for me to stop."

Hermione laughed forgivingly in response. "It's alright. I'm just not used to it, you know."

"Tell me, what year are you three?" Persephone asked. They told her they were about to begin their fifth year at Hogwarts. She continued asking them questions about school, and they filled her in on some of their adventures over the past four years--though they left out the part about last term and Voldemort's return to power. A thought suddenly struck Harry.

"You're Professor Dumbledore's graddaughter. He must have told you ... I mean, I reckon your family must all know ..."

Persephone understood what he was getting at. "Yes. I received a very interesting owl from my grandfather last summer. Very interesting." She looked grave and spoke lowly. "My parents and sister know, though Penny has her doubts. And I've been getting word to all the Aurors, but it isn't easy, not with Fudge on the alert. He's been saying he won't put up with 'any of these crazy rumors started by Dumbledore'. I tell you, it's very difficult to work for someone like that. But most of the Aurors do believe my grandfather. As a group, they respect him very much and value his opinion. Not to mention the opinions of Alastor Moody and Arabella Figg."

"Oh! How is Professor Moody?" Hermione asked.

"He's good." Persephone smiled wryly. "Though I must say he has gotten a bit more paranoid, if that were possible. But who can blame him, after his ordeal last year?" She paused. "I'll be honest with you kids. I'm concerned. I don't know what's coming, but I don't think it will be good, and I don't think it will be easy. We've all got to be watching."