A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.

•~0~•

They left early the next morning, returning to the Burrow as fast as they could, much to the relief of Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh thank goodness, thank goodness! Arthur - I've been so worried - so worried -"

As she embraced Mr. Weasley, the latest copy of the Daily Prophet fell from her hands. It read: SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP, and had a picture of the Dark Mark for emphasis.

Mrs. Weasley, meanwhile, was now gripping the twins rather tightly.

"Ouch! Mum - you're strangling us -"

"I shouted at you before you left! It's all I've been thinking about! What if You-Know-Who had got you, and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn't get O.W.L.s? Oh Fred . . . George . . ."

Mr. Weasley comforted his wife, pulling her back inside while instructing Bill to grab the newspaper.

"I knew it," he said with a sigh. "Ministry blunders . . . culprits not apprehended . . . lax security . . . Dark wizards running unchecked . . . national disgrace . . . Who wrote this? Ah . . . of course . . . Rita Skeeter."

"That woman's got it in for the Ministry of Magic," Percy ranted hotly. "Last week she was saying we're wasting our time quibbling about cauldron thickness, when we should be stamping out vampires! As if it wasn't specifically stated in paragraph twelve of the Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans -"

Bill interrupted, yawning. "Do is a favor, Perce, and shut up."

Genevieve smirked.

As Mr. Weasley continued to read the article, he found mention of himself (unnamed) in it, Skeeter criticizing the Ministry for not releasing more information and alleging that bodies had been found at the scene.

"Molly, I'm going to have to go into the office; this is going to take some smoothing over."

"I'll come with you, Father," Percy stated with record arrogance. "Mr. Crouch will need all hands on deck. And I can give him my cauldron report in person."

"Oh, I'm sure he'll be thrilled," Genevieve said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. He glowered at her.

Mrs. Weasley protested, "Arthur, you're supposed to be on holiday! This hasn't got anything to do with your office; surely they can handle this without you?"

"I've got to go, Molly. I've made things worse. I'll just change into my robes and I'll be off . . ."

After asking Mrs. Weasley a question, Harry, along with Ron and Hermione disappeared. Genevieve took the time to ask her to mend her ankle.

"Oh, you poor dear! Having to hobble around in all that mayhem! It's a wonder you didn't get trampled on!" Mrs. Weasley fretted as she healed it.

Moving her slightly stiff ankle, she replied calmly, "I was fine, Mrs. Weasley. Your daughter took good care of me."

Mrs. Weasley simply beamed with pride.

•~0~•

Genevieve took the next week to read through her new books, which Mrs. Weasley had bought for her in Diagon Alley. She also spent a lot of time with Charlie, who told her about all of the dragons he was looking after and what they were like.

"The Hungarian Horntail is vicious. Can shoot fire forty feet, but it's more beautiful than you can imagine; I'll try and send you a sculpture of it for Christmas, but . . ." He smiled mysteriously. "You might get to see it before then."

Her jaw dropped.

"Don't tell Percy I said anything though; it's - "

" 'classified information, until such time as the Ministry sees fit to release it,' " Genevieve completed, in an uncanny impression of Percy.

He laughed.

"Exactly."

•~0~•

One day, Percy was complaining about all the Howlers the Ministry has been getting while Mrs. Weasley anxiously waited for Mr. Weasley to get home. Both of them had been at the Ministry everyday, from early morning to late night.

"Your father hasn't had to go into the office on weekends since the days of You-Know-Who," she said. "They're working him hard too hard. His dinner's going to be ruined if he doesn't come home soon."

Percy, in an effort to sound knowledgeable, said something rather dangerous. "Well, Father feels he's got to make up for his mistake at the match, doesn't he? If truth be told, he was a tad unwise to make a public statement without clearing it with his Head of Department first -"

Mrs. Weasley's reaction was immediate. "Don't you dare blame your father for what that wretched Skeeter woman wrote!"

Genevieve covered a smirk, burying her face in the book in front of her. It wasn't often that Percy got on the wrong side of Mrs. Weasley, after all.

Bill, not looking up from his chess game with Ron, said, "If Dad hadn't said anything, old Rita would have just said it was disgraceful that nobody from the Ministry commented. Rita Skeeter never makes anyone look good. Remember, she interviewed all the Gringotts Charm Breakers once, and called me 'a long-haired pillock'?"

Mrs. Weasley seized the opportunity. "Well, it is a bit long, dear. If you'd just let me -"

"No, Mum."

After a while, Mr. Weasley returned home. And, after another argument between Hermione and Percy, they were sent up to their room to finish packing. As Genevieve unwrapped the parcels, a midnight blue, almost sparkling material fell into her lap. She held it up. Dress robes.

Mrs. Weasley bustled in, delivering newly cleaned Hogwarts robes. She saw Genevieve with the fabric.

"Oh, do you like them? I thought they'd match your eyes nicely, dear."

"They're amazing. Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."

Mrs. Weasley smiled fondly at her, then turned to Ginny and Hermione.

"I've got some for you two as well; they were on the school list this year."

And with that, she left the room, leaving the girls to examine their robes.

"Mine are secondhand, no doubt," Ginny said, surveying hers. "But they're not bad."

"D'you think Ron and Harry know they have to wear dress robes?" Hermione asked curiously.

A door slammed upstairs.

"Yeah, I think so," Genevieve said.

•~0~•

The next morning was the day they left for Hogwarts. Mr. Weasley called goodbye to the girls, having to go into work early for some problem involving dustbins and Mad-Eye Moody, an Auror.

Interestingly, they took Muggle taxis to King's Cross, which was a bit of a struggle, as there were three cabs and ten passengers, each with a massive trunk and some having pets. Genevieve's own Snowflake watched with disdain as others clambered to get inside the taxi. Somehow, they made it to the station mostly unscathed (Crookshanks had scratched Ron, Hermione, and Harry in the chaos), and onto the platform.

Charlie gave her a bone crushing hug.

"Don't go breaking the rest of your bones," he warned her.

"No promises," she replied, eyes dancing.

As he hugged Ginny, he said, "I might be seeing you all sooner than you think."

"Why?" Fred pressured, eager to know what huge secret was happening at Hogwarts.

"You'll see. Just don't tell Percy I mentioned it . . ." He glanced at Genevieve. "It's 'classified information, until such time as the Ministry sees fit to release it,' after all."

"Yeah, I sort of wish I were back at Hogwarts this year," Bill said, staring at the train longingly.

"Why?" George asked, irritated.

"You're going to have an interesting year. I might even get time off to come and watch a bit of it . . ."

"A bit of what?" Ron was asking this time.

"Thanks for having us stay, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said, Genevieve nodding behind her.

"Yeah, thanks for everything, Mrs. Weasley."

With a few more mysterious comments, and one last hug from Charlie, the train departed.