Chapter 4 : The Chaos Theory
As if to match the tensions running in the Weasley household on the morning of George's wedding, the weather was utterly miserable, with a dense mist hanging in the air and the trees dripping from a night of intense rain.
"Oh, no," Harry muttered to Ginny as he awoke, rubbing his eyes before pulling on his glasses to see the gloominess through the window. "Molly is not going to be happy."
As if on cue, they heard a cacophony of clattering saucepans from downstairs, as though they had been hurled against a door.
"I'd better go and see who got killed," Ginny said. She hurled the covers from her body and sprinted downstairs. "I'll be back." When she reached the table, she sat next to Hermione, who was calmly devouring a stack of pancakes she'd somehow managed to cook in the morning's madness. "What's going on?"
"I don't think I have enough fingers," said Hermione, spearing another chunk of pancake onto her fork. "George is getting the flu, the tables and chairs are refusing to be charmed, the frost has killed your mother's flowers, she ruined four cauldrons of food because Victoire ran through the kitchen zapping things with Bill's wand, Victoire's now screaming and won't shut up, Fleur's on the verge of a nervous breakdown, your Dad blew up the back shed trying to tinker with the present he bought for George, and Astaria has vanished."
"What do you mean, vanished?" said Ginny, astounded. "She was at home last night. Mum rang Tobias to see how she was."
Hermione shrugged. "Well, she's gone now. George is acting like it doesn't matter but I think he's working himself into a flu over the stress of it. And speaking of stress, your mum's magic is malfunctioning because of it all."
Ginny leaned back in her chair and hit her head on the rail. "Not to mention the you and Ron thing." She sighed. "I feel like the only normal one in this family."
At that moment, Mrs Weasley burst through the kitchen door with another cauldron of food. "Oh, Ginny dear," she said. "I need you to…er…" She couldn't complete the sentence, realising that there was absolutely nothing her daughter could do about the chaos. "Get Harry and Ron out of bed. I want them ready to move as soon as the world decides to get back to normal."
"To add insult to further injury," Ginny muttered so that only Hermione could hear, "my brother will be hung over this morning."
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As Ginny had predicted, when Harry went into Ron's bedroom to prise him out into the world, there was a lot of drunken resistance.
"Gerroff me," growled the voice from underneath the covers. "I'm sleeping."
"Your brother's getting married today," said Harry, "and more importantly, your mother is on the warpath, so I really really think you should get up. Right now." Harry gave the human-sized lump on the bed a sharp prod with his toe, and the next minute a furious Ron Weasley flew out with the quilt still coiled around his body.
"If Hermione's really here, and I wasn't just having a really insane, horrible nightmare," said Ron angrily, "then I am getting back into bed, and there's nothing anyone can do to stop me."
A few minutes later, with Ron considerably more dressed than he had been, they went downstairs to joint the commotion.
"Harry, love," said Mrs Weasley, "can you – er – try and throw in a bit of your magic? Ours seems to have failed us today."
"Oh, sure," said Ron, rolling his eyes and trying as hard as possible to ignore Hermione. "Use Harry's magic. Ickle Ron's is surely no good."
Mrs Weasley turned to her youngest son and prodded him with her spatula. "If ickle Ron were sober and capable of putting a pancake into his mouth in a straight line," she said, "then I might trust him with fixing our magic. Otherwise, he can be quiet and keep his wand to himself."
She turned back to Harry. "Sorry, dear," she said. "Mother's discipline calls. Anyway, could you oblige?"
Harry shrugged. "I'll try." He pulled out his wand. "What do I need to fix?"
"Er," said Mrs Weasley. "Try fixing my cooking first. The soup's terrible, the stews are overcooked and my pies are completely ruined. I've lost my touch this morning."
"Okay." Blue sparks flew out of Harry's wand. Noises, much more pleasant than those Mrs Weasley had created earlier, erupted from the kitchen. Mrs Weasley dashed into the kitchen to find her sixteen cauldrons filled with now steaming, perfectly cooked stews and soups.The table was piled high with repaired crisp apple and rhubarb pies. Mrs Weasley gave a scream of delight and it appeared that the remaining magical mishaps had almost been forgotten.
"Bill and Charlie," said Hermione. "They can't sort out the tables and chairs outside."
"Why ever not?" said Harry. "They're better at magic than me. I doubt I could –"
"Oh, stop being modest and just try, for goodness sake!" said Ginny, grabbing his wand. "Because if you don't, I will!"
"Fine, fine," said Harry, snatching the wand back. As he flicked a charm into the air, there came a yelp of pain from the back garden as two of the tables crashed into one another, before collapsing onto Charlie's outstretched leg.
"Oh, no," said Harry. "I think I just broke the best man's leg."