It was a dinner they would remember for the rest of their lives.
Beginning with the house itself, with multiple levels that began at odd angles and sometimes jutted out strangely and, quite frankly, looked as if it would topple over with the first strong wind, it wasn't their usual night out with friends.
Booth kept an eye on Brennan as she carefully took in every detail and tried insistently, he could tell, to make sense of it all, to fit everything into the neat little box of knowledge and understanding into which, in general, life usually settled.
Until finally, she gave up.
Maybe it was the mirror that grumpily ordered Booth to comb his hair before dinner.
Or the knitting needles clicking away on a footstool in the corner of the living room unaided by human hands, one long sock beginning to take shape beneath them.
It might have been the pretty little red-haired girl who surreptitiously picked up her father's wand and pointed it toward the top of the tallest shelf as she whispered "Accio Tales of Beetle the Bard," deftly catching with one hand the book that flew toward her.
Quite possibly, Booth thought, it was the absolute non-reaction of everyone else to all of the fantastic events happening around them. When Molly Weasley sent Ginny out of the room with instructions to "stick your head in the fire, dear, and find out when Bill and Fleur are coming," no one looked even slightly alarmed.
Whatever the reason, finally Brennan stopped looking for a rational explanation. Instead of trying to find real-life explanations behind the magic she saw, she began to study how magic was used as a substitute for the technology she expected to see.
It was a toss-up between who asked whom the most questions, Arthur Weasley of Brennan or Brennan of Arthur.
He explained that although cooking still required heat, fire could be created magically.
She explained microwave ovens.
He used the Patronus charm as an example of communication over great distances.
She taught him how to use her cell phone.
He described a simple potion that could regrow bones overnight.
She described open-heart surgery.
He used portkeys as an example of travel across miles and continents.
She told him about rockets and the Hubble telescope.
They could have entertained each other for hours but for Molly's insistence that dinner would wait no longer. Her not-so-gentle push to have them join the rest of the group interrupted their discussions.
In the garden outside the kitchen, chairs were arranged on either side of two long tables set end to end, providing one long flat surface bowing from the weight of the many dishes and platters that covered every available inch. Paper lanterns floated gently in the air, casting a warm glow over the family members mingling together as they waited to sit down. The number of people seemed to have grown as well, the Minister of Magic having arrived and with him Angelina, her hair now worn in glossy ringlets that skimmed down her back, and a shorter, stockier version of Ron who, incongruously, sported an obviously fake, large pink ear from which a sparkling earring dangled.
"George," Molly scolded, nodding to the ear. "Take that ridiculous thing off."
"But Mum," he answered with a cheeky grin, "We have company. This is my fancy dress ear."
"George," she said again, raising her wand threateningly.
He shrugged with good humor and touched the ear with his own wand. With a twinkle, it was replaced by an elephant's ear that flapped gently in the breeze. Lily and Hugo burst into laughter.
"George!"
He sighed dramatically and lifted his wand again and a tall, white rabbit ear attached itself to the side of his head.
"Yes! Leave that one!" Lily cried out.
"Not a rabbit," Hugo groaned. "Rabbits are boring. Let's see a goblin's ear!"
"No, I don't like goblins!" Lily complained. "They're scary!"
"That's because you're a girl," he shot back, smirking.
"Am not!" Harry caught her with an arm around the middle as she raced toward her cousin, murder in her eyes.
Ron lifted Hugo in a similar hold. "You're scared of goblins yourself, little git," Ron told him. He exchanged a laughing glance with Harry over the heads of their children, set the boy on his feet and gave him a light push toward a frowning Hermione. "I think your mother has something to say to you."
"Awww, Dad," Hugo whined, dragging his feet as he walked toward her.
Harry whispered in Lily's ear before releasing her. She tossed a triumphant look in Hugo's direction and ran to Molly's side.
"Never a dull day, right?" Harry said to a smiling Booth. "Is it like this for you?"
"Worse," Booth answered, laughing toward Brennan. "It's two against one – the boys gang up on our daughter. They don't often get the best of her, but that doesn't stop them trying."
