The shock of losing Mad-Eye hung over the house in the days that followed; Johnny kept expecting to see him stumping in through the back door like the other Order members, who passed in and out to relay news. Johnny felt that nothing but action would assuage his feelings of guilt and grief and that he and Harry ought to set out on their mission to find and destroy Horcruxes as soon as possible.

"Well, you can't do anything about the-" Ron mouthed the word Horcruxes, "-till Harry is seventeen. He's still got the Trace on him. And we can plan here as well as anywhere, can't we? Or," he dropped his voice to a whisper, "d'you reckon you already know where the You-Know-Whats are?"

"No," Harry and Johnny admitted in unison.

"Hermione's been doing a bit of research though," said Johnny, a fond smile on his face at the mention of his girlfriend. "She said she was saving it for when you got here."

They were sitting at the breakfast table; Mr. Weasley and Bill had just left for work. Mrs. Weasley had gone upstairs to wake Hermione and Ginny, while Fleur had drifted off to take a bath.

"The Trace'll break on the thirty-first," said Harry. "That means we only need to stay here four days. Then we can-"

"Five days," Ron corrected him firmly. "We've got to stay for the wedding. They'll kill us if we miss it."

Johnny understood "they" to mean Fleur and Mrs. Weasley.

"It's one extra day," said Ron, when Johnny looked a bit angry.

"Don't they realise how important-?"

"'Course they don't," said Ron. "They haven't got a clue. And now you mention it, I wanted to talk to you  both about that."

Ron glanced toward the door into the hall to check that Mrs. Weasley wasn't returning yet, then leaned in closer to Harry and Johnny.

"Mum's been trying to get it out of Hermione and me. What we're off to do. She'll try you both next, so brace yourself. Dad and Lupin've both asked as well, but when we said Dumbledore told you not to tell anyone except us, they dropped it. Evelyn is fine with the whole thing, as long as we keep ourselves safe. Not Mum, though. She's determined."

Ron's prediction came true within hours. Shortly before lunch, Mrs. Weasley detached Johnny from the others by asking him to help identify a lone man's sock that she thought might have come out of his rucksack. What she didn't realise, however, was that Johnny didn't arrive with a rucksack. He arrived with nothing but a suit and a dreadful mark on his arm. Once she had him cornered in the tiny scullery off the kitchen, she started.

"Ron and Hermione seem to think that you, Harry and they are dropping out of Hogwarts," she began in a light, casual tone.

"Oh," said Johnny. "Well, yeah. We are."

The mangle turned of its own accord in a corner, wringing out what looked like one of Mr. Weasley's vests.

"May I ask why you are abandoning your education?" said Mrs. Weasley.

"Well, Dumbledore left Harry and I... stuff to do," mumbled Johnny. "Ron and Hermione know about it, and they want to come too."

"What sort of 'stuff'?"

"I'm sorry, I can't-"

"Well, frankly, I think Arthur and I have a right to know, and I'm sure Mr. And Mrs. Granger would agree!" said Mrs. Weasley. Johnny had been afraid of the "concerned parent" attack. He forced himself to look directly into her eyes.

"Dumbledore didn't want anyone else to know, Mrs. Weasley. I'm sorry. Ron and Hermione don't have to come, it's their choice-"

"I don't see that you have to go either!" she snapped, dropping all pretense now. "You're barely of age, any of you! It's utter nonsense, if Dumbledore needed work doing, he had the whole Order at his command! Johnny, you must have misunderstood him. Probably he was telling you something he wanted done, and you took it to mean that he wanted you-"

"I didn't misunderstand," said Johnny flatly. "It's got to be me or Harry."

He handed her back the single sock he was supposed to be identifying, which was patterned with golden bulrushes.

"And that's not mine, I didn't show up with anything."

"Oh, of course not," said Mrs. Weasley with a sudden and rather unnerving return to her casual tone. "I should have realised. Well, Johnny, while we've still got you here, you won't mind helping with the preparations for Bill and Fleur's wedding, will you? There's still so much to do."

"No- I- of course not," said Johnny, disconcerted by this sudden change of subject.

"Sweet of you," she replied, and she smiled as she left the scullery.

