I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 545 The Guest Arrives

"Idiot!" Ginny rolled her eyes at Ron. "Cleaning! Cleaning!"

She said, "I also have to busy myself with decorating the garden."

"Oh, right—you all need to dress up differently." She changed to a serious expression. "For the wedding."

"Makeup?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Of course!" Seeing Harry's puzzled look, she added, "We don't have any Death Eaters in our family, but we can't guarantee they won't leak the news after drinking champagne."

Hearing this, Harry thought of Hagrid.

"Okay, is it another compound decoction?"

"Do you have a better idea?" Ginny countered.

"."

Well, Harry had to admit that Compound Soup was indeed the safest option.

Although he prefers to use the Disillusionment Charm.

"Okay, so when exactly is the wedding?"

"Number 30," Ginny said.

"Number 30?"

"The date Dumbledore set was something he and his father had discussed months ago."

"?" Ginny's words left everyone present somewhat puzzled. "Why would Professor Dumbledore get involved in something like this?" Hermione asked, puzzled.

"Exactly—" Harry nodded, "Shouldn't this be a decision made by your parents and Fleur's parents?"

"Merlin knows!" Ginny said. "Who cares? We'll get married someday, no matter when."

"The 30th? I remember Harry's birthday is the 31st. Ron said we should stay at the Burrow an extra day for the wedding, and I thought they were getting married on August 1st," Hermione added, frowning slightly. She suddenly had a feeling that Dumbledore would never get involved in this kind of thing; after all, it was someone else's family matter—could he have some kind of plan?

Thinking about it, the girl couldn't help but look at Owen.

"Irving, do you know why?"

"Me?" Owen shook his head. "Perhaps it's a false alarm spread by Dumbledore? If we hold a grand wedding, it might attract the attention of the Death Eaters? So they announced August 1st, but actually moved it forward by two days?"

"Is that so?" Hermione thought about it. It was indeed a reasonable explanation—but she still felt strange because Moody, Kingsley, and even Mr. Arthur himself could have thought of such a thing. Why involve Dumbledore?

"Alright, that's not an important issue at all. We should go get ready." Ginny waved her hand. "Mom's waiting."

The group got up and hurriedly passed through the Anywhere Door.

In the blink of an eye, we arrived at the humble abode.

In the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley sat in a chair, holding a long roll of parchment.

Upon seeing them, she quickly greeted them.

"Oh—you've come." She looked very happy. However, there was a trace of worry between her brows.

These past few days, she's been constantly complaining that she's been too hasty, too anxious.

Holding a wedding in a humble abode is not a good choice.

She has said more than once that she hopes to find a Muggle cathedral—that would look more formal.

After all, the Delacour family, to which Fleur belongs, is a well-known and prominent family in France, and she didn't want the wedding to look too shabby.

Although Furong herself didn't care.

Of course, the real reason, as Ginny had told them privately, was that Mrs. Weasley seemed to think that most French people were rather mean. She didn't know which magazine this discrimination came from, but that was definitely what she thought.

"Have you had breakfast yet?" Mrs. Weasley asked with concern.

"I've already eaten, Mom!" Ron said. "What is it this time?"

"Alright—" She glanced at the long parchment in her hand. "Ron, you can clean the house now."

"Harry, honey, I'd like you to help Arthur clean the chicken coop. Owen, could you check the storeroom? Arthur's put way too much Muggle stuff in there. Hermione, could you please change the sheets for the Delacours? You know they'll be there at 11 a.m. tomorrow."

As a result, Irving took a look.

Mr. Arthur didn't intend to ask for his help; he was studying Sirius's motorcycle.

I guess they wanted to figure out the function of brake pads.

Since this thing flies in the sky, the brake pads are naturally useless, so he never figured out its function.

He watched from the side for a while and offered some guidance.

He certainly doesn't understand mechanics, but Mr. Biather definitely knows a little more.

For the next few hours, they each performed their duties.

