Is there a x hp fan here? Just wanted to tell her that she has a private message.
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"To all visitors from Transylvania looking for the head of Voivode Dracula: Yes, we have it. Yes, he's dead. No, you cannot see it. No, he will not return and invade you again. It has been over thirty years, please stop pestering us."
Last edited by Demonic Phoenix on Jul 6th, 2006 at 04:33 AM
the official date of the last time you posted your story was Apr 25th, 2006 08:26 PM.
why cant you update more like iluvhpsomuch1_7. her story is updated a WHOLE lot more. Do you LIKE the riots (i know barker does...)? do you WANT the people to harass you about it? i think you should put a whole lot more time into writing this fic.
Now, I know how it feels to be bombarded with things, but I still find time for these things, like ALL of my fics on MNFF that i need to add chapters to. I think that you ONLY write when you are bored out of your mind, and have nothing else to do
Gender: Male Location: Barkdonald's Inc. OMFGPlulz: dunt
Make up your damn Mind.
Yes, of course he does. He's my lap ****. If I told him to bring me a Pizza, he'd stop everything, Grab a Large Pepperoni, and Take the next flight to Utah, just to make me happy.
Please, be quiet. Just because I communicate with Sauce outside oft this thread, just because We share something in common other than a like of Harry Potter, and just because you're mad about something, doesn't mean you can try (and Fail) to take it out on me.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione found out later in the day that no other members of the Order were expected to arrive at the Burrow until the wedding on Sunday, so as to let the Weasley family relax and prepare for a few days. (This idea was mostly for Mrs. Weasley’s benefit; she had been extremely anxious about the upcoming celebration.) That meant that the next time Harry would have the chance to speak to Professor McGonagall would be amid the festivities.
The next few days passed by in a blur. It was a great feeling to Harry that for this precious time, he need not worry about the tasks ahead of him. However, Sunday morning was upon the Burrow in no time.
Harry was awoken gently by Ginny. “Get up,” she whispered. Harry’s eyes cracked open to see that she was already wearing a soft pink dress. By the looks of it, though, she hadn’t yet done her hair.
Ginny hurried out of the room. Ron, who was in the bed across from Harry, didn’t seem to be in as big a rush. He snorted once, and rolled over.
“Ronald WEASLEY!” came a shrill screech from somewhere downstairs. “Get up NOW!”
Harry chuckled as Ron popped up in bed. “Wha…” he uttered.
“Get up. Your dress robes are waiting for you,” joked Harry, grinning.
Ron sighed and flopped back into the bed.
* * * * *
The wedding was going to take place in the field next to the Burrow. Dozens of chairs had already been placed in rows outside, leaving a space in the middle to act as an aisle. Friends of the family, relatives, some members of the Order, and other witches and wizards from the Ministry gathered and took their seats.
Harry, dressed in new sage-green dress robes, waited with Hermione outside, in the dazzling sunlight. Mrs. Weasley was running about anxiously, taking care of some last minute chores for the wedding. Mr. Weasley was busy entertaining a couple of important-looking witches, presumably from the Ministry, along with the Minister of Magic himself, who seemed to be visibly unimpressed by the whole affair. The twins, on the other hand, were chatting happily with a pair of blonde-haired witches that Harry couldn’t identify, who were pretending to be very interested in Fred and George’s future business plans.
“Ginny told me Charlie is going to be the best man, and Ron will be the only usher,” informed Hermione as they walked over to get seats.
“Only one usher?” asked Harry.
“Right. It’s customary for the youngest son to act as the usher for a wedding in the magical world,” she continued, “Fleur’s sister is the maid of honor, and Ginny’s one of the bridesmaids. I don’t know the other two girls; they’re probably friends of Fleur’s…”
Hermione continued to chatter on about what she knew of the wedding, but somebody else had caught Harry’s eye.
“Hagrid!” he called, waving to the seven-foot-tall giant of a man. He was standing alone, wearing his familiar moleskin suit. He seemed to have been standing alone, unsure of what to do. “Hagrid!” Harry repeated, standing from his seat to gain his attention.
Hagrid turned about, saw Harry, and returned the wave. He made his way through the row of seats to reach Harry and Hermione.
When he arrived at their seats, he was huffing, as if excited or anxious; his eyes looked about mysteriously for a moment, before he motioned for them to sit down.
“Did ya’ hear?” he whispered, after he had sat down with them (the seat groaned under his weight). He glanced around nervously as he spoke.
“What’s this about?” asked Hermione.
Hagrid brought his finger to his lips hastily, motioning to ‘Be quiet.’