From that moment on, Mrs. Weasley kept Johnny, Harry, Ron and Hermione so busy with preparations for the wedding that they hardly had any time to think. The kindest explanation of this behavior would have been that Mrs. Weasley wanted to distract them all from thoughts of Mad-Eye and the terrors of their recent journey. After two days of nonstop cutlery cleaning, of color-matching favors, ribbons, and flowers, of de-gnoming the garden and helping Mrs. Weasley cook vast batches of canaps, however, they started to suspect her of a different motive. All the jobs she handed out seemed to keep him, Harry, Ron, and Hermione away from one another; they hadn't had a chance to speak to one another alone since the first night.

They were often joined by other Order members for dinner now, because the Burrow had replaced number twelve, Grimmauld Place as the headquarters. Mr. Weasley had explained that after the death of Dumbledore, their Secret-Keeper, each of the people to whom Dumbledore had confided Grimmauld Place's location had become a Secret-Keeper in turn.

"And as there are around twenty of us, that greatly dilutes the power of the Fidelius Charm. Twenty times as many opportunities for the Death Eaters to get the secret out of somebody. We can't expect it to hold much longer."

"But surely Snape will have told the Death Eaters the address by now?" asked Harry.

"Well, Mad-Eye set up a couple of curses against Snape in case he turns up there again. We hope they'll be strong enough both to keep him out and to bind his tongue if he tries to talk about the place, but we can't be sure. It would have been insane to keep using the place as headquarters now that its protection has become so shaky."

The kitchen was so crowded that evening it was difficult to maneuver knives and forks. Johnny found himself crammed beside Hermione, sending each other small smiles as their arms brushed against one another/

"No news about Mad-Eye?" Johnny asked Bill.

"Nothing," replied Bill.

They hadn't been able to hold a funeral for Moody, because Evan, Bill and Lupin had failed to recover his body. It had been difficult to know where he might have fallen, given the darkness and the confusion of the battle.

"The Daily Prophet hasn't said a word about him dying or about finding the body," Bill went on. "But that doesn't mean much. It's keeping a lot quiet these days."

"And they still haven't called a hearing about all the underage magic I used escaping the Death Eaters?" Harry called across the table to Mr. Weasley, who shook his head.

"Because they know I had no choice or because they don't want me to tell the world Voldemort attacked me?"

"The latter, I think. Scrimgeour doesn't want to admit that You-Know-Who is as powerful as he is, nor that Azkaban's seen a mass breakout."

"Yeah, why tell the public the truth?" said Johnny, clenching his knife so tightly that the number of scars that littered Johnny's body burned in pain.

"Isn't anyone at the Ministry prepared to stand up to him?" asked Ron angrily.

"Of course, Ron, but people are terrified," Mr. Weasley replied, "terrified that they will be next to disappear, their children the next to be attacked! There are nasty rumors going around; I for one don't believe the Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts resigned. She hasn't been seen for weeks now. Meanwhile Scrimgeour remains shut up in his office all day; I just hope he's working on a plan."

"Um, I know what happened to Professor Burbage," Johnny spoke up, causing all eyes to snap to him. Hermione took ahold of his hand. "You-Know-Who captured her in Diagon Alley in the summer, she was tortured for her beliefs that Muggles weren't so different from us. She pleaded with Snape to help her, but he just sat there and watched as You-Know-Who killed her, and fed her to his snake."

The table was silent as they listened to Johnny recount the story. They watched him shake with fear.

"Merlin," mumbled Mr. Weasley quietly. There was a pause in which Mrs. Weasley magicked the empty plates onto the work surface and served apple tart.

"We must decide 'ow you will be disguised, 'Arry," said Fleur, once everyone had pudding. "For ze wedding," she added, when he looked confused. "Of course, none of our guests are Death Eaters, but we cannot guarantee zat zey will not let something slip after zey 'ave 'ad champagne."

Her eyes glanced at Johnny when she mentioned the word Death Eaters.

"Yes, good point," said Mrs. Weasley from the top of the table where she sat, spectacles perched on the end of her nose, scanning an immense list of jobs that she had scribbled on a very long piece of parchment. "Now, Ron, have you cleaned out your room yet?"

"Why?" exclaimed Ron, slamming his spoon down and glaring at his mother. "Why does my room have to be cleaned out? Harry and I are fine with it the way it is!"

"We are holding your brother's wedding here in a few days' time, young man-"

"And are they getting married in my bedroom?" asked Ron furiously. "No! So why in the name of Merlin's saggy left-"

"Don't talk to your mother like that," said Mr. Weasley firmly. "And do as you're told."

