I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 547 During the Wedding

While talking to Harry.

Luna was gazing dreamily at the magical plants inside the tent behind him.

Before you know it, a bold goblin suddenly runs over.

He bit Luna.

The little creature didn't have any sharp teeth or claws; it only left a shallow wound on one of Luna's fingers.

"Dad, look—a goblin bit me!"

"Fantastic!" Mr. Lovegood, who was talking with the other wizards, immediately turned around, grabbed Luna's outstretched finger, and examined the wound carefully. "Luna, my dear, if you feel a sudden burst of talent today—perhaps a sudden urge to sing opera, to recite in the language of mermaids—don't suppress it. That may very well be a talent bestowed upon you by the Engineer Spirit!"

He said loudly.

Harry immediately understood why Luna was acting strangely.

With a father like that, how could a girl possibly be normal?

But—through his interactions with Luna and Owen, Harry was able to discern some of the true meaning behind these rumors.

Mr. Lovegood's portrayal of an injury as a gift, his transformation of tragedy into something beautiful, this paradoxical language may have originated from Luna's mother, Pandora Lovegood, the remarkable witch who enjoyed experimenting with spells. Around 1990, one of her experiments went wrong, and she was killed in front of Luna.

Luna was only nine years old at the time.

For a father

Explaining death to his nine-year-old daughter became the most important thing.

Mr. Lovegood, with his masterful imagination, wove a fantastical world, transforming tragedy into beauty, thus preventing the young girl from succumbing to darkness and becoming an Obscurial. He was undoubtedly great. In some respects, his intelligence was even comparable to Dumbledore's.

Even Dumbledore couldn't turn death into a gnat, a harassing fly, or a fire spirit.

"Do we need to put something on the wound?" Harry asked with concern.

“Oh—it’s alright,” Luna said, sucking her finger as if in a daze, looking Harry up and down. “You look really good. I told Dad most people would probably wear formal gowns, but he believes you should wear sun-colored clothes to a wedding, for good luck, you know.”

She followed her father, feeling light and carefree.

Ron appeared, an elderly witch clinging tightly to his arm. The old witch had a hooked nose, red-rimmed eyes, and a pink feathered hat, making her look exactly like a grumpy flamingo.

"Good heavens, is that Xenophilius Lovegood? I can't believe what he's wearing, he looks like an omelet. Who are you?" she shouted at Harry.

"Oh! Aunt Muriel, this is our cousin Barney."

"The Weasleys again?" Aunt Muriel said, giving Ron a suspicious look. Ron, who was disguised as another Weasley member, also had red hair. "You reproduce like goblins."

"I was just teaching the bride how to wear my tiara to look her best," she exclaimed to Harry. "It's goblin-made, you know? It's been passed down in our family for centuries. I heard it's a relic of Shani, anyway, it's an antique."

She shut her mouth; talking about Shani was something she couldn't bring herself to discuss, so she changed the subject, saying, "She's a pretty girl, but she's—French, after all. A hundred years ago, I certainly wouldn't have agreed to this marriage. Alright, get me a good seat; I'm 107 years old. I'd better not stand for too long."

Ron frowned but didn't say anything.

He led his great-aunt into the tent.

After about ten minutes, Harry led in a dozen more guests, and finally, the continuous stream of guests had been almost all received.

"Aunt Muriel is a nightmare!" Ron and Harry slacked off at the foot of the flowerbed outside the tent. "She used to come every Christmas. Then, thank goodness, she got angry because Fred and George put a dung ball under her chair while they were eating. Dad always says she won't bequeath them anything in her will—they don't care anyway. Grandpa doesn't like his sister either. Before that, because of Shani—oh—the Hufflepuff's final resting place, that ancient magical heir from our family."

He had a big argument with his great-aunt.

My great-aunt is fond of conspiracy theories and easily believes them. If she tells you about things from the past, they're probably all lies.

"And what about your grandfather? Didn't Mr. Septimus attend the wedding?"

"He's very old. He's 110 years old," Ron said. "His parents invited him, but he didn't want to move. He's not in England."

As he spoke, he suddenly stopped and looked in the direction of the humble dwelling.

Hermione was carrying something and was hurrying towards them.

You look fantastic.

"Hmm—very beautiful," Harry said. "But why aren't you wearing the outfit Owen gave you?"

"How strange," Hermione said with a smile. She was now disguised as an unfamiliar witch, publicly known as Fleur's friend, a Frenchwoman.

Bill said that this witch was a member of the Federation and had once been their comrade-in-arms.

She wore a flowing light purple dress and matching high heels, her hair smooth and silky. "This isn't who I really look like. Are you praising me, or praising this person?" She pointed to herself.

"By the way, where's Irving? I've been looking for him from the third-floor window for ages—"

"Don't even mention it," Harry said immediately, his face falling. "He must have gone off there to slack off."

“Yes! He didn’t drink the Polyjuice Potion—we didn’t have much,” Ron said. “He and Koyatl used the Disillusionment Charm. They can become whoever they want. Among so many people, probably only Merlin could tell them apart.”

“Okay,” Hermione said. “When I went to deliver the headdress to Fleur, I saw a strange wizard. He was wearing a hood and looked very mysterious. I said something to Bill, and in the blink of an eye, he was gone. I guess he was either Owen or Koyatl in disguise.”

"There's no way to find them now," Harry said. "Or could you go look for Sirocco? Or have Bakal go look for them?"

He pointed to Barker in Hermione's arms.

