A/N: I've got to say that I had never, ever written a chapter as big as the wedding's. So, what did I do? I split it in two! And what's the size of this half? 20 pages and 10k words. Yeah, I know, I'm insane but I got inspired. So, sorry it took so long but big chapters and short free time lead to this...
So, I give you The Wedding pt 1, featuring mostly the kid's POVs.
Note: There are refferences (though no intentional quoting aside from a sentence Dumbledore's will) from Chapter 7: The Will of Albus Dumbledore of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.
The day of the wedding started far too early for Izzy, never mind that she'd woken up long past nine in the morning. Basically, any hour would be too early that day as she was definitely not looking forward to it.
Starting with that sparkling golden thing that she was supposed to wear – a golden thing that had already given her far more grief then one would expect in the form of a crush on a certain Weasley brother –, continuing with the fact that she was set to be on the wrong end of Fleur's bridal nerves that day and ending with having to take part on the wedding march, the day was just asking to be a disaster. A very crappy disaster when one added to the equation the fact that Harry would also be leaving for his bloody Horcrux hunt just as soon as Fleur tossed the bouquet.
Looking at the mirror over her dresser only to see a messy-haired, pyjama-clad and annoyed-looking version of herself, she huffed and wished it were possible for her to just stay in bed and sleep through the whole thing. If only…
Still indulging a foul morning mood, she left her bedroom minutes later and only took a moment to see if Harry had already left his room to go downstairs, which seemed to be the case. It was disconcerting how clean his room looked – not like Harry's messy self at all. It gave her an odd feeling that cleaning his room for once was some sort of farewell gift to her mother… She shook her head at that. "Don't be stupid, you moron," she told herself under her breath – now she was seeing farewells in everything. Things just kept getting better. Next thing she'd know, she'd be reading a 'so long, Izzy' in him kindly passing her the butter over breakfast.
Shaking her head, she made her way down the stairs, only pausing to look up when she heard a loud laugh, courtesy of her younger brother Alex, echoing from upstairs followed by her father's voice.
"… splashing thing was funny at first but it's getting kind of annoying, mate… Holy crap did you just summon the soap?… No, don't throw it at Daddy… ah, come on! Damn it… Mia, get in here! He's summoning stuff!" he yelled in a completely despaired tone. "Help! Kreacher!"
Listening to that, she was able to forget her bad mood for a moment and felt tempted to go upstairs just to make that better mood it last – watching her father enduring her brother's bath-time was always fun. She changed her mind a few moments later, though, when she realized she might end up on the wrong end of a splash or, worse, that her father might dump the task of finishing Alex's bath, which was always the basic equivalent to a small-scale naval battle, on her. That might not contribute to brightening her day and then there she would be – enduring a foul mood and soaked from head to toe. Still, she couldn't resist poking her father at least just a little. "Hang in there, Daddy!" she yelled up the stairs.
"Izzy?" she heard him asking before he poked his head into the well between the flights of stairs. In the background, Kreacher's voice seemed to be attempting to scold Alex, although his giggling didn't really indicate he was listening at all. "You know, I could use a little hand up here."
"Sorry, can't hear you," she lied, pointing at her ears. "You're so far up."
"Yes you can! I'm just a floor above you! Don't think I haven't used that excuse a thousand times," he told her.
"What?" she asked, still pretending not to hear. "Must be the wards or something. They're blocking the sound."
He glared at her. "Yeah, I'll give you the blocking…"
"What's going on?" her mother's voice said in the background. "Dear Merlin, there's water everywhere! Sirius!"
"Hey, your son did it, not me!" her father replied just as he disappeared from her view upstairs.
"Oh, Alex!" Mia's voice said with a loud sigh. "This is the first signs magic, you know? It drives them a little mad at first because they're not used to it – it's like they're overcharged or something. You should have seen Harry – I thought I'd have to move him to the shed until it was over."
"Here's to hoping it's over soon!" Sirius replied in the background.
"It usually calms down after a week or so – the bursts of magic and being hyper. But if he's anything like Izzy he'll get tired as easily as he gets buzzed."
"Oh, really?" he said before his head appeared again in Izzy's sight, leaning over the railing. "I'd say she never quite grew out of being a brat."
"That makes two of us, Daddy," she responded, grinning up at him with a wicked look in her face.
"Oh, now she can hear! How convenient," her father said, dryly. "Traitor."
"Izzy?" Her mother suddenly appeared by her father side, holding a towel-wrapped Alex on her hip. "Shouldn't you get dressed, honey? Fleur could probably use you at the Burrow."
Izzy groaned. "Can't I just show up when it's time for the ceremony? Please?"
"Izzy, you signed up to be a bridesmaid – that means you're supposed to help the bride getting ready," Mia stated.
"Well, the wedding's not until five in the afternoon," she pointed out. "And I only signed up to be a bridesmaid because I went temporarily insane." Which, in her own logic, wasn't a lie at all – after all, she'd have never given in if it wasn't for the shock of finding she… fancied George… in a romantic way… possibly… Damn it!
Sirius cleared his throat. "Well, in normal circumstances, maybe I'd help you come up with an excuse to get you out of this hellish task but right now I only have one thing to say: you're on your own, Izzybel," her father told her, looking at her victoriously just as Alex giggled on his mother's arms like he agreed with his father. "And now, if you excuse me, I'll go take a shower." With that, he disappeared from her sight once again.
"Catch," her little brother said before flinging what seemed to be a yellow rubber duck at her – a gift, she recalled, he'd received from Mr. Weasley, of course. Who else would give away Muggle toys with such excitement?
Alex did have a flawless aim, she had to admit, as she barely had to move in order to catch it, since the rubber duck fell right on her hands.
"Honey, don't throw things at Izzy," her mother scolded him one floor above, making her son grimace.
"It's duck, Mama," Alex told their mother like it justified everything.
"A duck that I'm holding hostage until further notice," Izzy informed the little boy, who gave her a confused look in return. Hostage seemed to be quite the new word for him, she concluded at some point. "You'll get it back if you're a good boy."