Ron scowled at both his parents, then picked up his spoon and attacked the last few mouthfuls of his apple tart.

"I can help, some of it's my mess." Harry told Ron, but Mrs. Weasley cut across him.

"No, Harry, dear, I'd much rather you helped Arthur much out the chickens, and Hermione, I'd be ever so grateful if you'd change the sheets for Monsieur and Madame Delacour; you know they're arriving at eleven tomorrow morning. Johnny, dear, you'll be helping me cook, I know you're a skilled chef."

It was an awkward two hours, cooking with Mrs. Weasley. There wasn't enough room in the kitchen for the two of them to be bustling about with hit pans and sharp knives, so when Mrs. Weasley disappeared, and Harry entered the house, the two of them quickly rushed up to Ron's bedroom

"I'm doing it, I'm doing-! Oh, it's you," said Ron in relief, as Harry and Johnny entered the room. Ron lay back down on the bed, which he had evidently just vacated. Hermione was sitting in the far corner, Crookshanks and Quorra, at her feet, sorting books, some of which Johnny recognised as his own, into two enormous piles.

"Hi,," she said, as Johnny sat down next to her. He placed a tender kiss to her lips, and she smiled as he pulled away.

"And how did you manage to get away?" Johnny asked her with a grin.

"Oh, Ron's mum forgot that she asked Ginny and me to change the sheets yesterday," said Hermione. She threw Numerology and Grammatica onto one pile and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts onto the other.

"We were just talking about Mad-Eye," Ron told them. "I reckon he might have survived."

"But Bill saw him hit by the Killing Curse," said Johnny bluntly.

"Yeah, but Bill was under attack too," said Ron. "How can he be sure what he saw?"

"Even if the Killing Curse missed, Mad-Eye still fell about a thousand feet," said Hermione, now weighing Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland in her hand.

"He could have used a Shield Charm-"

"Fleur said his wand was blasted out of his hand," said Harry.

"Well, all right, if you want him to be dead," said Ron grumpily, punching his pillow into a more comfortable shape.

"Of course we don't want him to be dead!" said Hermione, looking shocked. "It's dreadful that he's dead! But we're being realistic!"

"The Death Eaters probably tidied up after themselves, that's why no one's found him," said Johnny sadly.

"Yeah," said Harry. "Like Barty Crouch, turned into a bone and buried in Hagrid's front garden. They probably transfigured Moody and stuffed him-"

"Don't!" said Hermione. Startled, Harry looked over just in time to see Johnny burst into tears .

"Oh no," said Harry, struggling to get up from the old camp bed. "Johnny, I wasn't trying to upset-"

"It's okay," Hermione cut Harry off, pulling Johnny into her. She pulled a baby blue handkerchief out of her pocket, and wiped Johnny's tears. "Do you know what he'd say to us if he was here?"

"'C-constant vigilance,'" said Johnny, mopping his eyes.

"That's right," said Ron, nodding. "He'd tell us to learn from what happened to him. And what I've learned is not to trust that cowardly little shit, Mundungus."

Johnny gave a shaky laugh as Hermione leaned forward to pick up two more books. A second later, Ron yelped in pain; Hermione had dropped The Monster of Monsters  and it had broken free from its restraining belt and snapped viciously at Ron's ankle.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Hermione cried as Harry wrenched the book from Ron's leg and retied it shit.

"What are you doing with all those books anyway?" Ron asked, limping back to his bed.

"Just trying to decide which ones to take with us," said Hermione, "When we're looking for the Horcruxes."

"Oh, of course," said Ron, clapping a hand to his forehead. "I forgot we'll be hunting down Voldemort in a mobile library."

"Ha ha," said Hermione, looking down at Spellman's Syllabary. "I wonder... will we need to translate runes? It's possible... I think we'd better take it, to be safe."

She dropped the syllabary onto the larger of the two piles and picked up Hogwarts, A History.

"Do you remember when we first bought this?" Johnny asked, taking the book from Hermione's hand and mindlessly flipping through the pages.

"Our first trip to Diagon Alley," said Hermione, a small smile on her face as she recounted the day almost seven years ago. "The day I met my soulmate."

Johnny smiled, kissing Hermione's head lovingly.

"Listen," said Harry.

He had sat up straight. Johnny, Ron and Hermione looked at him with similar mixtures of resignation and defiance.

"I know you said after Dumbledore's funeral that you wanted to come with Johnny and I," Harry began.

