Disclaimer: Seeing as how I am writing this from an average, middle-class home, I am obviously not the author of Harry Potter.

A WONDERFUL WEDDING

When Harry woke up, he realized that he was in a bed, and for one blissful moment he couldn't remember how he got there. Quickly enough, though, everything came rushing back to him. Harry shut his eyes to try to block everything out, but he wasn't quick enough. Mrs. Weasley burst into the room, and seeing Harry awake, began to make a fuss.

"Harry, you stay right there and I'll go fix you breakfast." she declared as she bustled out of the room.

Harry, who was still feeling limp from shock, did not protest, but slumped back down into bed.

By noon that day, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Fred and George were all back to normal and seemed none the worse for their loss of brain cells. None of them mentioned Hermione, and Harry was unsure of what would happen when she arrived.

Several guests were already at the burrow, including Tonks, Kingsley Shaklebolt, Professor McGonagall and Neville, who had brought his grandmother along. Lupin was waiting out the full moon, and scheduled to arrive sometime over the weekend. Hermione, of course, was supposed to be there on Tuesday, the day before the wedding. No one knew when Mundungus would turn up.

Harry spent a few blissful days without any worries, until he realized that, sometime between Dumbledore's funeral and now, something had attempted to eat his dress robes and had largely succeeded. What was left of them now was unrecognizable. They were too shabby even to be dish towels. Looking at the calendar, however, Harry relaxed. It was only Saturday; he had three entire days to get down to Diagon Alley for new ones.

The next day, Harry decided that he may as well get his shopping trip over with. After lunch, he kindled a fire in the fireplace and reached into the dusty flowerpot on the mantle. Harry drew out a handful of Floo powder and got ready to leave. He knew what to do. He tossed the powder into the fire and said "Diagon Alley", just as they always did. But when he stepped into the fire, something went horribly wrong.

Instead of spinning in to proper grate, he stayed right where he was, in the fire. Harry smelled something burning, and peered through the smoke to look down at his robes. He was on fire!

By now the flames were starting to engulf the bottom of his robes, and his skin had begun to sting in places. With a yelp, he tumbled backwards out of the fireplace and into the living room, rolling around and searching for his wand. Mrs Weasley heard the commotion as he tried desperately to put himself out, and she ran into the room with a scream. Fire lacquer shot out the end of her wand, thoroughly dousing Harry, the fireplace and most everything that was in the room. Harry swam gratefully over to Mrs. Weasley, who insisted on treating his burns before cleaning up the living room.

Harry was, yet again, confused. Why hadn't he been transported to Diagon Ally? Maybe Floo Powder didn't work after you learned to Apparate (which, due to new enchantments on and around the burrow, he couldn't do). But no, that couldn't be it, Mr. And Mrs. Weasley could do both.

He was still pondering this problem when Ron shouted for him to come to the TV. The moment he looked at the screen, he knew.

The TV. was tuned to a news broadcast, and Harry could see a hassled news reporter standing in a barren field of ash and rubble. He began to speak.

"Today, hundreds of witches and wizards were burned in their fireplace while attempting to reach Diagon Alley. Hundreds more Apparated, only to become confused when they arrived at their destination. But what you see behind you really is Diagon Alley. Earlier this morning an unidentified terrorist bombed the area from a Muggle aeroplane. Rescue workers are currently picking through the rubble, desperately searching for survivors. It may take months, even years to restore this once-thriving area. Even then, we can never replace the history we have lost. This is a grim moment in wizarding history indeed."

With that, the reporter signed off and the camera proceeded to pan across the area. All that remained of the beautiful street and shops were blackened wood fragments, melted blobs of glass and thick, dark ash. The only building that had managed to remain standing was Gringotts Bank, and even that was a mess with it's elegant marble cracked and smashed.

Looking at the ruins of where he and his friends had spent time and enjoyed themselves, Harry felt a wall of emotions overpowering him. He was sad, to see a place he thought he could depend on destroyed, and anger at whoever had done such a terrible deed. These mixed feelings left Harry with a bad taste in his mouth, so he decided to go find something to eat that would fix that.

As he was rummaging through the Weasley's pantry, he came across some strange metal cylinders. The sides were marked with the word "Cola". On top, Harry could see a small tab. Since almost everything in the Weasley's house was magical, Harry assumed that these would be too. Indeed, Harry, having been raised in a health-obsessed family, had never seen anything like these before. Since he couldn't figure out how to manually open it, he gingerly tapped it with his wand.

The can instantly exploded. A strange brown liquid flew everywhere, and gave him a strange fizzing sensation where it touched his skin. Harry panicked thinking that it was some sort of acid or magical substance and that he was going to die. Three minutes later he was still not dead, but since Harry was already rampantly morbid and depressed at this point and figured that he would die at any time. He stopped screaming, concluded that he was having a terrible day and did what seemed logical to him. Raising his wand to his head, he was unconscious before he heard himself say "stupefy".

Harry woke to find a shabby-looking Lupin sitting beside his bed. Harry sat up slowly, blinking and looked around for his glasses. Meanwhile, Lupin began unwrapping a large amount of chocolate, and as Harry was force-fed piece upon piece of the candy, Lupin filled Harry in on everything he had missed while he was unconscious.

Harry soon learned that he had been out cold for several days since his attempted suicide. Mrs. Weasley had heard the explosion and found him lying on the floor. The spell he had hit himself with was too strong for her to lift, so he had been carried off to bed to recover. It was now Monday, and there was only one day until the wedding.

Lupin left to fetch yet more chocolate and Harry sat in bed, feeling the chocolate hardening his arteries and trying to recall everything that had happened the previous Saturday. Dress robes….fire…..bombing….acid. Bill and Fleur's wedding was tomorrow, his dress robes were a wreck and he had no idea where Hermione was.

As though on cue, Hermione had appeared in the doorway. Harry heard a scream and then his vision was obscured by a large quantity of very bushy blue hair.

"Harry, I've missed you so much!" she exclaimed.

"When did you get here?" replied Harry.

Hermione drew back and checked her watch, "Five seconds ago."

"How…" Harry began, but he was cut off.

"Trust me, you don't want to know," Hermione assured him ,"Have you seen Ron anywhere?"

"I've only been conscious for 10 minutes, how should I…" Harry started to reply, but was again interrupted.

"Okay, bye." said Hermione, dashing from the room. Harry was let alone once again with his own thoughts. He thought about ribbons. He thought about tags. He though about packages, boxes and bags. He thought about not quoting other stories at random anymore.

Harry simply lay in his bed, trying to digest all of what had just happened. Finally, mustering up all his strength, he rose from the bed and went to prepare for the wedding.

A/N. There's my thrd chapter. I am aware that the real conclusion to the series has since come out, and that my story contradicts that one. This is fan fiction. Besides, this particular fan fictionhas been written for a long time. I am simply too lazt to actually type it.

Reviews would be fantastic.