CHAPTER 2: A MAGICAL WEDDING
Surprised by the attire required for the wedding—a plain gray robe devoid of any adornments, paired with a matching pointed wizard hat—Harry found himself intrigued. Ron elucidated that all guests, regardless of gender, adhered to this attire protocol. The emphasis was on spotlighting and celebrating the couple alone. The groom would sport a black robe complemented by a white cord, while the bride would don white attire, with a cord akin to the groom's, only in black. Harry would wear the wizard hat, while the bride could embellish her hair. For Fleur, it was the diadem bestowed upon her by Mrs. Weasley, a cherished family heirloom.
As they readied themselves, descending to the garden where the ceremony was set to unfold, Harry brimmed with anticipation to witness this magical affair. Stepping into the garden, Ginny's gaze immediately locked onto Harry. Clad in a simple robe akin to his own, she bore a melancholic expression that didn't escape his notice.
"Hi, Harry," Ginny greeted softly.
"How are you, Ginny?" Harry replied, the concern evident in his voice.
Their exchange remained brief, the air heavy with unspoken emotions. Each drifted in different directions, their paths rarely intersecting throughout the ceremony.
"Ginny seems to be struggling," someone quietly remarked to Harry. He offered a silent nod in response, acknowledging the shared concern.
Taking their seats for the impending ceremony, a voice from the doorway announced, "The groom is arriving!" Instantly, the assembled guests raised their wands, casting vibrant sparks into the night sky. Harry, caught by surprise, joined in the colorful display, adding his own magical bursts to the mix.
Bill Weasley maneuvered through the gathering, exchanging greetings with each guest. Though the mark of the werewolf attack was still visible on his face, it had notably diminished, leaving only a scar around his eye. His familiar features remained discernible amid the alteration.
Amidst the mesmerizing display of magical lights, Bill ascended a large circular white stone slab, specifically arranged for the occasion in the garden, assuming his position and eagerly awaiting the arrival of the bride.
"The bride has arrived!" echoed the jubilant voices. Fleur made her entrance into the garden, donning a pristine white robe, with the sole adornment being the enigmatic black cord fastened across her chest. Harry observed the matching cord on Bill's attire, except in his case, it was white.
As Fleur glided towards the elevated stone, an eruption of magical flowers filled the air as the attendees raised their wands, showering her with a cascade of petals. Harry prepared to cast sparks but was halted by Ron, who gestured to join in the floral celebration. Following suit, they both joined the flurry of flowers cascading around Fleur.
Behind the radiant bride trailed the bridesmaids—Ginny, Hermione, and another unfamiliar girl. Observing them, Harry tried to place the unknown figure in his memory.
"That's one of Fleur's cousins. If I didn't have eyes for Hermione, I might have something to say," the redhead, recognizing Harry's contemplation, chimed in with a teasing remark.
Fleur ascended the stone platform, joining Bill, and they immediately brandished their wands. In perfect synchrony, they cast a spell on each other's cords, weaving them together into a single entity. The intertwined cords faintly glowed, and in that moment, they spoke in unison.
"An indivisible heart, a single body, one soul! I give myself to you as you do to me! We shall be one being! Forever!"
With these vows resonating in the air, they grasped the cord between their hands, intertwining their fingers and sealing their commitment. To conclude the ritual, they struck the cord with their wands. A fleeting burst of light engulfed the space, and the cord vanished, replaced by rings adorning the fingers of the newlyweds—a testament to the sacred promises exchanged. Gazing at each other, they shared a profound smile before sealing their union with a passionate embrace and kiss.
Harry was surprised by the silence that enveloped the crowd; it seemed as though everyone awaited a cue. Shortly after, Bill gently parted from his radiant bride, their hands clasped, and they turned toward the gathered audience.
"It is our honor to have you all witness our union," Bill began, his voice carrying a deep sense of gratitude and joy.
"If someone steps down or climbs onto the stone before everyone's offered their greetings and the Ministry representative bears witness to the union," Ron explained, his eyes following the levitating board with the scroll held by the official, "it's considered a breach of tradition—a sign of disrespect or lack of acceptance towards the union."