"I missed the funeral?" Johnny asked sadly.

"Here he goes," Ron said ignoring Johnny and rolling his eyes.

"As we knew he would," Hermione sighed, turning back to the books. "You know, I think I will take Hogwarts, A History. Even if we're not going back there, I don't think I'd feel right if I didn't have it with-"

"Listen!" said Harry again.

"No, Harry, you listen," said Hermione. "We're coming with you and Johnny. That was decided months ago- years, really."

"But-"

"Shut up," Johnny advised Harry. "If they want to come, they can come."

"-are you sure you've thought this through?" Harry persisted.

"Let's see," said Hermione, slamming Travels with Trolls onto the discarded pile with a rather fierce look. "I've been packing for days, so we're ready to leave at a moment's notice, which for your information has included doing some pretty difficult magic, not to mention smuggling Mad-Eye's whole stock of Polyjuice Potion right under Ron's mum's nose."

"I've also modified my parents' memories so that they're convinced they're really called Wendell and Monica Wilkins, and that their life's ambition is to move to Australia, which they have now done. That's to make it more difficult for Voldemort to track them down and interrogate them about me- or you, because unfortunately, I've told them quite a bit about you."

"Assuming we survive our hunt for the Horcruxes, Johnny and I will find my Mum and Dad and lift the enchantment. If we don't- well, I think I've cast a good enough charm to keep them safe and happy. Wendell and Monica Wilkins don't know that they've got a daughter, you see."

Hermione's eyes were swimming with tears again. Johnny put his arm around her, and frowned at Harry as though reproaching him for lack of tact.

"I- Hermione, I'm sorry- I didn't-"

"Didn't realise that Ron and I know perfectly well what might happen if we come with you and Johnny? Well, we do. Ron, show Harry what you've done."

"Nah, he's just eaten," said Ron.

"Go on, he needs to know!"

"Oh, all right. Harry, come here. C'mon."

"I'm pissed that fucking ghoul took our room," said Johnny, making Hermione giggle as she rested her head on his shoulder. It was silent between them, Hermione continuing to pile books. "We'll get out of this, you know? We'll find your parents, we'll marry, live in a big house in a foreign country, we'll have children."

Hermione smiled slightly, liking the sound of Johnny's plans, even if they did sound far fetched in this current moment.

"-this a good idea?"

"It is!" said Ron, clearly frustrated that Harry had not grasped the brilliance of the plan. "Look, when we don't turn up at Hogwarts again, everyone's going to think Hermione and I must be with you and Johnny, right? Which means the Death Eaters will go straight for our families to see if they've got information on where you are."

"But hopefully it'll look like I've gone away with Mum and Dad; a lot of Muggle-borns are talking about going into hiding at the moment," said Hermione.

"We can't hide my whole family, it'll look too fishy and they can't all leave their jobs," said Ron. "So we're going to put out the story that I'm seriously ill with spattergroit, which is why I can't go back to school. If anyone comes calling to investigate, Mum or Dad can show them the ghoul in my bed, covered in pustules. Spattergroit's really contagious, so they're not going to want to go near him. It won't matter that he can't say anything, either, because apparently you can't once the fungus has spread to your uvula."

"And your mum and dad are in on this plan?" asked Harry.

"Dad is. He helped Fred and George transform the ghoul. Mum... well, you've seen what she's like. She won't accept we're going till we're gone."

There was silence in the room, broken only by gentle thuds as Hermione continued to throw books onto one pile or the other. Through the silence came the muffled sounds of Mrs. Weasley shouting from four floors below.

"Ginny's probably left a speck of dust on a poxy napkin ring," said Ron. "I dunno why the Delacours have got to come two days before the wedding."

"Fleur's sister's a bridesmaid, she needs to be here for the rehearsal, and she's too young to come on her own," said Hermione, as she pored indecisively over Break with a Banshee.

"Well, guests aren't going to help Mum's stress levels," said Ron.

"What we really need to decide," said Hermione, tossing Defensive Magical Theory into the bin without a second glance and picking up An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, "is where we're going after we leave here. I know you said you wanted to go to Godric's Hollow first, Harry, and I understand why, but... well... shouldn't we make the Horcruxes our priority?"

"If we knew where any of the Horcruxes were, I'd agree with you," said Harry.

"Don't you think there's a possibility that Voldemort's keeping a watch on Godric's Hollow?" Johnny asked, thinking logically. "He might expect you to go back and visit your parents' graves once you're free to go wherever you like?"