Alex frowned. "Mean," he told his mother, pointing at Izzy
"Pest," his sister replied, shooting him an ugly face. He tried to reply in the same manner but was unsuccessful as the face he shot her was actually rather cute.
Mia shook her head and sighed. "Is Harry up?" she finally asked. She'd checked to see if he was still in his room at about four that morning, right after Mary's night feeding and had been pleased to still find him there. Still, it appeared that day she was set to be constantly in a panic that he'd suddenly disappear and head into his quest sooner than he was meant to, even though she knew that him leaving was simply inevitable.
"Yes," her daughter replied. "He's probably having breakfast. I was going down there now."
Mia nodded. "Well, hurry up eating and getting dressed, then. Fleur's waiting for you," she told her daughter before finally walking away with her youngest son in her arms, telling him they were going to check on Mary.
Annoyed at the fact that, at this rate, there was no getting out of bridesmaid duty, Izzy made her way down the stairs, her hands absently fidgeting with her brother's yellow rubber duck.
It was clearly all George's fault – why did he have to be so… nice sometimes? Why couldn't he just be some clown who joked around all the time and didn't have silly girls falling for him all of a sudden? Idiot, she thought. Why did she have to go and fancy a bloke that she could never avoid because their families were so close together? It didn't even make any sense: he was older, way past school girls and was unlike anything she'd ever dated, physically or mentally-wise. A prankster. Merlin, it was like she was dating a clone of her Dad… She shivered. Thinking of that only made it worse as she suddenly recalled that old, completely mental saying about girls always falling for guys like their fathers. That was just weird.
Truth was, she'd been so lost in her thoughts while making her way down that she didn't even notice reaching the stairs that led down to the basement kitchen or the familiar voices coming from it. Voices that, while familiar, didn't quite belong in that house. If she'd stopped just for a moment, maybe she wouldn't have gotten such a shock at entering the kitchen. Think of the devil, she thought, and it shows right up.
"No, you're not seeing double," one of the twins told her, grinning.
"We really do look this much alike, in case you haven't noticed before," the other added.
She remained silent, staring at them in disbelief and then at Harry, who occupied the chair across the table from the twins, which had its back turned to her, although he'd twisted his position on it so he could face her. "What... what are you doing here?"
"Oh, please don't be so welcoming," one of the twins said in a mock-begging tone. "You're making us blush."
Even though she couldn't quite check the freckle trick Ginny had taught her in order to check which twin was which as her eyes couldn't quite focus from the shock of unexpectedly seeing them there, in her kitchen, Izzy was quite sure the last one to speak would be Fred. She wasn't sure why at the moment, though later she would realize that, at some point, she'd learned that Fred's voice was always just a little bit higher that George's and that he always tended to beat his twin to being the first to crack a joke.
"What's with the rubber duck?" George asked her, chuckling.
It took her a few seconds to decode what he'd said and realizing he meant the toy in her hand, the one belonging to her brother. "Oh… Alex tossed it at me," she replied, unsure of what to do next. She actually just stood there… in her pyjamas… and with bed hair still on. Oh, Merlin.
"Are you planning to just stand there?" Harry asked after a few seconds, pulling a chair resting next to his for her to sit on.
"What?" she mumbled at first before coming to her senses. "Oh, right… sorry, I was just… thinking."
"Still a bit slow in the morning?" Fred asked.
"Sure," she mumbled as she sat down and placed the rubber duck on the centre of the table.
"They're here just to bring me the polyjuice for my disguise for the wedding," Harry explained. "You know, Mad-Eye's mental plan to keep me hidden from prying eyes during the wedding."
"Oh," she mumbled, thankful Harry had provided an explanation before she had to ask again. Yet suddenly, she couldn't help frowning and turning to the twins as something occurred to her. "Wait, why would Mad-Eye ever put you in charge of that?"
George stared at her, a mock-offended look on his face. "I don't know, Isabelle, maybe because we're trustworthy members of the Order of the Phoenix?"
"I might have believed that if you'd left the 'trustworthy' part out," she told him, ending up surprising herself.
She'd expected addressing George directly would feel awkward, given her… newfound feelings for him. That was the thing about crushes, wasn't it? One stammered and endlessly embarrassed him or herself around the person in question. Ginny certainly did it around Harry in their first year at school a lot. So how come her reply to George had come out so… naturally? Now that she was there, talking face-to-face with him, it was like there was something about him that made the crush not so… embarrassing. And, Merlin, how that relieved her… Something to scratch off from her list of reasons on why that day was meant to be a disaster.
Both twins gave her appalled looks at what she'd just said. "Isabelle Something Black!" Fred said out loud in a scolding manner.
"Kathleen," she mumbled, getting confused looks from Fred a George in return. "My middle name is Kathleen."
"Oh," Fred mumbled before clearing his throat. "Isabelle Kathleen Black!" he corrected himself before pausing and turning to his twin for a sidebar comment. "I don't know… 'Something' had a better ring to it."
George nodded like he agreed completely. "There is something about pronouns in a name…"
"Hilarious," she said dryly, narrowing her eyes. "Just get to the point."
"Relax, Isabelle. We're just saying," George mumbled. "But, anyway, do you really have that little faith in us?"
Harry cleared his throat. "She does have a point – it doesn't seem like Mad-Eye to put two recent members of the Order in charge of," he made quotation signs with his hands, "'such a vital plan', according to him. Especially one involving polyjuice after what happened to him in my fourth year…"
Fred and George looked at each other for a moment before shrugging. "Fine," George said. "We offered to handle the polyjuice part of today's plan since you're supposed to be impersonating a cousin of ours, after all."
"Mad-Eye wasn't all that eager to let us do it but since the Order's already swamped as it is, he ended up giving him after we solemnly swore we wouldn't mess with the polyjuice, which, by the way, he provided himself," Fred said.
"There may or may not have been an unbreakable oath involved in the whole swearing part…" George said under his breath, rolling his eyes.
Both Izzy and Harry stared at them in disbelief.