"Disrespect?" Harry inquired, intrigued by the gravity of the tradition.
"Exactly. It's like rejecting their union or showing disregard for the ceremony," Ron clarified. "It's a custom to signify the unity of the couple and the support of the community."
Understanding the importance of the tradition, Harry observed as the guests approached the couple, extending their well-wishes without stepping onto the stone. The festive atmosphere continued, with heartfelt congratulations and jubilant cheers resonating throughout the garden. Harry couldn't help but marvel at the intricacies of wizarding traditions and their deep significance in moments of celebration.
As Harry approached to extend his congratulations, he noticed the familiar faces among the guests—most were either members of the Order or acquaintances from his days at Hogwarts. There were also relatives from both sides and colleagues from Gringotts, assembling to celebrate the union.
Amidst the warm greetings, Bill and Fleur embraced him, their smiles radiating gratitude. "Thank you for everything," they expressed, though Harry couldn't pinpoint precisely what they were thanking him for.
In that moment, Harry recalled Ron's explanation about the tradition of not stepping down from the stone until everyone had greeted the couple and the Ministry representative had witnessed the union. The significance was clear—it was a symbolic gesture of communal acceptance and support.
"It signifies when someone steps down or climbs on the stone, it could mean there's discontent or something to contest in the marriage," Harry murmured to himself, musing over the tradition's gravity.
Amidst the revelry, Harry couldn't help but ponder the deeper meaning behind the customs and the unspoken messages woven into the fabric of wizarding ceremonies.
As the last guest offered their congratulations and returned to their seats, a hush fell over the gathering once more. The Ministry representative, holding the levitating board with the scroll, made their way forward, offering warm felicitations to Bill and Fleur. With a gracious nod, the official presented them with a quill.
One by one, Bill and Fleur signed the scroll, meticulously ensuring their names were inscribed. The Ministry representative meticulously checked the document for accuracy before appending their own signature. With a flick of the wand, the document vanished into thin air.
"I bear witness to the union of both before those present and the magical community!" announced the representative, their voice resounding through the garden.
In a blissful moment, the couple sealed the ceremony with a tender kiss, igniting a chorus of cheers and jubilation among the attendees. With the formalities concluded, Bill and Fleur gracefully stepped down from the stone platform, approaching their families amidst the joyous celebration. The air was filled with laughter, embraces, and heartfelt congratulations as the newlyweds were enveloped in the warmth of their loved ones' embrace.
As the celebration unfolded, the atmosphere buzzed with the familiar joy of a wedding, yet there were distinct magical touches that set it apart. The luncheon, akin to a Muggle wedding feast, had an enchanting twist—the dishes floated gracefully upon the tables, adding a whimsical flair to the affair.
Guests approached Harry, eager to exchange pleasantries and ensure his well-being. He responded with his usual grace, engaging in heartfelt conversations that wove through the air like soft melodies amidst the festivities.
With the tables cleared post-lunch, the space was transformed into a dance floor, beckoning everyone to partake in the jubilant rhythm. The newlyweds took the lead, gliding seamlessly across the floor, and gradually, others joined in, twirling and swaying to the music's enchantment. Hermione, radiant with joy, found herself in her boyfriend's arms, while Ron, not particularly adept at dancing, opted to remain seated beside Harry. Their conversation meandered through topics, a comfortable exchange that felt like reconnecting lost threads from their holiday escapades.
As the night deepened, the tables were once again arrayed for a sumptuous dinner. Yet, just as the meal reached its crescendo, an unexpected twist stirred the air, surprising Harry.
"It's time for the cord," announced someone, sparking Harry's curiosity.
"The Cord? Is it like the Bouquet toss?" Harry inquired, his intrigue piqued.
"Indeed, Harry. Instead of the bride's bouquet, wizards toss a cord resembling the groom's. The twist is, it's the men who attempt to catch it," Hermione explained, observing the color draining from Ron's face. "Though it seems this tradition isn't as popular among wizards as its Muggle counterpart."