"I pity Hugo when Lily gets a wand," Ron murmured, watching as Hermione finished her scold and ruffled their son's hair. "I've tried to warn him but he doesn't listen. Oh, well. I just hope the damage isn't permanent."
At that moment, Booth felt something around his ankles and looked down to see a small, lumpy creature poking at his socks with long bony fingers. "What the hell . . ." he yelped in surprise. Picking it up by the tuft of hair growing from the top of its head, he stared at the ugly, misshapen face as it squirmed and squealed in protest. When one sharp finger swiped too close to his face, he flung it hard from his hand. The chatter in the garden fell away into silence as everyone turned to watch the little creature sail through the night air, far over the stone wall surrounding the garden.
"Booth!" Brennan's hushed voice was shocked.
Her quiet voice was lost in the laughter and shouts that rose from the rest of the group.
"Did you see how far that gnome went?" George exclaimed.
"Are we de-gnoming, Dad? Can I try?" Hugo jumped up and down in excitement.
"I think you just broke Bill's record," Ron chortled, clapping Booth hard on the back.
"Hey, hey, what's this about my record?" The new voice had Booth and Brennan turning toward the kitchen as Bill and Fleur came out of the house. "I demand a rematch," Bill added with good humor, his scarred face smiling as he walked toward Booth, hand outstretched. Booth, however, was staring open-mouthed and slack-jawed at Fleur and ignored Bill completely. The lovely blonde glided with exquisite grace to Molly's side, long silver hair floating deliciously around her delicate features as she kissed the older woman's cheek. Appalled at Booth's rudeness as he continued to stare, Brennan loudly cleared her throat several times, to no avail. An annoyed sigh to her left drew her attention to Hermione, who rolled her eyes at Ginny. Ron, too, stared at Fleur with a wide, goofy grin. Harry was somewhat more discreet; his head turned away but his eyes slanted back toward Fleur.
"I know they can't help it," Hermione grumbled, "but you'd think after all this time they'd have more control."
Ginny grimaced. "Hit him," she advised Brennan with a nod of her head to Booth.
"I beg your pardon?"
"It's the fastest way to snap them out of it," Ginny explained. "Like this," she said, rapping Harry smartly on his temple with the back of one hand. He shook his head once and adjusted his glasses, shooting an abashed glance at Ginny as Hermione slapped the back of Ron's head.
"Ouch," he grumbled, rubbing his scalp, the grin on his face sliding off.
"Surely that's unnecessary," Brennan disagreed. "Booth," she said insistently. "Booth!" She stepped directly in front of him and raised one hand in front of his eyes, snapping her fingers. "BOOTH!" Her husband's neck stretched as he lifted on his toes to stare besottedly over her fingers. A snicker behind her settled the matter - she lifted one foot and stomped his toes.
His smothered curse and watering eyes effectively broke the spell.
Bill's chuckle was friendly and knowing when he approached Booth again and this time, got a response. "Bill Weasley," he said. "It helps if you blink a lot when you look at her," he advised Booth in an aside as Fleur joined the group and was introduced.
"Harry!" she said, kissing him on the cheek, dropping the 'H' in the French accent she'd never lost. Minutes later, Ron received the same treatment while Hermione and Ginny were enveloped in a cloud of silky hair when she embraced them enthusiastically. "And these are the Muggles, yes? So tall, these Americans," she purred, clasping Booth's shoulders and going on tiptoe to press a kiss on both cheeks.
"Blink, Booth," Brennan said waspishly with a sharp elbow to his ribs.
"And you are the doctor, yes?" A cloud of sensual perfume surrounded the women when Fleur leaned in to press her cheek against Brennan's. "Fantastique! Bill and I have just returned today from visiting my parents in France and oh, the owls waiting for us! So helpful you are! Très bien!"
Arthur chose that moment to clap his hands together, calling for attention. "Let's find our seats, everyone, and not let Molly's excellent dinner get any colder!" There was a genial disorder until all the chairs were filled and Arthur, still standing at the head of the table spoke again.
"We had hoped to be able to celebrate tonight the raising of the new monument in Hogsmeade and while certain events caused a change in those plans," he said, glancing at Lily and Hugo, "we are excited nonetheless that today had the happy result of introducing us to our new friends from America. Welcome to the Burrow!" Sounds of agreement and "hear hear" echoed down the table as Arthur lifted his glass in the direction of Brennan and Booth, who nodded and smiled in return.