"An unbreakable oath? Are you mad?" Harry practically shouted. He couldn't believe they'd take an unbreakable oath for him.
Izzy's reaction was just as intense. "You could die, you moron. What were you thinking? What if you messed with the potion by accident or something?"
"Relax!" Fred said. "It wasn't an actual unbreakable oath."
"Though we did think it was at the time," George confessed. "It's this thing Mad-Eye uses to test people. Usually if they're willing to literally swear their lives in what they're promising, it tends to be true…"
"How sure are you that he didn't just tell you that so you'd relax about having an unbreakable oath hovering over your heads when, in fact, it's still there?" Harry asked, a bit uncertain. Mad-Eye was know his unorthodox plans after all. And no one would've caught so many Death Eaters in their lives without a dose of trickery.
"I don't know about… 50% sure?" Fred said, turning to George.
"Something like that," he agreed. "But I guess there's only one way we'll know for sure… What do you think?"
Fred shrugged. "Why not?" he responded as the two non-twins at the table looked between them, trying to figure out what they were on about.
"We'll just need to borrow that," George said, reaching to steal the glass of pumpkin juice sitting opposite Harry on the plate.
He raised his eyebrows. "What are you doing?"
"Testing your theory, Potter," Fred replied, reaching into his robes for what seemed to be a small metal hip flask and starting to uncap it. By his side, George seemed ready to pour the pumpkin juice into it.
"Wait, are you mad?" Izzy yelled when she figured out what they were up to. "Stop it! Are you trying to get yourselves killed? Damn it, George, put that glass down now!"
He did. And then, both he and Fred proceeded to burst into a fit of laughter. A big one.
"It's not funny!" she said loudly before elbowing Harry by her side. "Tell them it's not funny!"
"Actually, it sort of is," he replied, fighting hard not to laugh. "That's not the polyjuice, Izzy. I mean, they're mad but not that mad that they'd kill themselves for a joke."
"This is… firewhiskey," Fred said between laughs. "Mum…" He paused and took a breath before trying to talk again. "Mum's forbidden booze before the wedding but we figured Bill could use a drink before it to take the edge of, so we're smuggling it for him." He promptly passed her the flask. "Go ahead. Sniff it."
She did. And, Merlin, it was… "You two can be such jerks sometimes," she barked.
"It's just a joke. The real polyjuice is with me," George said, removing a second flask out of his robes and showing it to them.
"Give me that," Izzy said, reaching across the table and unceremoniously stealing the flask from George's hands.
"Hey!" he complained as she passed it to Harry.
"Shut up! I was half-expecting you two to drop dead just as soon as that pumpkin juice hit the flask," she admitted in annoyance.
"Oh, come on! We wouldn't put our arses on the line like that. We'd rather live until we're old and senile," he told her. "Merlin's pants, you'll just believe anything, won't you?"
She glared and pursed her lips together, too annoyed to talk. For a moment, just a little moment, she could almost convince herself that her fancying that bloke was purely something out of her imagination. Almost. He could be such an idiot sometimes. And such a sweet bloke other times. She was doomed.
Harry cleared his throat at that. "Er… maybe it's best if we get back to where we were before this… odd interlude," he suggested.
"Right," Fred agreed. "So… where were we? Ah, yes, we swore to Mad-Eye we wouldn't mess with the polyjuice."
"Which we didn't," George added, sending Izzy a look.
"Then he provided the potion himself and basically we just had to hunt for redheads to steal hair from," Fred explained.
"There may have been a stunt related to a fake barber shop in Glasgow with free haircuts for a day involved," George stated, snorting. "Lee Jordan swears he'll shave his whole head off on of his days – we had him on hair-cutting duty all day. He nearly hacked off some bloke's ear."
"I'm sure the guy who nearly lost his ear would find it funny too," Izzy murmured, half-distracted looking at the yellow rubber duck on the table.
"So, I take it you found a decent disguise for me the middle," Harry said.
Fred groaned. "Oh, we did. We really did."
"It was fate that bloke enter the barber shop," George mumbled, sighing theatrically like he was telling them some sort of love story.
"And how did he look like?" Harry asked, suspicious with their excitement.
"Well, picture Ron in your head," Fred tried to describe. "Now imagine what he'd look like if a Bludger had bashed his face in and he had nose so crooked that he could probably kiss the tip of it if he tried really hard."
"Honestly, the bloke had to have been in some sort of mutilating accident because no one can be born with a nose that crooked," George observed before turning to Fred. "Oh, and remember the leg?" he asked, looking at Harry and Izzy again. "He had a leg like four inches shorter than the other."
While Harry looked at them, appalled, by her side, Izzy simply looked at the two with an eyebrow raised. "You do realize that Mad-Eye wanted Harry disguised because he wanted him to go unnoticed, right? He'll kick your arses if he gets a wind of that description."
"Well, unfortunately, he won't have to because it reached Ginny's ears first," George pointed out.
"Honestly, it's like she has ears all over the Burrow," Fred commented. "It's weird."
His twin rolled his eyes. "I know…"
Harry cleared his throat. "And…?" he asked, hopeful Ginny had solved the problem.
"And she demanded to choose which guy you'd wear as a disguise," George said. "We had, also unfortunately, taken several samples of hair, some pretty average blokes included…"
"Hold up," Izzy interrupted him. "How could you even tell the hair apart? Which belonged to who and everything…"
"Oh, we always took a photo of the bloke before and… well, we'd take one after too but they were usually too pissed off over Lee's haircutting skills by then to let us. In any case, we bagged the hair with a photo in it. Very organized."
"Yes. Our traitor of a brother whose name shall not be mentioned would be proud," Fred mumbled dryly. "In any case…" He reached inside his robes and removed what seemed to be a Muggle polaroid photo from an inside pocket, passing it to Harry. "There you go."
Harry reached for it immediately first and was more than relieved to find a rather average-looking redhead with blue eyes in it. Nothing like the disaster the twins had described. "Oh, thank Merlin," he mumbled.
"Let me see," Izzy said, taking the picture away from him and giving a look at it herself. "Cute."