Irving, on the other hand, is enjoying some peace and quiet.

Mr. Arthur assured Mrs. Weasley that he would move all the clutter from the garage by today and that the guests would not find them sloppy.

Owen then went to the vicinity of the Burrow and cast several ancient protective spells using ancient magic as a source.

It may not be of much use, but it's some consolation.

In the afternoon, Mrs. Weasley, amidst her busy schedule, finally had a flash of inspiration and remembered that there seemed to be a Hufflepuff among them.

Always hanging out with Harry and the others, she'd forgotten that Owen was actually a Hufflepuff.

Then, she solemnly gave Owen a task, hoping that he could find some magical plants to plant in the garden and the open space next to the Burrow.

The next day at 11:00 AM.

The Delacour family of three arrived.

The young wizards, dressed in their finest clothes, lined up early in the morning, basking in the sunlight, to greet their guests in the courtyard.

Harry had never seen the yard so tidy. The rusty cauldrons and old rain boots that usually littered the back door steps were gone, replaced by two newly planted vibrating shrubs in large pots, one on each side of the door.

Although there was no wind, the leaves danced lazily, creating a charming, rippling effect. The chickens were all caged, the yard had been swept, and the nearby garden had been trimmed and spruced. But Harry still preferred its rampant, unrestrained growth, feeling it lacked the usual...

The hopping goblins made the place seem strangely deserted. He had lost count of how many security spells the Order of the Phoenix and the Ministry of Magic had cast on the Burrow; he only knew that no one could now directly enter the Burrow using magic.

So Mr. Weasley went up to a nearby hilltop to meet the Delacour family, who arrived there via a portkey. Upon their arrival, the first thing people heard was an unusually high-pitched laugh, which turned out to be Mr. Weasley's.

A moment later he appeared at the door, carrying heavy luggage, and leading a beautiful blonde woman in a leaf-green robe, who was undoubtedly Furong's mother.

"Mom!" Furong cried out, rushing over to hug her. "Dad!"

Mr. Delacour was far less charming than his wife. He was a head shorter than her, stout, and had a small, pointed black mustache. However, he seemed to have a very good temper.

He strode up to Mrs. Weasley in his high-heeled boots and kissed her twice on the cheeks, much to Mrs. Weasley's delight.

"Thank you so much for your help," he said in a deep voice. "Furong told us that you've been working very hard."

"Oh, it's nothing, it's nothing," Mrs. Weasley said, her voice trembling. "It's no trouble at all!"

"My dearest lady!" said Mr. Delacour, beaming, as he placed Mrs. Weasley's hands in his plump hands. "We are deeply honored by the upcoming union of our two families! Please allow me to introduce my wife, Apolline."

Mrs. Delacour walked up lightly and bent down to kiss Mrs. Weasley.

"So charming—" Madame de la Cour said in French.

Then she switched to unfamiliar English, saying, "The stories your husband told us were really interesting!"

Mr. Weasley let out a nervous laugh. Mrs. Weasley gave him a sidelong glance, and he immediately fell silent, his face showing an expression as if he were sitting by a friend's bedside.

The two families were not strangers; in fact, they had met during the most difficult period in the magical world last year, when France was in turmoil.

Furong's sister, Gabrielle, even stayed in the slum for several months.

This is why Furong brought her younger sister over so early.

However, we know each other, but we haven't been in contact for long.

Mrs. Delacour was somewhat surprised by Mr. Arthur's reaction.

Because he was calmer than he had imagined.

Compared to Fleur and her sister, their mother, Madame de la Cour, had a stronger Veela lineage.

After all, her mother was a Veela.

Even though this woman tried her best to conceal her irresistible charm, ordinary wizards could still be easily bewitched by her.

In reality, no one present behaved rudely; everything was normal, as if her charm did not exist.

This aroused Mrs. Delacour's curiosity.

"Needless to say, you've already met my youngest daughter, Gabrielle." Mr. Delacour beckoned, and a girl who looked like a miniature version of Hibiscus ran over. She was eleven years old, with waist-length pure silver hair braided into a plait.