"This R.A.B. person," Ron said. "You know, the one who stole the real locket?"

Hermione nodded. Johnny looked utterly confused, but they explained that Harry and Dumbledore found what they believed to be Slytherin's Locket, which Voldemort turned into a Horcrux, but it turned out to be a fake.

"He said in his note he was going to destroy it, didn't he?"

Harry dragged his rucksack toward him and pulled out the fake Horcrux in which R.A.B.'s note was still folded.

"'I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.'" Harry read out.

"Well, what if he did finish it off?" said Johnny.

"Or she." Interposed Hermione.

"Whichever," said Ron, shrugging. "it'd be one less for us to do!"

"Yes, but we're still going to have to try and trace the real locket, aren't we?" said Hermione, "to find out whether or not it's destroyed."

"And once we get hold of it, how do you destroy a Horcrux?" asked Ron.

"Well," said Hermione, "I've been researching that."

"How?" asked Harry. "I didn't think there were any books on Horcruxes in the library?"

"There weren't," said Hermione, who had turned pink. "Dumbledore removed them all, but he- he didn't destroy them."

Johnny sat up straight, wide-eyed.

"How in the name of Merlin's pants have you managed to get your hands on those Horcrux books?" Johnny asked, a smile on his face.

"It- it wasn't stealing!" said Hermione, looking from Johnny, Harry to Ron with a kind of desperation. "They were still library books, even if Dumbledore had taken them off the shelves. Anyway, if he really didn't want anyone to get at them, I'm sure he would have made it much harder to-"

"Get to the point!" said Ron.

"Well... it was easy," said Hermione in a small voice. "I just did a Summoning Charm. You know- Accio. And- they zoomed out of Dumbledore's study window right into the girls' dormitory."

"But when did you do this?" Johnny asked, regarding Hermione with a mixture of admiration and incredulity.

"Just after his- Dumbledore's- funeral," said Hermione in an even smaller voice. "Right after we agreed we'd leave school and go and look for Johnny and the Horcruxes. When I went back upstairs to get my things it- it just occurred to me that the more we knew about them, the better it would be... and I was alone in there... so I tried... and it worked. They flew straight in through the open window and I- I packed them."

She swallowed and then said imploringly, "I can't believe Dumbledore would have been angry, it's not as though we're going to use the information to make a Horcrux, is it?"

"Can you hear us complaining?" said Ron. "Where are these books anyway?"

Hermione rummaged for a moment and then extracted from the pile a large volume, bound in faded black leather. She looked a little nauseated and held it as gingerly as if it were something recently dead.

"This is the one that gives explicit instructions on how to make a Horcrux. Secrets of the Darkest Art- it's a horrible book, really awful, full of evil magic. I wonder when Dumbledore removed it from the library... if he didn't do it until he was headmaster, I bet Voldemort got all the instruction he needed from here."

"Why did he have to ask Slughorn how to make a Horcrux, then, if he'd already read that?" asked Ron.

"He only approached Slughorn to find out what would happen if you split your soul into seven," said Harry. "Dumbledore was sure Riddle already knew how to make a Horcrux by the time he asked Slughorn about them. I think you're right, Hermione, that could easily have been where he got the information."

"And the more I've read about them," said Hermione, "the more horrible they seem, and the less I can believe that he actually made six. It warns in this book how unstable you make the rest of your soul by ripping it, and that's just by making one Horcrux!"

Johnny remembered what Dumbledore had said about Voldemort moving beyond "usual evil."

"Isn't there any way of putting yourself back together?" Ron asked.

"Yes," said Hermione with a hollow smile, "but it would be excruciatingly painful."

"Why? How do you do it?" asked Johnny.

"Remorse," said Hermione. "You've got to really feel what you've done. There's a footnote. Apparently the pain of it can destroy you. I can't see Voldemort attempting it somehow, can you?"

"No," said Ron, before Harry or Johnny could answer. "So does it say how to destroy Horcruxes in that book?"

"Yes," said Hermione, now turning the fragile pages as if examining rotting entrails, "because it warns Dark wizards how strong they have to make the enchantments on them. From all that I've read, what Harry did to Riddle's diary was one of the few really foolproof ways of destroying a Horcrux."

"What, stabbing it with a basilisk fang?" asked Harry.