George huffed in annoyance. "More like boring," he mumbled. "And with really girlish hands, though you can't see them in that picture. Really tiny ones. And I think they were painted with translucent polish and everything," he informed her
His twin nodded in agreement. "Blokes with painted nails… Angie says you should never trust a bloke with perfect nails because they're all jerks."
"Real plunkers," George agreed.
Izzy raised one eyebrow at them, mainly at George. "It appears I'm into jerks," she said, mostly to annoy him, though, at the moment, from that earlier fake polyjuice stunt, she felt like her statement had a dose of truth in it. Yet, that girlish part of her completely drooling over her crush couldn't help wondering for a moment if he was just making the girlish-hands thing up to get her to take back her 'cute' comment. Probably not, she concluded soon enough, calling herself dumb. Why would he even care if she found some picture-bloke even slightly attractive? She'd really just said it to cheer Harry up, anyway… She cleared her throat, then. "You sure you really added this bloke's hair to the potion?"
"Of course we did," Fred said immediately.
Harry looked at them, doubtfully… "Really sure?"
"Completely sure," George told him.
"Would you like us to take some veritaserum to confirm it?" Fred offered confidently.
Izzy eyed them both for several seconds only to see they looked awfully sure of themselves. Still, although she had to accept they certainly seemed honest enough when they swore it was the right bloke's hair, something on their voices… or maybe their faces… something told her they were far too okay with Ginny picking the bloke Harry would disguise as for there not to be a trick hidden in their sleeves. At this rate, she really had to trust that, whatever it was, wouldn't risk Harry's disguise.
"You know, there's something to be said about your own girlfriend wanting to choose the way you'll look like not that you'll have to change you're appearance," Fred told Harry. "Maybe it's some sort of hint for you to change your style a little."
Harry frowned. "My…" he paused and grabbed the picture again. "Ginny wouldn't do that."
"I don't know… sometimes you really have to read between the lines," George added. "It's probably the hair – a lot less messier in this bloke."
"Stop trying to mess with his head," Izzy told them. "As if it isn't bad enough he has to go to your brother's wedding in disguise…"
"Oh, and speaking of the wedding," George said, pointing at her. "We have orders from Fleur. You're to report to the Burrow as soon as possible."
"In fact, we're not to go back without you in a tow…"
Izzy let out a strangled sound of annoying that had the twins snorting. For a moment, she'd allowed herself to forget she was going to be a bridesmaid. "Holy…" she mumbled. "Tell her I got ill. Tell her I fell into a coma overnight and won't be waking up until tomorrow."
George raised an eyebrow at her. "I don't think so, Isabelle. If I recall it well, you promised me a dance at the reception. I always collect."
Harry's face look confused. "What? She can't dance."
"That makes two of us," George told him. "At least I won't look stupid alone."
"Always a good strategy," Fred agreed with an approving nod.
"The point is: if I have to go to that wedding in those stupid robes Mom's making us wear, so have you," George let her know.
She groaned painfully and leaned face-down onto the table. "Damn you," she mumbled and not just because he didn't seem interested on helping her get out of the wedding.
"Well, will you come on your own or will we have to drag you behind us?" she heard one of the twins saying before raising her head and seeing it was Fred. "Ginny told us to drag you if we had to. She said you were the one who signed up for this, so you'd better stick to it 'till the end."
"I wouldn't have signed up if it wasn't for a certain someone blocking my exit," she countered, glaring at the person in question.
George smirked at her. "At least you got a pretty dress out of it."
She pursed her lips together and inhaled deeply. Honestly, what annoyed her the most was that him calling the stupid dress 'pretty' had her, once again, mooning over his words of a few days before, comparing the colour of the dress to the colour of her eyes. How pitifully girlish… "How mental is Fleur today?"
"Well, we haven't really seen her yet," Fred said. "Now, as for hearing…"
"She's loud," George provided. "And very French. We've learnt a few curse words and everything. As a friend, I'll advise you not to cross her. As an even better friend, I'll advise you to make a run for it while we pretend not to see it."
"Though that might involve staying in hiding for a few decades until she forgets the whole thing," Fred added.
Izzy groaned and sank further on her chair.
"Hey, at least you'll be wearing your own skin and won't have to down the most disgusting potion in the world every hour," Harry told her.
"LThat does put things into perspective," George honestly commented before turning to Izzy. "So, what will it be? Shall we pretend to get distracted so you can run for it?"
She huffed. Like that was going to solve anything. As Harry had pointed out, there were worse things in the world than being a bridesmaid. "Fine, I'll go," she heard herself saying seconds later as she got up. "Just let me go change upstairs."
"That's the attitude we expect from the child of a Marauder," Fred said. "Take it like a man… or, you know…"
George nodded. "If you get killed in the line of bridesmaid duty, I promise we'll cry for you. Manly."
"If I get killed in the line of bridesmaid duty, I'll haunt you for all eternity," she countered, making her way out. And, just before she started climbing up the stairs, she took a step back to look at the twins again. "And when I make you both cry for your mother, it will be anything but manly."
The Weasleys did know how to throw a party – Harry had to give them that. Then again, the fact that the only wedding he'd ever been to before had happened in his godparent's dining room might be the reason why he was so impressed.
The binding ceremony had been a tasteful affair with nothing eventual happening aside from the actual binding. Yet, if anyone asked Harry what had been said or done by the bride and groom during it, though, he wouldn't really be able to tell as he'd been too busy watching the only redheaded bridesmaid throughout the whole thing. True, he's seen that golden dress on Izzy when she'd first tried but, Merlin, on Ginny it was just something else… he actually found it hard to describe. He honestly couldn't understand Izzy and Ginny's fuss over their dresses.
