Victoire Weasley: May 2nd, 2000
Hogwarts was crowded on that day, and it seemed apparent that it would be that way annually for years to come. For the Weasleys in particular, it would be a very busy, hectic day for the rest of their lives, for several reasons: Fred Weasley had died in the Battle and they would come to be related to the hero of the battle, Harry Potter, by marriage.
On this second anniversary, things were already more complicated, and before the day was out, would get a lot worse. Fleur Weasley, the wife of the eldest son, Bill, was due with their first child any day now.
As the big family was eating in the Great Hall, Fleur suddenly bent over, her hand on her stomach. "I feel strange…" she murmured. Bill's eyes widened.
"Her water broke!"
Harry sprang into action. There was thankfully an ambulance outside, for the memorial service just in case anyone got heat stroke and passed out. As Bill supported his in-labor wife, Harry herded the rest of the family outside and to the ambulance. He flashed his badge at the driver.
"Auror Department! I am commandeering this vehicle! It's an emergency! Now move!" Everyone piled in. Harry hot-wired the electrical cables. Sometimes being a bystander to Dudley and his gang's crimes had paid off. A quick levitation spell on the part of Ron, and they were off!
Once they got to St. Mungo's, Harry again need only flash his badge to get Healers to come running. Fleur was wheeled away on a stretcher, with only Bill allowed to follow. The rest waited in the waiting area. After hours, Bill came running back.
"She's here!"
The rest of the family stampeded to Fleur's room. They found her with a pink bundle in her arms, a worn smile on her face.
"Say hello to Victoire!" she beamed with pride.
"Victoire?" asked Ron. "What kind of a name is that?", which earned him a swat from his wife.
"It's French for victory. Honestly, Ronald!" scolded Hermione.
"Eet ees because she was born on a day of victory," Fleur explained. Harry nodded. He could appreciate what she meant, and thought that naming the first Weasley grandchild as such was brilliant. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were crying.
"Bloody hell! I'm a grandpa! When did I get so old?" Mr. Weasley wondered. His family, who had always thought the swearing was Ron's job, looked at him with both bewilderment and amusement.