"As we do every year on this day," he continued, his voice dropping into a serious, quiet tone, "let us take a moment and remember those we lost during those dark days, now twenty years ago." He blinked back the sheen of moisture suddenly visible in his eyes and lifted his glass again. "Fred," he said, his voice thick with sorrow."
"Mad-Eye," Bill added, lifting his glass.
"Professor Lupin," Hermione's quiet voice spoke.
"Tonks," Ginny smiled softly.
"Dumbledore," said Ron.
"Snape." Harry's glass joined the others high above the table.
"May their memories, and those of everyone lost, live on. We shall never forget," Kingsley intoned solemnly.
Glasses were lifted higher and a beat of silence passed before Arthur cleared his throat. "Now, as our American guests might say, 'dig in!'"
With much laughter and chatter and the clinking of plates and bowls and silverware, they did. Booth and Brennan caught snippets of the conversations around them and did their best to keep up.
"So, Georgie, where's the fancy dress ear?" Bill asked, passing his brother a bowl of roast potatoes.
"Mum." George pointed to the other end of the table where Molly sat with Hugo and Lily on either side of her.
"Told you to keep the earring simple," Bill joked, tapping the dragon's fang he still wore.
"But I want butterbeer!" Hugo complained.
"You'll have pumpkin juice," Hermione insisted, shaking her head and giving Molly a severe look.
Fleur tossed her head airily at a question from Ginny, "He has proposed again," she said, "but Victorie insists she will not marry him yet. Bah!" she snorted. "I have told Teddy they are both too young for marriage. But does he listen?"
"I don't like green food, Grandmother!" Lily complained when Molly emptied a spoon of broccoli on her plate. With a twitch of her wand, the broccoli became purple and she pushed her granddaughter's plate closer. Across from her, Hugo smirked at his cousin's disgruntled expression, popping a piece from his own plate into his mouth when she eyed him angrily.
" . . . in hiding," Kingsley was saying to Arthur. "He sold fake Wolfsbane Potion to a bunch of werewolves and they're not very happy with him."
Brennan, sitting beside Hermione, raised an eyebrow. "Did he say werewolves?"
"Yes," she nodded. "We've made great strides incorporating those who want to rejoin society but stunts like this put us right back where we started." She looked seriously at Kingsley. "When Dung is found, Minister, I'm going to recommend to the Wizengamot he receive six months in Azkaban. This was more than just his usual petty thievery. If one of the werewolves hadn't had the foresight to test the potion first, Mundungus' trick could have had serious consequences. It's past time he learned a lesson."
Ron, sitting on the other side of Booth, leaned forward. "Almost makes you wish the Dementors were still there, eh?"
"So, Dr. Brennan," Molly interrupted, "tell us more about your family. Ron tells us you have four children?"
Booth and Brennan exchanged a smile. "Yes, we do. Parker is Booth's son from a previous relationship. He's starting college in the fall so he'll escape the madness," she chuckled. "Our daughter, Moira, is six and the boys, Simon and Henry, are four."
"Ah, twins," Arthur chuckled softly himself. "They drive you to distraction, don't they? There were times I wondered if Fred and George would live to be adults!"
"At least your daughter is the eldest," Ginny said. "Try being the only girl, and the youngest of seven." She shuddered.
Brennan's gaze traveled quickly over the assembled group, counting red heads. Molly noticed her gaze and smiled. "Charlie and Percy, our other sons, are out of the country. Charlie, our second oldest, is in charge of the dragon breeding program and lives in Romania. He'll be here in a few weeks when school ends at Hogwarts. His oldest is in her third year there."
"Dr...dragons?" Booth stammered.
"Yes, dear. They're attempting to cross-breed a less aggressive breed. Absolute waste of time, if you ask me," Molly huffed. "Nature will out, I always say."
Ginny interrupted before Molly could continue on what was a well-worn spiel. "Percy is the other missing brother," she explained. "His wife, Penelope, is on a teaching exchange with Durmstrang, a school in Bulgaria," she added, "and their family moved up there for a year." Her smile at Brennan and Booth was genuine. "They will both be sorry to have missed meeting you."