Little after five o'clock in the afternoon, Fleur Delacour and Bill Weasley were officially husband and wife, a fact that they were currently celebrating along with their guests inside the large white wedding marquee that stood in the Burrow's garden. If it weren't for the many Order members walking around with their wands at hand's reach, he could almost believe it was a perfectly regular wedding day…
But, despite the celebrating mood all around and his deep wish to find where Ginny had gotten herself into after the binding ceremony, Harry knew that he had more important things to do like, for instance, finding Amelia Bones. He'd spotted her a few times at the ceremony but that had definitely not been the time to just go to her and ask what Dumbledore had left him in his will, after all. Actually, not just what he'd left for him – for Ron and Hermione too, apparently…
Just as he'd received a notice about the will from Bones, his friends had gotten one too, to his and their own surprises… Why, though, was a mystery to all of them. Dumbledore had been fond of all three, of course, but he'd never really been as close to Ron and Hermione as he'd been to Harry, so what on Earth could he have found fitting to will them after his death?
It wasn't that Harry was jealous or anything, not at all, but, as thankful as he was to Dumbledore for all the help and guidance he'd provided over the years, lately he was getting more and more annoyed with his late headmaster's secrecy. Sometimes he even wondered if he knew the man at all – it wasn't until he'd read some eulogy made by an old friend of Dumbledore and an excerpt of Rita Skeeter's sordid take on his biography a few weeks before that Harry had found out about his late headmaster's broken family, his short tumble with world domination thoughts and his friendship with Grinderwald.
"Everyone has things they don't like to share," his godmother had told him when he'd referred that matter to her, shortly after finding out. "If it was vital for you to know, I'm sure he's have told you."
It still bummed him that while Dumbledore had known virtually everything about his life, there had been so little he'd known about his but he liked to believe Mia had been right about what she'd said – if it was so important to him, Dumbledore would have surely told him, right? Maybe that was what the will was all about – telling him and his always faithful partners in adventure exactly what they needed to know for the quest he'd left. And, Merlin, was Harry rooting for that whole map of the Horcruxs thing…
He was leaving for the Horcrux hunt later that day and still had no bloody clue of where to start looking… well, aside from knowing one of the Horcruxes was in Mundungus Fletcher's possession, which was the same as nothing as he hadn't the palest idea of where the little thief was hiding. How was it possible that he'd spent the whole summer getting ready for his mission and still be about as prepared now as he'd been in the beginning of it?
His thoughts vanished just as he spotted Ron making his way through the celebrating crowd, looking around like he was trying to find something or someone. His friend passed right by his side, mumbling something about 'where that git had gotten himself into'. Something in his tone told Harry he was the git in question and Ton must've forgotten what his 'disguise' looked like so, to get his best mate's attention, Harry cleared his throat.
Ron turned around when he heard the sound and his face soon became covered with recognition. "Oh, there you are. I've been looking for you for ages but… somehow I recalled you being shorter."
"Oh, did you?" Harry asked dryly, narrowing his eyes as looked up at Ron. Very much up.
Fred and George were brilliant bastards – he had to give him them that. Sure, Ginny had insisted on censoring their choices of potential polyjuice disguises but they'd still made sure they'd get their laugh in the end. How, one might ask? By cleverly taking the picture of the bloke Ginny had approved of in a way that wouldn't show said bloke, despite being around the same age as Harry and very much average-looking, was about as tall as a twelve-year-old…
Short to the point of Mia having to make last-minute changes on his dress-robes, he felt like a woodland creature standing next to Ron, who towered over him about two heads' worth. It was ridiculous.
"Hey, it wasn't me who picked the bloke you'd turn into. Just be thankful Fred and George didn't trick Ginny with someone with a tail," Ron pointed out. "I reckon that would be uncomfortable," he mumbled, his tone indicating he was fighting hard not to laugh.
Harry narrowed his eyes at his friend but didn't mutter any sort of scolding, knowing he'd do the same if he was in Ron's shoes. "Anyway, you were looking for me because…"
"Oh, right. It's Bones. She's waiting for you inside the house – Hermione's over there with her for… you know," Ron informed him before whispering the rest. "The will."
Harry nodded. "Did she say anything about what Dumbledore…?"
Ron shook his head. "Nothing."
Unwilling to keep the minister waiting (and to wait himself for much longer), the two friends made their way together to the house, mostly being ignored by the many guests they ran into on the way.
It felt strangely good, not being recognized, Harry thought. That was certainly a new one. If he walked around in Harry Potter's shoes, he would have certainly been stopped at least half a dozen times on his way to the house and stared at like he was the main attraction in a freak show. Barry Weasley, though, was just one of the many Weasleys walking around that day – no one would look at him twice. Despite the height situation, he had to admit part of him wished he could walk around in someone else's shoes all time – people simply didn't value anonymity enough.
Nodding absently at something Ron was telling him about some aunt Muriel, Harry stepped into the house and made his way into the drawing room, where Hermione sat, awkwardly silent as the Minister of Magic sipped some tea on a sofa opposite his friend's.
The woman raised her head when she heard them stepping in, and raised an eyebrow at Harry's disguise, although she was kind enough not to mention his stature when she spoke. "Mr Potter, I take it," she said.
"Er… yes, Minister," he replied, awkwardly.
The woman put her tea down on the coffee table and stood up, approaching Harry. "It's good to see you again. Although I must admit, in this case, 'you' is a relative term," she commented.
Harry felt himself blush. "It was Ma… er, Alastor Moody's plan," he informed her.
Bones nodded. "Yes, he let me know about it," she said. "Alastor is always on the careful side. I hope you won't take it badly if I ask for some confirmation of your identity, though. One can hardly be too cautious these days."
Harry shook his head. "Of course."
"Please remind me of your audience concerning your underage use of magic to fight off Dementors that came after you in the centre of London a couple of years ago."
"Oh, that," he said, surprised Bones would remember it with such detail. "Er… well, I was supposed to have been tried by the Wizengamot but Dumbledore… well, I suppose you could say tricked Fud… er, Minister Fudge into instead having a personal hearing in his office. It was just me, you, Fu… Minister Fudge, Dumbledore and my godparents in there. Fud… er, Minister…"
Bones let out a small laugh at his hesitation. "Mr Potter, please feel free to call my predecessor by whatever name you'd like. I'll admit between the four of us that he doesn't get much love from my part," Bones stated.