"Oh well, lucky we've got such a large supply of basilisk fangs, then," said Johnny sarcastically, clapping his hands. "I was wondering what we were going to do with them."

"It doesn't have to be a basilisk fang," said Hermione. "It has to be something so destructive that the Horcrux can't repair itself. Basilisk venom only has one antidote, and it's incredibly rare-"

"-phoenix tears," said Harry, nodding.

"Exactly," said Hermione. "Our problem is that there are very few substances as destructive as basilisk venom, and they're all dangerous to carry around with you. That's a problem we're going to have to solve, though, because ripping, smashing, or crushing a Horcrux won't do the trick. You've got to put it beyond magical repair."

"But even if we wreck the thing it lives in," said Ron, "why can't the bit of soul in it just go and live in something else?"

"Because a Horcrux is the complete opposite of a human being."

Seeing that Johnny, Harry and Ron looked thoroughly confused, Hermione hurried on. "Look, if I picked up a sword right now, Ron, and ran you through with it, I wouldn't damage your soul at all."

"Which would be a real comfort to me, I'm sure," said Ron. Harry and Johnny laughed.

"It should be, actually! But my point is that whatever happens to your body, your soul will survive, untouched," said Hermione. "But it's the other way round with a Horcrux. The fragment of soul inside it depends on its container, its enchanted body, for survival. It can't exist without it."

"That diary sort of died when I stabbed it," said Harry, remembering ink pouring like blood from the punctured pages, and the screams of the piece of Voldemort's soul as it vanished.

"And once the diary was properly destroyed, the bit of soul trapped in it could no longer exist. Ginny tried to get rid of the diary before you did, flushing it away, but obviously it came back good as new."

"Hang on," said Ron, frowning. "The bit of soul in that diary was possessing Ginny, wasn't it? How does that work, then?"

"While the magical container is still intact, the bit of soul inside it can flit in and out of someone if they get too close to the object. I don't mean holding it for too long, it's nothing to do with touching it," she added before Ron could speak. "I mean close emotionally. Ginny poured her heart out into that diary, she made herself incredibly vulnerable. You're in trouble if you get too fond of or dependent on the Horcrux."

"I wonder how Dumbledore destroyed the ring?" said Johnny. "Why didn't we ask him, Harry?"

The silence was shattered as the bedroom door flew open with a wall-shaking crash. Hermione shrieked and dropped Secrets of the Darkest Art; Crookshanks and Quorra streaked under the bed, hissing indignantly; Ron jumped off the bed, skidded on a discarded Chocolate Frog wrapper, and smacked his head on the opposite wall, Harry fell off of his bed; and Johnny instinctively dived for his wand before realising that he was looking up at Mrs. Weasley, whose hair was disheveled and whose face was contorted with rage.

"I'm so sorry to break up this cozy little gathering," she said, her voice trembling. "I'm sure you all need your rest... but there are wedding presents stacked in my room that need sorting out and I was under the impression that you had agreed to help."

"Oh yes," said Hermione, looking terrified as she leapt to her feet, sending books flying in every direction. "we will... we're sorry..."

With a look at Johnny, Harry and Ron, Hermione hurried out of the room after Mrs. Weasley.

"It's like being a house-elf," complained Ron in an undertone, still massaging his head as he, Johnny and Harry followed. "Except without the job satisfaction. The sooner this wedding's over, the happier, I'll be."

"Yeah," said Johnny sarcastically, "then we'll have nothing to do except find Horcruxes... It'll be like a holiday, won't it?"

Ron started to laugh, but at the sight of the enormous pile of wedding presents waiting for them in Mrs. Weasley's room, stopped quite abruptly.

The Delacours arrived the following morning at eleven o' clock. Johnny, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were feeling quite resentful toward Fleur's family by this time; and it was with ill grace that Ron stumped back upstairs to put on matching socks, and Harry attempted to flatten his hair. Once they had all been deemed smart enough, they trooped out into the sunny backyard to await the visitors.

Johnny had never seen the place looking so tidy. The rusty cauldrons and old Wellington boots that usually littered the steps by the back door were gone, replaced by two new Flutterby bushes standing either side of the door in large pots; though there was no breeze, the leaves waved lazily, giving an attractive rippling effect. The chickens had been shut away, the yard had been swept, and the nearby garden had been pruned, plucked, and generally spruced up, although Johnny, who liked it in its overgrown state, thought that it looked rather forlorn without its usual contingent of capering gnomes.