The math was done quickly in Brennan's head and her voice was quiet when she spoke next. "And the sixth brother, that would be Fred, the one you mentioned before dinner?" she asked, looking at Arthur. Angelina reached for George's hand where it lay on top of the table and gave it a hard squeeze.
"Fred was my twin," George answered. The tip of the rabbit's ear drooped sadly. "He was killed in the Battle of Hogwarts."
A pall hung over the table as silence fell. "I'm sorry for your loss," Brennan said sincerely. Having studied her sons' relationship and attachment to each other, she was truly saddened to hear of the demise of one of the twins. "I realize this may not be appropriate dinner conversation but I'm not familiar with that battle and it's been mentioned several times today. I'd like to find out more, when there's time."
Arthur pushed his chair back from the table with a heavy sigh. "Ah, my dear, when is it ever a good time to discuss death and destruction?" There were nods of agreement around the table; Ginny stretched an arm behind Harry and stroked his shoulders gently. "Good heavens, it all started so long ago now . . ."
Concisely, with the help of Kingsley and additional commentary from Ron and Hermione, Arthur told the story of a power-hungry madman named Tom Riddle and the lengths he went to to gain control of the wizarding world, and the steps he took to cheat death and gain immortality. Harry, whose name figured prominently throughout the tale, remained quiet, Ginny's hand still moving slowly across his back.
"So you really did save the world," Booth said to the younger man when Arthur's voice faded into silence.
"I just did what had to be done," Harry shrugged. "And I couldn't have done anything without Ron and Hermione, and everyone else who stood up to him. It wasn't all me."
Ron shook his head and nudged Booth with one shoulder. "See? Crazy bloke won't even let anyone buy him a butterbeer to say thanks."
"Speaking of free," George interrupted. "I gave the Creevey boy the box of canary creams you promised him. Almost talked my other ear off about meeting Harry."
Ron and Harry gave almost identical starts. "Creevey?" Harry asked.
"That little mite, Stanley? His surname is Creevey?" Ron asked at the same time.
"Yea, didn't you know? His father, Dennis, runs the owlrey in Diagon Alley." George responded, surprised. "Manic little midget, never shuts up. I knew his life story within five minutes of him coming into the store."
Kingsley's imposing voice silenced the rest of the conversations around the table. "Hermione, if I may ask, where do we stand with the poor fellow dug up earlier tonight?"
"Of course, sir." She sat up straighter as she addressed the minister. "Dr. Brennan was good enough to jot down her direction earlier. I created a milleportus key and sent the crate, along with Dr. Brennan's note, to Ms. Quimby in Salem before coming here. She was so good as to send a note back by the same key that she would be happy to deliver the crate tomorrow morning," Hermione finished, looked well pleased with the way events had worked out.
"I'll speak to my lab tonight, when we get back to the hotel, and let them know this is . . . a delicate situation," Brennan added. "With the skull, Angela should be able to give us a face tomorrow and it's possible someone might recognize the victim. Given the time difference and the fact that we are scheduled to leave on Saturday afternoon, I'm not sure what we'll be able to tell you before we leave."
"Ah, well," Kingsley shrugged. "We are grateful for whatever time you can spare for us, Dr. Brennan. We'll cross other bridges when we come to them."
"Speaking of Saturday," George spoke up again, "is James ready for the match?"
Harry laughed. "Is he ready? His letters home have almost been howlers, he's so excited. Finally, a chance for Gryffindor to take back the House Cup!"
"Quidditch," Hermione explained when she noticed the questioning gaze exchanged between Brennan and Booth. "The last match of the year at Hogwarts is on Saturday. It will decide the House Cup."
"What is a house cup?" Brennan asked.
"What's Quidditch?" came from Booth.
Several voices rushed all at once to explain Quidditch. Seeing the confusion grow on Booth's face as he tried to listen to the jumbled descriptions, George put his fingers to his mouth and silenced everyone with a loud whistle.
"Oy!" he said when everyone turned to stare at him. "Instead of all this noise, why don't we just show him?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Molly disagreed. "It's too late to play Quidditch. It's gone completely dark!"
