I stuck my hand out. "I'm Susan Hopkins. Mrs. Weasley is my second cousin once removed."
Ginny -- my mother -- laughed. "I love the name Susan. I'm Ginny Weasley; pleased to meet you," she said, shaking my hand. I marveled at the way she could rally her spirits. If I remembered correctly, my father had just explained to her for the fourth time why he couldn't be with her -- after they'd just had a lovely, romantic morning together.
"I've heard so much about you all, I feel like I know you already," I said to the crowd of . . . children. They were, essentially, children. So was I, but I was used to seeing my mother older and sadder; I was used to seeing Ron and Hermione older and mostly happier. "Molly always sends us a Christmas card with photos and stories about what you all get up to all the time."
All four teenagers looked shifty-eyed for a moment. I saw it and said, "Well. Maybe not ALL the time."
That finally got them laughing, which finally got my father to remember his manners. "Harry Potter," he said gruffly, shaking my hand.
"Nice to meet you," I said, purposefully not mentioning his nickname or the alleged prophecy. Harry had to learn to like me, and quickly. He barely looked at my face for a second before looking down at the floor.
My mother smiled. "He's just shy," she explained, and put one arm gently around his shoulder. Harry looked surprised, but did not shrug her off. For my part, I was mesmerized by the sight of my parents together. They just fit: Ginny radiated joy, and Harry, a sort of calm beatitude. I had never seen my mother so content.
Molly cleared her throat. "Yes, well, Ron? Would you go collect the guests? This photographer is DREADFULLY late, and we need to be assembled when he arrives."
Ron grumbled, but slunk out in search of the bride and groom. Hermione watched him with an odd look on her face as he left, then turned to me. "You know, I've never seen anyone transfer to Hogwarts before. It'll be fascinating, really, to see how they deal with you! Do you think they'll have you wear the Sorting Hat? Do you know about the houses?"
I laughed. "I do, yes. Since I'm part Weasley, I imagine I'll be in Gryffindor. In fact, Ginny, I'd be in your year -- maybe we'll share a dorm!" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Harry's expression grow stormier and stormier. I couldn't tell if he was angry about his impending separation from my mother, or if he was getting suspicious. Knowing Harry -- which I didn't, except through stories -- it was probably both.
Ginny smiled. "I'd love to have some more family around. Fred and George took off year before last to start their joke business, and Ron's going --" She stopped, looking flustered. "That is, Ron will be going after this year. Leaving school, I mean."
"Right," I said, acting as though she'd said nothing out of the ordinary. "I never had any family in America, so I'm quite looking forward to it."
Ron came back in then with Bill and Fleur in tow, the latter of whom was resplendent in traditional white wedding robes and an elaborate silver tiara. She looked exactly the same in my time. Bill looked a bit younger than I'd known him, though the disfiguring scars across his face generally gave him an ageless look. He was wearing black formal robes and a wizard's hat.
"Photo time!" he cried good-naturedly, and ushered his bride to a seat by the window. "Where's this photographer, then?"
"Not yet," his mother said crossly. "Your father's not even here. ARTHUR!!" she bellowed, causing everyone else present to wince.
I heard quick footsteps above stairs, and a moment later Arthur ran in. "Sorry, dear. I got an owl from work about a Mugglebaiting incident near Dover that had to be answered immediately." He looked at Bill and Fleur fondly. "You two are quite the picture. Speaking of which, where's the photographer?"
"Not yet," Molly said wearily. "Does anyone know where Fleur's family is?"
Fleur patted her hair. "My muzzer ees just powdering 'er nose. My fazzer ees waiting to escort her. My Gabrielle --"
But she was cut off there by Gabrielle's entrance. When she saw Fleur in her wedding robes, her face lit up, and she cooed in French. Fleur answered in French, and gathered Gabrielle in her arms. Her parents followed soon after, her mother's half-veela heritage instantly recognizable. I saw Ron swoon a little, and then Hermione scowl terribly in his direction until he noticed.
"Now we just need the boys," Molly fretted.
"Mum!" cried a voice from the hall. I recognized it as either Fred or George. "Mum, there's someone's head in the Floo! He says he can't come take the photographs!!"
Molly went red to the roots of her hair, but I saw my opening. "I'll take the photos, Gr-- Molly. I don't mind at all, if you have a camera."
Bill smiled. "And who are you, young lady?"
Introductions were made to all the family. Charlie was summoned from the backyard (where he'd been setting up tables for the evening's guests) and prevailed upon to lend me his camera. As I arranged the family in a happy huddle, not excluding Dad and Hermione, it suddenly struck me why my mother had sent me to Wizarding photography lessons with Colin Creevey, an old friend. She'd been setting me up for Bill and Fleur's wedding.
I began to wonder what else I'd been prepared for without my knowing.