“Shh!” he said anxiously. “I shouldn’t be telling you this.”
“Hagrid, enough, just…” began Harry, until he noticed Hermione poke her wand out from the insides of her robes. She muttered something that Harry couldn’t hear, and suddenly, the noises around them evaporated. They didn’t vanish completely, but they were muffled quite a bit, as if they were being heard from underwater.
Hermione looked to Hagrid and gave him a slight nod.
Leaning towards the two of them, the half-giant whispered, “The prisoners in Azkaban escaped!” He spoke sharply, as if to get the most reaction from this statement.
“All of them?” asked Harry, his brow furrowed.
“All of them,” answered Hagrid, shaking his head grimly.
“Of course,” whispered Hermione, “without the Dementors… why hadn’t I thought of it before?”
In truth, Harry had never made the connection either. “Who had been keeping watch?” he asked.
“They had some Aurors in for th’ Dementors. Most of ‘em—the prisoners, I mean—were already gone, mentally. Don’t know much, but I s’pose they overpowered the Aurors somehow,” explained Hagrid, speaking quickly and quietly.
“Hagrid, how do you know all this?” inquired Harry suspiciously.
“And when did you find out? Why haven’t we heard?” demanded Hermione.
“Whoa!” exclaimed Hagrid defensively. “I just found out, through the… the, er…” He hesitated. “Through the Order. It jus’ happened late Thursday night.”
Late Thursday night? Harry thought. That was when I found the memory...
It was true. The past Thursday night was when he had heard somebody Disapparate from the Weasley’s yard, and then found the vial that contained some mystery memory lying innocently in the grass.
“How many? How many escaped?” hissed Hermione with her head bowed, for a growing number of people were taking their seats.
“I dunno the exact number,” replied Hagrid. He suddenly seemed reluctant to stay on the current conversation.
Harry heard Hagrid murmur something that sounded suspiciously similar to ‘Shouldn’t’ve told them,’ before Hermione whispered, “Shh… it’s starting.” Harry noticed a flick of her wand, and the ‘bubble’ that had been encasing them to protect from any eavesdroppers vanished.
A band of stuffy-looking witches began to play odd instruments that filled the air with notes that seemed to linger a few moments after being played.
The wedding had begun.
Harry spotted Ron by a dark oak altar in front of the rows of seats. Next to him was a beaming Charlie, dressed in dark black dress robes. Across from these two stood the Maid of Honor, Gabrielle Delacour, along with the bridesmaids, Ginny and two other girls.
Bill stood behind and to the left of the wide altar, facing the crowd and aisle. From his position, Harry could just about make out the scars left on his face from the encounter he had had with the maniacal werewolf (although not in this form at the time), Fenrir Greyback.
As the last of those standing took their seats, a gray-haired woman in the band struck a high-pitched note that lasted several seconds. The chattering and music stopped. Harry could see Bill fidgeting nervously in the silence that followed.
This quiet lasted for what seemed like minutes before the music started up once again. This time, Harry faintly recognized the tune. It sounded very similar to the Muggles’ own wedding march. A rustling of whispers spread through the crowd. The guests turned in their seats to watch somewhere behind them. Harry followed suit, craning his neck around.
A tall, older man stood next to the beautiful Fleur Delacour. Harry realized it was her father, for his arm was interlocked with hers, very much, again, following Muggle traditions. He had a kind face, with large eyes and a slender nose. He was wearing dark black robes, similar to Bill.
Fleur, on the other hand, was wearing a splendid dress of white interloped with a soft blue. The material it was made out of seemed to shimmer in the air and sun, reflecting different colors in shades of faint sapphire. Her platinum hair was tied up in a magnificent bun, which set atop her head. It was held in place with a fancy silver ornament. Needless to say, she was smiling joyfully.
In Fleur’s father’s free hand, he held his wand. It seemed to have been recently polished, as it gleamed in the midday sun. They stood at attention waiting for the cue, and then…
There were a few softer notes of music played, and finally, they began to walk.
Fleur and her father marched up the center aisle, slowly and to the beat of the music. Fleur’s father kept his wand held out at arm’s length, pointed downwards. He was grinning broadly, as was Fleur; however, a few silent, joyful tears slid down her pink cheeks by the time they had reached a point before the altar. Harry thought he could see Bill visibly shaking, and Mrs. Weasley (who was sitting in the front row next to Mr. Weasley and the twins) was crying freely.
There were a few moments where the band continued to play, but nobody moved. It seemed that even the crowd held bated breath.