Harry pressed his lips together to keep himself from laughing at that. "Right. So, Fudge was very keen to take my wand away and he wouldn't listen to anything I said – you did, though, Minister, and convinced him to let it pass it as a first strike. Is that enough?" he asked.
Bones nodded, sitting down. "Quite enough," she declared as Ron and Harry moved to sit on either side of Hermione. "Now, I imagine that, before we discuss anything, you'll want to know what Dumbledore has left you in his will."
All three gave the older woman a nod and she reached for a small purse resting on the arm of her chair, removing a roll of parchment that seemed to be far too long to fit into it – clearly, she must've placed an expandable charm in it. Spreading the parchment open, Bones started to read Dumbledore's last will and testament.
Ron was the first to get his item – a deluminator. Apparently, it was a unique object of Dumbledore's own design, meant to suck all lights from a room and give them back with a single click. Why he'd left it for Ron, though, none could tell.
Hermione was the second, receiving Dumbledore's copy of 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'. Why would Dumbledore have left Hermione a children's book, of all books he'd owned? Sure, his friend had already snatched those most closely related to Horcruxes shortly after the Headmaster's death but there ought to be something more useful to give her than a book about Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump, among many other stories his godmother had read to him and Izzy when they were little.
Then it hit him – could Dumbledore have hidden some sort of code in there? He turned to his bookish friend to see if her expression revealed she'd hit the same conclusion but that didn't seem to be the case as her eyes were welled with tears while Ron, red from head to toe, awkwardly extended his arms to cover her shoulder in a comforting fashion. Watching that, Harry realized that he hadn't quite grasp how much it had touched his friends that Dumbledore had remembered them on his will…
"And now, Mr. Potter, it's your turn," Bones declared, clearing her throat. Just before she started reading, Harry felt his stomach flutter with anticipation. Please be a guide to the Horcruxes, he begged. "To Harry James Potter, I leave the Snitch he caught in his first Quidditch match at Hogwarts, as a reminder of the rewards of perseverance and skill."
Harry felt his face (or rather the face of the bloke he was impersonating) fall a little at that. A snitch? He thought. He left me a snitch? It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the gesture but it just felt very anticlimactic…
"There you go, Mr. Potter," Bones said, handing him the leather box that he knew to contain the first snitch he's ever caught at an official game.
Harry accepted it and opened the box, letting the snitch extend its wings. Before it could fly away, though, Harry closed the box back, trapping it inside.
"I'm afraid I was unable to give you everything Dumbledore willed to you, Mr Potter," Bones confessed.
Surprised, Harry turned to the minister in a quick movement. "You mean he left me something else?"
Bones nodded. "The sword of Godric Griffindor."
"The sword…" Hermione started. "But where is it, then? It belongs to Harry. It came to him in the Chamber of Secrets when he needed it the most!"
"Yes, I am aware of it. But it was sent back to Hogwarts already, I believe," she said. "I'm very sorry, Mr Potter. The Wizengamot alleged the sword belonged to Hogwarts, not to Dumbledore. Although Minerva McGonagall insisted it was to be given to you if that was Dumbledore's will, the school board wouldn't have it."
"Why not?" Ron asked. "What business has the Wizengamot managing wills, anyway? I thought it was a minor job in the Department of Law Enforcement."
"It is, Mr Weasley," Bones confirmed. "Often left to interns, in fact. But the Wizengamot is the highest power in the department – it can take an interest in any of its tasks and it appears they have done so in this one. Even before I was aware that Dumbledore had left a will, I had a motion on my desk invoking a series of outdated laws – laws I even thought were revoked – to confiscate the possessions willed by him and barring me from letting Mr Potter know about it before your seventeeth birthday." She turned to look straight at Harry, then. "If I may be blunt, it's clear what we have here – the Wizengamot is corrupted. Most of the ministry is. I've been sure of this for months – that is the main reason why I decided to join the Order. I'm the minister of magic and I can't trust my own ministry."
Although none of them was particularly surprised by that, Ron gulped audibly and Hermione tensed by Harry's side. Hearing it from the minister herself a whole other thing…
"When you say it's corrupted," Harry started. "Just how corrupted do you mean?"
"As corrupted a ministry can possibly be without collapsing which," Bones replied. "You-Know-Who has, no doubt, ears in every department. And the problem isn't just those who are willingly faithful to him. Every day, we make sweeps for imperiused workers and find a number of people infected by the curse. Lately, not so many have been reported, which makes me suspect even some of the sweepers may be imperiused not to reveal who else is. It's epidemic, Mr Potter. And only a matter of time before the ministry itself becomes he-who-must-not-be-named's most useful puppet."
It was much worse than Harry had imagined and, if he had any doubt about leaving that day to start his quest for the Horcruxes, it vanished immediately, no matter how ready he felt.
Bones sighed on her seat. "I must apologize once again for not being able to give you everything Dumbledore willed," she told Harry before standing up. "Well, I won't keep you longer, Mr Potter. I imagine you'll want to enjoy the rest of the wedding…"
"Wait!" Harry said, a bit sharply. "I'm sorry, I meant…" he muttered, embarrassedly. "You're not going to ask us why Dumbledore left us these things?" Harry asked, surprised.
The minister shook her head. "The wizengamot has certainly encouraged me to do so," the older woman confessed. "However, I'm aware that it is actually neither my business nor theirs. And, judging by your looks of surprise when you got each of those items and by what I knew of Albus, you are as puzzled by your inheritance as I am."
She was right, Harry thought. Completely right.
"Oh," Bones said, hesitating just as she was about to step out of the room. "And good luck, Mr. Potter. All three of you, really," she told them, like she just knew exactly what they were going to do right after the wedding.
Just as the minister stepped out of the room, Hermione sighed, like she was relieved. "Finally a politician that doesn't run away from the truth like the devil from a church," she said.