If you look closely, you'll notice that Gabrielle's braiding technique is very familiar, as if you've seen it on someone else before.

Yes—it's Hermione.

During her stay at the Burrow, she spent all her time with Gabrielle. Ginny was originally supposed to take care of her, but after Harry returned to the Burrow, Ginny was completely unable to spare any attention.

After exchanging greetings, the group entered the humble abode amidst laughter.

Mrs. Weasley enthusiastically showed the Delacours everything about the Burrow.

Sometimes, the other person couldn't really understand her English. Fleur was busy preparing her dress, and Gabrielle's English was also halting, so Hermione had to act as a translator.

However, the Delacours were very excited when they saw Hermione.

I kept repeating one word.

Then they chattered on and on, mostly in French.

No one else understood.

"Owen—" Harry turned his head and asked Owen, who was at the very back of the crowd.

"Well, it was the first time in my life I'd met a princess. The British royal family was very interested, and they said some very respectful things!"

Speaking of this—Owen suddenly realized that if he were to marry Miss Granger, the wedding couldn't be held casually. Princesses have their own rules of etiquette, and this matter would have to be discussed with Buckingham Palace.

—As they spoke, the Delacours suddenly turned their gaze to Owen.

The boy, who also had long silver hair, immediately caught Madame de la Cour's attention.

She sensed a similar aura in Irving.

A Veela-like aura.

"Hello!" (in French.) Mrs. Delacour strode over; her husband was chatting happily with the Weasleys. Hermione was right beside her.

"Hello—" Owen replied, knowing in advance why Mrs. Delacour had come, "There shouldn't be any Veela blood in our family."

Perhaps—after all, his mother's bloodline was quite mixed, and his grandmother seemed to want to implant the bloodline of magical creatures into the human body, and ancient magic just happened to have this ability.

"You speak French very well. I'm curious where you studied it?"

"Is it possible that I am French?" Irving asked briefly.

"You're French?" Madame Delacour asked, somewhat surprised. "Oh! I remember you—Fleur mentioned you. I've seen you in the newspapers too—Irving, is that right? You're from the Rozier family."

"Yes—Vinda Rozier is my maternal grandmother."

"."

Upon hearing Wenda's name, Madame de la Cour's face stiffened visibly, her smile vanished, and fear took its place.

Owen sighed, marveling at how infamous her grandmother truly was.

Even French sorceresses like Madame de la Cour, who were several generations younger than her, were deeply afraid of her.

"She's reformed," Irving said. "At least—for now."

"I," Mrs. Delacour offered a forced smile, "I'm just a little surprised that you're that person."

To be honest, Vanda Rozier's reputation has improved considerably in recent years—mainly due to her work at the Rozier Magical Disability Hospital in Paris, where she has treated patients and saved countless lives.

In the past, when the French mentioned her, they would only curse her as a "lackey" and an evil black witch. They would never have had the heart to continue the conversation like they did now.

Originally, Mrs. Delacour was very interested in this silver-haired boy and wanted to learn more about him, but after learning about his relationship with Wenda, she lost that desire to chat.

She smiled politely, said goodbye to Owen, and then returned to her husband's side.

While Harry and Ginny were puzzled by Mrs. Delacour's behavior, they knew more or less some of the rumors about Vynda.

And they are British. There are some questions I cannot answer.

Fortunately, neither of them asked anything.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The Delacours were delightful guests and very helpful to others.

They were very happy with everything and actively helped with the wedding preparations.

From the seating arrangement to the bridesmaids' shoes, Mr. Delacour exclaimed, "So adorable!"

He didn't nitpick at all, nor did he raise any objections, which made Mrs. Weasley more satisfied than she had imagined.

Mrs. Delacour was a master of household magic; in the blink of an eye, she had the oven spotless, greatly reducing everyone's workload.

(End of this chapter)