Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the characters, the settings, or anything else that has come from JK Rowling's imagination. Nor do I own Lord Alfred Tennyson, "The Charge of the Light Brigade" or any of Tennyson's works.
Chapter 4: Final Preparations
Streaks of light threatened to blind Harry as he slowly awoke to an empty room. Ron, he mused, must have already gone downstairs for breakfast; Mrs. Weasley was always conscientious to allow Harry to sleep in after an especially arduous journey. Ron was never so lucky.
Shuffling about the room, Harry managed to throw on some reasonable clothes from his suitcase, which he assumed had been brought up something in the morning, while he slept. Wiping the sleep from his eyes and mussing up his already rumpled hair, Harry trudged downstairs, hoping that some breakfast had been left for him.
The living room was empty, except for a toppled wizards' chess game, yet Harry knew the house was not completely deserted by members of the Orders. Outside, in the back of the house, the deep jumble of voices could be heard – accentuated by an occasional shriek. Laughter, jokes, and discussions seemed to roam outdoors, leading Harry to wonder who had taken to the back yard – and what they were doing.
As he made his way towards the door, however, Harry's stomach made a sudden rumble. This reminder forced Harry to avert his path and move towards the kitchen, where he was lucky enough to find Mrs. Weasley placing some pieces of bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast onto a plate.
"Ah, you're awake, Harry! Here – we saved some breakfast for you…I need to go outside and help everyone. Hurry up and finish it – I'm sure we could use your help, also!" Mrs. Weasley greeted Harry.
Happily taking the blue porcelain plate, Harry took a seat at the kitchen table, his mouth full of bacon before noticing the brown-haired Chantielle sitting at the opposite side of the table.
Or, perhaps at the table was the wrong term, for Chantielle had propped her chair onto its back legs, leaning the wooden back of the chair against the kitchen's wall.
The strange newcomer held a tattered old book in her hands, and seemed completely engrossed in the world-worn pages, barely taking notice in Harry. Deciding not to disturb her, Harry continued with his breakfast, allowing his mind to take stock in what had happened within the past day. He had forgotten to tall Ron and Hermione he wouldn't be staying…
His thoughts were interrupted by Chantielle's sudden, deep sigh – concluded with the heavy thudding of the book being closed. Letting the chair clank back to the floor on all fours, Chantielle smiled – though tinged slightly with melancholy – at Harry who watched her with interest.
"Well then, I suppose we didn't get a proper introduction last night. Sorry 'bout that, but I s'pose you'll get used to it. 'Ello, I'm Chantielle –" She stuck out a slim hand towards Harry as she introduced herself. "Chantielle Ockley. And you're Harry Potter."
Quickly wiping his hands on a napkin, Harry shook the offered hand in greeting. "Nice to meet you." A pause entered the table as Harry studied the book that had been placed upon the table, his curiosity fueled by what she could be reading. Were they old curses? Something that could help the order?
"It's a book of Lord Alfred Tennyson's poems. Fantastic, really – one of my favorite authors." Her fingers traced the side of the timeworn book as she continued, "'Boldly they rode and well, Into the jaws of Death, Into the mouth of Hell Rode the six hundred...'"
Chantielle grinned as she looked up at Harry's confused face. "It's just one of his poems. 'The Charge of the Light Brigade'…ah, Bill! Come in to join us?"
Heavy footsteps alerted the two occupants of the kitchen to Bill's entrance, the oldest Weasley child seeking the solitude that he could barely find outside. His now-malformed face, caused by his attack only months before, broke into a grin as he took a seat next to Chantielle.
"Don't let mum see you talking to Chanti too much – you'll be put on laundry duty for a week," Bill casually joked.
The good-humoured jab towards Chantielle was met with a laugh from Harry. Rolling her eyes, Chantielle merely took Harry's plate (now devoid of any food that had been left over from breakfast) took the sink, quickly washing it.
"D'you want anything else for breakfast, Harry?"
As Harry shook his head 'no', Bill let out a friendly chortle. "You don't cook, Chantielle."
"I do so - " Chantielle retorted, sounding indignant. But as soon as she began, she quieted and grinned at herself. "You're right – I'd burn water if you gave me the chance. But I bake!"
The banter between the two continued for minutes, Harry slowly coming to the realization that they must have been friends from some time ago. Yet, he still burned with questions –
"Chanti's part of the Order of the Phoenix, Harry – in case you hadn't already assumed that," Bill interrupted Harry's thoughts.
"But – why – I mean….well, blimey! Ron, Hermione, and I spent nearly a year at Grimmauld Place. Or at least a few months – what I mean, I guess, is why didn't we see her - you?" Harry replied, quickly realizing he was referring to Chantielle in third person, while she was standing right there in the kitchen with them.