The three of them spent several more minutes in the room, discussing between themselves what their inheritances might mean. They ended the discussion knowing little more than they did before starting it. I open at the close. The cryptic message the snitch hid, revealed after Hermione had pointed out snitches always remembered their first touch, which had led Harry to kiss it since he's nearly swallowed it in his first game, seemed to be the only new thing that the inheritance had provided… The problem was, that was yet another thing they didn't know what meant.
To avoid raising suspicions about them forming a trio, while Ron and Hermione immediately returned to the wedding marquee to rejoin the celebration, Harry stayed behind at the Burrow a little longer, following them a few minutes later. However, before he could step back into the large tent as well, something made him stop. Or rather someone.
"Cousin Barry, lovely to see you," his girlfriend's familiar voice asked him as she made her way to stand by his side. A vision draped in that golden dress of hers, he though for the umpteenth time that day, ignoring how pitifully lame that must sound. He felt tempted to just walk up to her and kiss her but then remembered he was supposed to be one of her cousins, which would make the kissing part very gruesome for any onlooker… not to mention that, for some reason, imagining Ginny kissing him with some other bloke's face on made him kind of jealous. "How's cousin Mildred?" she jokingly asked I hope she's recovering well from her bout of Dragon Pox…"
He raised an eyebrow at her. "No one's listening, you know? There's no need to pretend I'm this Barry bloke."
She pretended to be confused. "Pretend? I'm just concerned over cousin Mildred's well-being… You sound a bit delirious, cousin Barry. Maybe you caught the pox from her too…" She reached for him with her hand, trying to feel his forehead.
He gave her an exasperated look. "There really is no doubt you and the twins are all flour from the same sac…"
Ginny groaned at that comment. "Oh, do not connect me to those two in any way," she said, an annoyed look on her face as she eyed her boyfriend's disguised form from head to toe. She shook her head, then, and huffed. "I can't believe I let them trick me! I should have guessed it was a trap when they gave me a handful of headshots of blokes looking like they belonged in a zoo and only a couple with decent ones. Merlin, you're shorter than me!"
"I am aware of that," Harry mumbled through his teeth, looking away in frustration as they started to stroll together by the marquee.
"I was sure they would try to mess with me somehow for making them let me pick your disguise but I thought they'd just use hair from the bloke that looked just like a hog in the potion," she pointed out.
Harry looked at her in disbelief. "Because that would have been so much better than being short," he replied sarcastically.
"No, that would have been cheap, obvious pranking," she informed him casually. "This is carefully-plotted pranking. You've got to respect them for that. Damn them."
He looked at his girlfriend, confused. "So, let me get this straight, you respect them for making me a short bloke."
"No, I respect them for being bloody pranking geniuses," she corrected him. "You being on the wrong end of that prank is a completely different matter, which, obviously, will require payback at some point."
"So I take it that what they said about your insistence to choose my disguise actually being a hint for what you wanted me to look like was bogus," he guessed.
Ginny rolled her eyes. "What gave that away? Me dating you instead of the ten-year-old-sized redheaded bloke whose hair Fred and George used to brew your potion? The twins are always trying to mess with everyone – I love you for you being you. You know that."
Harry grinned. It occurred to him that he was going to miss that during his quest: the banter, the friendship, the romance… but, most of all, he was going to miss Ginny. He wouldn't even allow himself to wonder what he'd do with himself if the Horcrux hunt turned out to last for years… He wasn't even sure if he preferred a scenario where she'd keep her word and join him just as soon as she turned seventeen, therefore insanely risking her life every day she spent with him, or another (very unlikely) scenario where she'd change her mind, leading them to spend years apart.
He shook his head and looked at her to see she'd gotten distracted as well, looking away thoughtfully. He wondered if she was thinking the same as him – about him leaving later that day. She hadn't said a word about it yet – part of him had wondered if she'd have last-minute jitters that day that would end her always-supportive attitude towards his mission and beg him to stay. He deeply wished she wouldn't – it would make it insanely harder for him to leave.
Just as Ginny was about to say something after spotting him observing her, they suddenly heard voices approaching from one of the marquee's entrances. At that, she immediately cleared her throat and turned to him. "So, cousin Barn… I mean, Barry. You still haven't told me how aunt Mildred is actually doing… with the Dragon Pox."
Her raised his eyebrows at her but his girlfriend gave him a look that clearly said 'just go along with it', nodding at the direction from where the voices were coming. "Er… she's still very itchy," he replied, not sounding natural at all as he spoke.
Ginny widened eyes, urging him to do a better job. "All green and scaled too, isn't it?"
"Green and what now?"
Before Ginny could respond, a group of blonde girls that Harry recognized as Fleur's part-Veela cousins exited the marquee, giggling and talking among themselves in quick melodic French. When the girls saw them standing there, they stopped walking and only one spoke. "Zee toilettes?"
"What?" Ginny asked. "Oh, the loo? In the house. Third door on the left."
"Zank you," the blonde girl pleasantly replied, shooting Harry an intense look.
Dumbly, he followed the girl with his eyes, gulping heavily before Ginny punched him on the arm. "Oi!" she warned.
"Ouch! Sorry, it's their charms… I was fighting them off, I swear," he told her, embarrassed.
She raised an eyebrow and left him hanging for a few seconds before saying anything. "Alright. I suppose I'll let this one slide," she replied. "But don't go falling for some Veela when I'm not around to punch some sense in to you. In fact, remind me to ask Hermione to do it for me when you're off on your hunt, just in case."
He looked down, tense at her mention of him leaving. There it was – she'd acknowledged it.
Ginny sighed. "I've just burst the bubble, didn't I?" she asked.
"The what?"
"The bubble. You know, the one I've created today to unrealistically protect us from reality and the need to acknowledge the fact that you're leaving for a…" she pause, clearing her throat as she looked around to see if anyone was listening"… madly dangerous mission today. You didn't think I'd forgotten, did you, Har… Barry?"
"Would it be very bad if I said part of me was hoping you would?"