Finally, Fleur’s father made his move. He stepped forward, toward the altar, wand held up high. Every movement of his seemed to be done with great care and reverence.
It became obvious to Harry that he was the only one confused about what was going on.
Fleur’s father placed his wand gently on the altar (There was a flat top to it, and Harry noticed later that there was a slight groove in the wood, specifically for wands.), and then backed away, taking a few steps behind Fleur.
“Fleur’s father is showing that he is letting his daughter go with the husband of her choice. He’s giving them his blessing. This is all traditional; I’ve just finished reading the book A Menagerie of Magical Marriages,” whispered Hermione triumphantly, evidently proud to know the meaning of everything that was going on. Harry smiled in spite of himself, wondering what else Hermione could have possibly said to make her sound more like herself.
Without further hesitation, Fleur stepped up to the altar. From Harry’s point of view, she was standing to the right of the altar, while Bill was to the left, across from her (Fleur’s father had since returned to his seat in the first row). There were a few awkward moments where nothing happened.
Then, somebody else from the crowd stood up, although this time, he was unrelated to either family. However, Harry would have recognized the mane of gray-streaked tawny hairy anywhere, not to mention his gated limp and worn walking stick.
Rufus Scrimgeour, better known as the Minister of Magic, made his way down the aisle and around the altar. He stepped up to the dark oak stand and eyed the crowd with familiar keen yellow eyes. Harry thought his smile seemed strangely fake.
Hermione gasped. “He’s doing the wedding?!” she hissed. “I hope Mr. Weasley knows what he’s doing; it’s not exactly the best time to forge alliances that can’t possibly be withheld.”
“What do you mean?” whispered Harry out of the corner of his mouth. Scrimgeour had just begun to unravel a bit of scroll he had pulled out of his robes.
“Think about it, Harry. If the Order and Ministry are making friendships now, that’s only going to make people all the more bitter later, when they’re broken...”
“Why can’t—” began Harry, but he was cut off. The Minister of Magic was speaking.
His voice was gruff, as Harry remembered it, but he sounded more tired, as if he were exhausted. He began, “We are here today to witness the joyful bond that a young man and a young woman have been able to enjoy, even in times that may seem dark and grim. Let us not forget that even in these times, happiness is only as far away as you make it.” Harry snorted and noted that this short speech seemed stale and scripted. “By the power vested in me as Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, I now profess this wizard, Bill Weasley, and this witch, Fleur Delacour, husband, and wife.”
Scrimgeour pulled out his own wand. He waved it once in a wide arc through the air, and a ribbon of electric blue material appeared. He stepped back, and the tube of azure snaked around the couple, eventually encircling them. With a loud crack, it vanished in a shower of white sparks that rained down upon the newly wedded couple.
The spectators burst into applause. Mrs. Weasley smiled broadly as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.
Harry clapped along with the others. He could see Ron and Charlie hugging their brother, followed by Fred, George, and Ginny. When Mr. and Mrs. Weasley joined the family hug, there seemed to be a mass of bobbing red heads by the altar. Only one person was missing…
Harry, Hermione, and Hagrid saw him before the Weasley’s did. He stood a few meters away, unsure of what to do. Harry thought it was the first time he had seen him unsure.
Mrs. Weasley noticed him next. “Well, come on!” he heard her say.
The people in the crowd had, for the most part, already stood, and were now laughing and chatting in their own groups. That meant that Harry, Hermione, and Hagrid were the only ones to observe this slight victory, while meaning something to them.
Percy Weasley, the self-important, stuck up prat, strode over to his brothers, sister, and parents, and joined in on their family hug. It seemed that his wall had finally come down.
Even though he knew it wouldn’t last, Harry couldn’t help but take comfort in this day, for it was so far, undoubtedly, a day of happiness.
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Now that was a long one! And I left it on a warm note. Aren't you all so happy now?
The book was Magical Marriages at first, but I was in the Signature forum at the time, so yeah...
I was actually going to go to the Harry Potter Fiction Discussion thread and ask if anybody knew the "Hagrid-isms", but I forgot. So thank you very much.
But as someone else have already bin telling you, do it more often,,, it is good training for what i think is going to be a good carrier... I actualy think that you are going to be wery much like JK,,,, just do it more often,,, or you will fall,,, remember everyone has (have) (I am from Dk) to chose between what is right, and what is easy,,,,
(Some times i think i am just like Dumbledore (Just ignoring the fackt that he is dead )
KMC Community Forums
Jul 6th, 2006 04:29 AM
MORE MORE !!!
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