The revelation elicited a mixture of amusement and uncertainty among the guests, and Harry couldn't help but chuckle at Ron's reaction while contemplating the peculiar nuances between magical and Muggle customs.
"Why is it called the Cord?" Harry probed further, intrigued by the enchanting twist to this tradition.
"The cord's bewitched not to fall to the ground; it sticks upon contact. Can you guess why it's named the Cord?" Ron explained, a seriousness in his tone.
"Is it meant to last forever?" Harry questioned, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.
"No, only until the groom touches it again," Ron clarified, maintaining his solemnity. "But the belief remains unchanged—the one who catches it supposedly holds the best chance of being the next to wed."
Hermione scoffed lightly, dismissing the notion. "That's just a silly superstition."
"Harry, at my cousin Timothy's wedding, Bill caught the cord," Ron interjected gravely, his expression laden with significance.
Harry felt a twinge of apprehension at Ron's revelation. As Bill readied to toss the cord, unbeknownst to Harry and Ron, Fred and George stealthily positioned themselves behind their friends, concocting a mischievous plan to lift them just enough to ensure one inadvertently caught the cord.
A peculiar sensation at his back alerted Harry, and he subtly signaled his discovery to Ron. Drawing their wands discreetly, they anticipated Bill's toss. In a split second, both Harry and Ron flung themselves to the ground, swiftly pivoting and pointing their wands at the mischievous twins, Fred and George, who stood behind them, caught red-handed in their prankish scheme.
"WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!" Harry and Ron cast in unison, compelling the mischievous twins to levitate upwards.
The cord, as if guided by a mischievous charm of its own, surged toward Fred and George, adhering firmly to both their outstretched arms. Startled by the unexpected turn of events, they exchanged incredulous glances.
"AHHHH!" the twins yelped in unison, their frantic tugs futile in removing the stubborn cord.
Laughter rippled through the gathering, a chorus of amusement echoing around the hall, except for the beleaguered twins and their newly minted girlfriends. The latter watched with a mix of incredulity, amusement, and a touch of exasperation as Fred and George struggled unsuccessfully to rid themselves of the unwelcome attachment.
As the amusement settled and the levitation charm released its grip, the twins descended to the ground, promptly darting toward their elder brother.
"BILL, TAKE IT OFF! Get rid of this thing!" they pleaded urgently, their voices a blend of distress and urgency.
"I understand, but it's tradition," Bill replied, gently removing the cord from their arms and handing it back to them.
"WE DON'T WANT IT! WE DON'T WANT IT!" the twins protested fervently, their terror evident.
Mrs. Weasley, with her maternal concern etched on her face, approached her sons. At the mere sight of their mother's expression, Fred and George clutched the cord as if it were a dire sentence. Amidst the laughter that persisted, they attempted to slip away, hoping to evade notice as they sought solace with their girlfriends. However, the apprehensive glances exchanged between the twins and their partners indicated the trouble they found themselves in—a predicament not easily absolved.
For once, Harry found a moment of solace in the chaotic yet heartwarming scene.
As the festivities continued, gifts for the newlyweds adorned the celebration. Fleur's parents, the Delacour family, presented them with elegant pieces of furniture for their new home, mirroring the generous contributions from the Weasley family. Harry recognized the magnitude of this gift and knew it would signify a significant sacrifice for the Weasleys. Additionally, Mrs. Weasley bestowed upon Fleur a wall clock reminiscent of the one at the Burrow, featuring only two hands—Bill's and Fleur's.
"It's a Weasley tradition; you'll always know how the other is doing," Mrs. Weasley explained, her voice tinged with emotion, on the verge of tears.
As the guests presented their gifts, Harry realized he hadn't contributed one himself.
"Don't fret; we anticipated as much, so the gift's from all three of us," Hermione surmised, intuiting his thoughts.