"Chanti joined nearly two years ago - " Bill began.
"But I really wasn't around Grimmauld Place that much. Or, if I was, I came late and slept through the days…it was better for me to keep a low profile those days," Chantielle explained.
"…Because of Mrs. Weasley? Were you two still arguing?"
Bill snorted into his laughter, missing Chantielle's face harden and her nose twitch in annoyance – either with remembrance of those days at Grimmauld Place, or these days arguing with Mrs. Weasley, Harry wasn't sure.
"No, it's just – well, some of the Order need to keep a low profile, y'know? We don't want all the Death Eaters to know who we all are. It makes us more…targets," she replied.
It made sense; Harry knew there were other members of the Order within London that he didn't know about – and there were even more with jobs that made it crucial that their connection with the Order remain concealed. Like Kingsley. But could Chantielle's job honestly warrant that kind of worry…?
"Molly and I didn't always argue so much. But, well, I guess she just needs someone to blame – and I have dutifully taken that spot in her mind," Chantielle continued as she made her way over to sit in her chair once again.
Bill grabbed for the old, crinkled book as Chantielle sat down, flipping the pages without truly reading them. "Stuck your nose in a book instead of coming out and helping with the wedding, eh, Chanti?"
Chantielle took the book back, receiving no resistance from Bill, and then used the thick book to whack Bill's shoulder. "Honestly. You, Fleur, and Molly have the whole house working out there – you don't miss me. Plus, I'll just get in another arguing match with your mother…"
"When's the wedding, exactly?" Harry questioned, realizing he had never received a letter from Ron – or anyone – telling him of the date. All he knew was that it would be this summer.
"Tomorrow," Bill grinned.
"Blimey!"
"Everyone's putting up enchantments as we speak – there's going to be a lot of people here that the Death Eaters don't like much, and everyone's a bit afraid that some of them might decide to show up –" Chantielle informed Harry.
"But we haven't told anyone about the wedding, except those that we were able to talk to in person – that's why we couldn't send you a letter about it, mate," Bill finished. "Well, I think I'll be needing to go back outside – mum and Fleur will have a fit if I go missing for too long."
Bill got up from the table and made his way from where he had come, leaving the new acquaintances at the table. An odd, subtly uneasy silence enveloped the room as the two took a moment to study each other.
"I s'pose we should go out and help, then?" Harry broke the silence – leading to a quick grin from Chantielle.
"You do that, then. Perhaps you'll see me out there – though I rather reckon I'd only get in the way."
It still took Harry a quarter of an hour to make it to the gnome-ridden backyard of the Weasleys. The grass wavered in an unusual sunny day, the earlier morning's dew drops having already dried up as the morning gave way to afternoon. The beautiful Fleur Delacour and Mrs. Weasley were busy directing Mr. Weasley and Charlie Weasley in an almost-comical display: both males were in the air (Charlie on a broom and Mr. Weasley tried to feeble hold onto a tree's trunk and branch) while trying to tie streamers from a central pole to the outside trees. The women were directing.
Harry scoured the yard for his two friends, and found them doing odd dances: first, they would hop close to the ground, diving into the underbrush, then start twirling around and then flinging the hands up and out. They were, of course, gnome-catching (for what good would it have for the nasty devils to be out and about during the wedding?) Hermione and Ron were joined by the identical twins, who, of course, were taking their opportunity to use their magic instead of catching the gnomes in the time-honored "tradition".
This, in turn, made it happen so that every couple of gnomes, one would land solidly on Mr. Weasley's head (or, in one terrific event, on Fleur's – who then ran, fuming, at the two men who apparated to a safe area of the house the moment they realized where the gnome had disappeared to).
It was with the younger group of four gnome-terrorizing witches and wizards that Harry joined, and a good deal of laughter and pranks continued throughout the day. Everyone stayed busy, some of the Order staying at the house to help with the last minute preparations, others coming and going, dropping by only to say hello, or give information as what they had found out about Death Eaters in London.
Bill worked hard, as did everyone, and could often be seen stopping and directing someone – or something – obviously trying to take care of his duties for the wedding.
The sun rose high in the sky, but as it hit its peak and started to slowly lower against the opposite sky, the thickening fog set in once again. The bustling household barely noticed, as the fog was a something expected as of late, but it only served to keep a reminder of the lingering danger that was waiting outside the safe doors of the Weasley household.
Slowly, one by one, the workers gave up on their last minute projects outside and retired to the softly glowing insides of the crooked house, finally leaving only Harry, Ron, and Hermione to their task that they had appointed themselves to. Truly, they had rid almost the whole yard of the gnomes, but they were enjoying being outside and the idle chatter that they found wrapped around them.
In the back of each of their minds, they realized that this day at the Weasley house may be the last in a long time, and none wanted to let it slip by.