They had lost track of how many security enchantments had been placed upon the Burrow by both the Order and the Ministry; all he knew was that it was no longer possible for anybody to travel by magic directly into the place. Mr. Weasley had therefore gone to meet the Delacours on top of a nearby hill, where they were to arrive by Portkey. The first sound of their approach was an unusually high-pitched laugh, which turned out to be coming from Mr. Weasley, who appeared at the gate moments later, laden with luggage and leading a beautiful blonde woman in long, leaf green robes, who could be Fleur's mother.

"Mama!" cried Fleur, rushing forward to embrace her. "Papa!"

Monsieur Delacour was nowhere near as attractive as his wife; he was a head shorter and extremely plumb, with a little, pointed black beard. However, he looked good-natured. Bouncing towards Mrs. Weasley on high-heeled boots, he kissed her twice on each cheek, leaving her flustered.

"You 'ave been so much trouble," he said in a deep voice. "Fleur tells us you 'ave been working very 'ard."

"Oh, it's been nothing, nothing!" trilled Mrs. Weasley. "No trouble at all!"

Ron relieved his feelings by aiming a kick at a gnome who was peering out from behind one of the new Flutterby bushes.

"Dear lady!" said Monsieur Delacour, still holding Mrs. Weasley's hand between his own two plump ones and beaming. "We are most honored at the approaching union of our two families! Let me present my wife, Apolline."

Madame Delacour glided forward and stooped to kiss Mrs. Weasley too.

"Bonjour," she said. "Your 'usband 'as been telling us such amusing stories!"

Mr. Weasley gave a maniacal laugh; Mrs. Weasley threw him a look, upon which he became immediately silent and assumed an expression appropriate to the sickbed of a close friend.

"And, of course, you 'ave met my leetle daughter, Gabrielle!" said Monsieur Delacour. Gabrielle was Fleur in miniature; eleven years old, with waist-length hair of pure, silvery blonde, she gave Mrs. Weasley a dazzling smile and hugged her, then threw Harry a glowing look, batting her eyelashes. Ginny cleared her throat loudly.

"Well, come in, do!" said Mrs. Weasley brightly, and she ushered the Delacours into the house, with many "No, please!"s and "After you!'s and "Not at all!'s.

The Delacours, it soon transpired, were helpful, pleasant guests. They were pleased with everything and keen to assist with the preparations for the wedding. Monsieur Delacour pronounced everything from the seating plan to the bridesmaids' shoes "Charmant!" Madame Delacour was most accomplished at household spells and had the oven properly cleaned in a trice; Gabrielle followed her elder sister around, trying to assist in any way she could and jabbering away in rapid French.

On the downside, the Burrow wasn't built to accommodate so many people. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were now sleeping in the sitting room, having shouted down Monsieur and Madame Delacour's protests and insisted they take their bedroom. Gabrielle was sleeping with Fleur in Percy's old room, and Bill would be sharing with Charlie, his best man, once Charlie arrived from Romania. Opportunities to make plans together became virtually nonexistent, and it was in desperation that Johnny, Harry, Ron and Hermione took to volunteering to feed the chickens just to escape the overcrowded house.

"But she still won't leave us alone!" snarled Ron, and their second attempt at a meeting in the yard was foiled by the appearance of Mrs. Weasley carrying a large basket of laundry in her arms.

"Oh, good, you've fed the chickens," she called as she approached them. "We'd better shut them away again before the men arrive tomorrow... to put up the tent for the wedding," she explained, pausing to lean against the henhouse. She looked exhausted. "Millamant's Magic Marquees... they're very good. Bill's escorting them.... You'd better stay inside while they're here, Harry. I must say it does complicate organising a wedding, having all these security spells around the place."

"I'm sorry," said Harry humbly.

"Oh, don't be silly, dear!" said Mrs. Weasley at once. "I didn't mean- well, your safety's much more important! Actually, I've been wanting to ask you how you want to celebrate your birthday, Harry. Seventeen, after all, it's an important day..."

"I don't want a fuss," said Harry quickly, envisaging the additional strain this would put on them all. "Really, Mrs. Weasley, just a normal dinner would be fine... It's the day before the wedding..."

"Oh, well, if you're sure, dear. I'll invite Remus, Evan and Tonks, shall I? And how about Hagrid?"

"That'd be great," said Harry. "But please, don't go to loads of trouble."

"Not at all, not at all... It's no trouble...."