After the couple received the heartfelt offerings, they bid farewell to their guests, expressing gratitude for sharing in their special day. Making their way to their families, they exchanged warm embraces before clasping hands and vanishing from sight. Ron divulged their planned week-long getaway to the coastal haven of Marseille in France.
With the festivities concluded, guests began their journeys homeward, bidding their adieus to the couple's parents before departing.
Observing the Delacour family, Harry noted their apparent wealth and influence. Yet, their demeanor and conduct differed markedly from other affluent magical families he had encountered—they exuded a familiarity akin to the Weasleys.
Ron shed light on the Delacour family's peculiar status. Despite their prominence and influence in France, they were not held in high esteem within certain circles of magical society. Their adherence to simple customs clashed with the expectations of more influential magical clans, exacerbated by the presence of Banshee blood in their lineage—a detail that didn't concern or bother them in the slightest.
Harry found the connection between the Delacour family and the Weasleys increasingly understandable. Mr. Delacour 's affinity for Muggle artifacts mirrored Mr. Weasley's own fascination.
Gabrielle approached Harry, expressing her gratitude once more for his actions during the Triwizard Tournament. Insisting on introducing him to her parents, she ushered him to meet them. Upon seeing Harry, her parents immediately recognized him. However, rather than treating him as the fabled Boy Who Lived, they embraced him warmly, expressing profound gratitude for his role in safeguarding their two daughters.
Persuaded by Mrs. Weasley, Harry agreed to spend the night at the Burrow. However, the following day, he was due to return to Privet Drive. Mrs. Weasley, deeply concerned for Harry's well-being, wished fervently for him to stay at the Burrow under her watchful eye. Ginny, meanwhile, maintained a noticeable distance from him, avoiding direct conversation and interaction. Her reticence left Harry feeling a mix of confusion and disappointment.
The following morning, Harry journeyed back to Privet Drive, accompanied by Ron, Hermione, Mr. Weasley, and Mundungus Fletcher.
Arriving at his aunt and uncle's residence, Harry bid his friends farewell. As Ron embraced him before departing, he imparted a clandestine warning. "Remember our plan, and don't even entertain the thought of betraying us. You know we'd track you down, and there'd be consequences."
Harry returned the hug, assuring Ron, "Don't worry, betrayal isn't on my radar. Truth be told, I'm rather fond of the idea of having you guys with me."
Once his friends departed, Harry crossed the threshold of the house. He resigned himself to await the appointed day when they would meet again. Until then, his mind remained preoccupied with strategies to vanquish the looming threat to the magical world's serenity—a tranquility he had glimpsed on the faces of those celebrating the joyous union.
In the stifling confines of Privet Drive, Harry found himself in an unsettling contrast to the jubilant celebration he had just left. The air was thick with the familiar scent of polish and the distant drone of the television, a stark departure from the magical warmth he had experienced at the wedding.
He settled into the routine of his mundane surroundings, awaiting the designated time to reunite with his friends. Days stretched on, marked by the ticking of the clock and the distant laughter of neighborhood children. Despite the stifling atmosphere, Harry's determination remained unyielding.
He spent his time meticulously planning, poring over books, refining strategies, and contemplating ways to tackle the impending threat that loomed over the magical world. The memory of the radiant happiness that had painted the faces of the wedding guests served as his beacon of motivation.
In the quiet moments of introspection, he pondered the significance of happiness, marveling at the glimpses he had witnessed on the day of the celebration. It fueled his resolve, reminding him of the stakes at hand—the preservation of that very joy, that undeniable spark of happiness that deserved to endure beyond the dark shadows that threatened to engulf it.
Despite the mundane trappings of Privet Drive, Harry's mind buzzed with plans and strategies. The countdown to the fateful day of reunion with his friends became both a solace and a beacon of hope in the monotonous existence he endured.
With each passing day, his determination grew stronger, fueled by the memory of the joyous faces at the wedding, propelling him forward toward the impending battle, armed not only with spells and tactics but with a fervent desire to safeguard the happiness he had witnessed and cherished.
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