"No, we can play," Ron said with enthusiasm. "We'll just conjure some light and stay close to the ground so no one from the village will see. "
"We won't be able to use the snitch, either," Harry said, disappointment obvious in his voice.
Ginny elbowed him. "You can try your hand at Chasing," she winked at him.
George took over the planning with authority. "Three man teams," he decided. "Ginny, it's only fair you play out of position and Keep for one side. Ron, you Keep for the other. Harry, Angelina, you're the Chasers. Bill, how about it? Want to try your hand at Beating for old time's sake?"
"I'm not Charlie but I can hold my own," Bill grinned, standing up. "All right, you lot, let's clear dinner away and get started!"
"Oh, honestly," Molly huffed. "Do try not to break any bones this time. If you do, I swear I'll put you in Ron's old room beneath the ghoul while you mend!"
Bill hugged his mother and laughed. "Mum, the only brooms we have are those old Cleansweeps in the broom shed. We'll probably have to walk them along the ground anyway!"
Thirty minutes later, the entire group had gathered in the clearing in the orchard to watch the friendly game that, hampered as it was by the necessary adjustments to the rules, was nonetheless being played with ferocious intensity. Kingsley Shacklebolt acted as impartial scorekeeper while Arthur stood between Booth and Brennan and explained the rules and the differences in a real match and the version being played in front of them. Beside them, Lily and Hugo whooped and shouted and clapped as the game progressed.
The participants were careful to stay barely 20 feet above the ground but even so, it was a fast-paced and obviously somewhat dangerous game. A mass groan rose from the sidelines when a bludger hit by Bill caught Ginny in the stomach. She doubled over with a whoof! and the quaffle sailed unimpeded through the hoop she guarded, Harry having scored the winning goal.
"Doesn't that hurt?" Booth asked Arthur.
"A bit, yes," he nodded, cheering loudly . "But there are rarely any serious injuries. Mostly broken limbs, the occasional cracked skull. Nothing too horrible."
"We can never let the boys know about this," Brennan murmured to her husband.
"I don't know," he answered, fascinated eyes tracking the action. "It looks like a lot of fun!"
Arthur chuckled knowingly. "Careful, son. Once the Quidditch bug bites, it never lets go!"
"Besides," Ron panted as the rest of the team landed easily among the spectators, "Muggles can't play Quidditch. Stick to that funny shaped ball you Americans play with, mate. You'd just get yourself killed playing with us," he added with a smirk.
"I could beat you," Booth answered, chest puffing out, his competitive nature rising to the bait. "Get me one of those things," he said, pointing to Ron's broom, "and we'll see."
"Booth . . ." Brennan began.
"You can't ride a broom, old man," Ron laughed. "They won't respond to a Muggle."
"So I'll ride with someone. I'll show you old man, kid." He flexed his shoulders instinctively.
"Booth . . ."
"I don't know about you, Bill, but I sense an occasion for a friendly wager." George ignored the daggers being thrown at him through the eyes of both Hermione and Brennan. "Only fair if Ron rides pillion, too, don't you think?"
"Hmmm," Bill answered, considering both men. "I'll take the Yank, to even out the weight a bit, if you'll take Ron."
"Deal." The two brothers shook hands as Hermione spluttered. "But," George continued, "these old Cleansweeps won't do, of course. That one barely held me. Harry . . ."
"Oh, no," Bill interrupted. "You're not riding a Firebolt DX while I'm stuck with my old broom. Nice try."
George smiled with no remorse then snapped his fingers. "How about I borrow a couple of Nimbus 8K from Dusty Brooms? I'm friendly with the owner, he'd be keen for this."
"Done."
"What are you thinking?" Brennan tugged Booth around to face her. "This is a ridiculous display of testosterone driven machismo. This is an unnecessary effort on your part to prove your superior virility and strength in front of a younger man."
"Are you insane?" Hermione yelled at Ron. "What if he falls off? Or gets hit in the head by a bludger? You'll get him killed!"
"Obviously the women-folk hate the idea," George said loudly, interrupting the ongoing argument between both sets of spouses. "So that settles it . . . game on, mates!"
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