She huffed and crossed her arms. "I hope not. Because part of me really wished the same," she mumbled before noticing her words had gotten an odd look on Harry's face. "Oh, don't even start, Pot… I mean, Weasley," she corrected herself, frowning at how odd the name sounded on him. "I'm not saying I didn't want to know. I'm just saying that I wish I'd forgotten you were leaving at least for a little while so it wouldn't ruin this day for us too. Wouldn't want you to waste the extra day you stayed for me too…"
Harry raised his eyebrows. "That's not very fair to you, is it?" he asked, confusing her. "I mean, according to you, staying this extra day was my early birthday gift to you? Shouldn't I be the one worrying about making it great?"
Ginny shrugged. "Planning was never one of your strengths," she offered. "Either you're more or less than five feet tall," she tried to joke
He narrowed his eyes. "You just had to mention it again, didn't you?"
"It's too easy," she replied.
"Don't you think I know? In the first fifteen minutes I spent in this… form, Sirius cracked enough short-person jokes and puns to fill in a book. I'm pretty sure he even made up a few… he was on a roll. At this point, it's just beating a dead hippogriff."
Knowing Ginny, he was expecting yet another joke in response. Nevertheless, it never came as she appeared to be staring at something on his face. "What?" he asked, rubbing the back of his hand against his own face, expecting there to be a smudge. "Do I have something on my face? What is it?"
"Your eyes. They're changing back. They're not blue anymore – they're green," she pointed out.
"What?" he asked, alarmed before checking the watch his godparents had given him for his birthday. "Blimey, I was supposed to have taken another dose of polyjuice potion ten minutes ago." He started reaching for the hip flask containing the polyjuice but was stopped by his girlfriend, who grabbed him by the wrist.
"Oh, no you're not. Follow me," Ginny told him, turning on her heel and dragging him behind her as she walked away.
"Ginny, I have to take it or else the disguise will be ruined," Harry protested. It was frustrating how, given his size and his current position, he felt like a naughty kid being dragged to a time out by a parent. "Where are you taking me?"
"To somewhere where your disguise won't be ruined," she replied as she made her way farther and farther away from the wedding marquee.
It was only several seconds later that he realized where she was headed. Her father's shed. It was empty when they got there, which was a relief because, by the time he entered it, Harry's dreadful eyesight was back, which led him to believe the polyjuice must've completely worn off by then. After fetching his glasses from his pocket, his reflection on the dead screen of a broken Muggle telly Mr Weasley had lying around confirmed he was right: his face was back to its usual features and (thank Merlin!) he could once again tower over his girlfriend.
"I bet right now you don't take having to literally look down at me for granted," Ginny pointed out, smiling.
Although he wouldn't say it out loud, it indeed was a huge relief not feeling like a dwarf compared to her. "I take it you didn't drag me all the way here just so I could do that."
She shook her head. "I dragged you all the way here because, as much as I'm all for inner beauty and stuff, just spending time with you while you don't look like yourself and are impersonating some fake cousin of mine is not the way I want to send you off," she explained. "And, more importantly, I was hoping we could snog."
"Were you?" he asked, dryly.
"It's my birthday," she pointed out.
"No, it isn't. Not for another… ten days," Harry informed her.
"It's my early birthday present, then," she corrected herself. "Are you honestly trying to argue on why I should snog you today, Harry?"
He just grinned wordlessly in return and leaned back against the shed's door.
Before she could take a step towards him, for some reason, the smile he gave her then made something click within Ginny. Made her realize how much it would hurt knowing he was out somewhere, risking his life every day, while she stayed behind, wondering if he was alright. From that moment on, she just wanted to drop that brave mask that she'd been using for the past few weeks. She wanted to cry and to beg for him to stay. She wanted to be that selfish sort of girlfriend that would guilt Harry into changing his mind. She wanted to be weak for a moment.
Still, she didn't. It took every bit of strength she had but she knew she'd hate herself if she gave in.
Instead, she silently took a few steps forward and wrapped her arms around Harry so hard that part of her wondered if she wasn't choking the life out of him. But he didn't complain. He just hugged her back.
It was then, he thought. She'd ask him the dreaded request and Merlin helped him if now he wasn't unsure if he'd be able to refuse.
She kept holding him close but refused to cry. She couldn't let him see her crying – it wouldn't be fair to him. Instead she just closed her eyes very hard and swallowed every strangled sound that wanted to come out. She didn't dare to speak until she was sure her voice would come out relatively normal. "Don't you dare die on that hunt of yours," she told him. "Don't you dare, Potter."
"I'll try very hard not to," he promised. "I really will."
"Good," she mumbled in return.
Harry only held her closer, letting his nostrils fill with her flowery scent of her hair. "I'm sorry, Gin," he mumbled.
"Shut up," she replied, not wanting to hear him blaming himself one more time.
He ignored her, though. "I'm so sorry I have to put you through all…" He wasn't able to finish that sentence as Ginny's lips crashed into his own, making it impossible for him to speak. Later, Harry would have to admit that he hadn't really bothered to fight her back as the feeling of her kissing him was just too perfect for him to care about apologies.
"I'd told you to shut up," Ginny later said very slowly when their lips came apart. "You apologizing for something you didn't even sign up for makes it sound like a goodbye. And this is not a 'goodbye'."
"Not a goodbye," he repeated, part of him fearing the fact that it might just be.
"I mean it, Harry," she said, poking him on the chest, determined. "You have to come back so we get to be a normal couple for once, grow boring and completely sick of each other before any of us had to attend the other's funeral. So sick, in fact, that one of us will probably be the one who kills the other in the end."
Harry had to laugh. "Well, that is something to look forward to."
"One of many things," she assured him before grabbing him by the lapels of his robes and pulling him into another kiss. One unlike any other she'd given him before. It was like she was daring him to try and live without that just so she could prove that he wouldn't be able to, Harry thought.
And, somehow, despite the circumstances, it felt like the farthest goodbye. They were going to make it – they had to.
A/N: I hope you liked this half. The rest will be in the next one, reception included, mostly from Sirius and Mia's eyes. Posting it won't take as long as this one as it's almost finished... I only need to add a few scenes that came to me at the last minute and edit the whole thing. Feedback is welcome! Review!