Magical creatures are always different from wizards; they have better ways.

"Maybe we can give it a try," Hermione said.

Then she woke the dragon that was sleeping in her arms. She held it up and muttered a few words.

Then, Bakal opened its sleepy eyes, flapped its wings, and flew towards the tent.

The three of them immediately followed.

Finally, they stopped behind Fred and George.

Bakal landed on the head of a girl with delicate features.

Short, glossy brown hair; his right eye, with its golden iris, was slightly open.

She was dressed in very old witch costumes, with leather braces around her waist, legs, and wrists, and wearing travel boots.

He was wrapped in a long black robe.

"You—" Ron recognized the figure at a glance.

He will never forget it.

Harry looked completely shocked.

Meanwhile, Irving, who was deep in thought, also noticed the person who had come to his side.

He looked up at the three unfamiliar wizards. "Do it."

"It's just an illusion spell, nothing more than a facade."

The three of them were taken aback for a moment, then sat down around him.

"What is this—" Hermione blushed as she noticed that the 'girl' in front of her bore a resemblance to her original appearance.

Irving glanced at her and said, "I can't just make things up out of thin air."

Okay, he wasn't made up out of thin air; this character belongs to a girl named Melina.

The other person also had short, fluffy hair, bearing a resemblance to Hermione.

Perhaps his creations unknowingly drew Hermione closer to him.

"Shh—it's about to begin," Owen said, looking at Hermione who seemed hesitant to speak.

The warm tent was filled with tense anticipation, the buzzing of conversation occasionally interrupted by bursts of excited laughter. The Weasleys walked slowly down the aisle, smiling and waving to their relatives. Mrs. Weasley wore a brand-new purple robe and a matching hat.

A moment later, Bill and Charlie stood in front of the large tent, both dressed in formal robes with large white roses tucked into their buttonholes.

Fred whistled provocatively, and the Veela cousins ​​burst into laughter.

Then music started playing, seemingly coming from the golden balloons, and the crowd quieted down.

"Oh—" Hermione said, turning around in her seat and looking towards the entrance.

As the others turned and saw Mr. Delacour and Fleur walking down the passage, the wizards gathered in the tents all sighed in unison.

Hibiscus moved with a light step, while Mr. Delacour skipped and jumped, his face beaming with smiles.

He held Furong's hand; Furong was wearing a very simple white dress, and her whole body seemed to radiate a strong silver light.

Normally, she is so radiant that she makes others pale in comparison, but today, the silver light makes everyone even more beautiful.

Ginny and Gabrielle were both wearing golden yellow dresses and looked even prettier than usual.

However, compared to Furong, the two of them became mere foils, only making them seem cute.

At this moment, beauty becomes the exclusive term for Furong.

Under the watchful eyes of everyone, Fleur walked up to Bill.

Suddenly, Bill became radiant, and all the scars he had sustained in the battle at Hogwarts at the end of the previous semester disappeared.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said a somewhat monotonous voice, to a short, thick-haired wizard who stood before Bill and Fleur, "we gather here today to celebrate the union of two faithful souls..."

“Yes, my headdress makes her look even prettier,” Aunt Muriel whispered, “but I must say, Ginny’s dress has too low an opening.”

Ginny turned her head and smiled, winked at Harry, and then quickly faced forward again.

Owen noticed that Harry, who was sitting next to him, immediately turned red.

At this moment, Hermione also took his arm with a hint of excitement; the most crucial moment was about to arrive.

"William Arthur Weasley, do you take Fleur Isabelle Delacour to be your wife? Regardless."

"I do!" Bill said in a loud voice.

"Herself Isabelle Delacour, do you take William Arthur Weasley to be your husband?"

"I do!"

"...I hereby declare you two husband and wife." The thick-haired wizard waved his wand high above Bill and Fleur's heads, and a shower of silver stars fell upon them, swirling around their tightly embracing bodies. Fred and George led the applause and cheers, and golden balloons above their heads burst open: birds of paradise and little golden bells flew out and floated in mid-air, adding the sounds of birdsong and bells to the clamor of the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" the thick-haired wizard called out, "Please stand!"

Everyone stood up, and Aunt Muriel muttered a few complaints.

The wizard waved his wand again, and all the seats rose gracefully into the air. The canvas of the large tent disappeared, and they stood under a canopy supported by golden pillars, looking out over sun-drenched orchards and the surrounding countryside—a truly beautiful sight.

Then, a pool of molten gold spread out from the center of the tent, forming a glittering dance floor. The chairs that had been floating in mid-air automatically gathered around the small tables covered with white tablecloths, and together they floated gracefully back to the ground around the dance floor. The band, dressed in golden shirts, walked in unison toward the stage.

"Absolutely amazing," Ron exclaimed. Waitstaff appeared from all directions, some carrying silver trays laden with pumpkin juice, butterbeer, and flambéed whiskey; others carrying piles of rickety pies and sandwiches.

"We should go over and congratulate them!" Hermione said, standing on tiptoe to watch Bill and Fleur disappear into the crowd of well-wishers.

"No rush," Ron said, peering around cautiously, trying to spot Koyatl.

However, there were too many unfamiliar wizards.

He couldn't recognize them all, so he couldn't confirm that the one was Koyatl.

"The process is rather simple," Irving said.

"Of course," Hermione said. "The current situation can't support all that red tape."

"It's a pity I only realized yesterday that if we had a wedding, it would be quite a hassle," Owen said, looking at the little witch. "Buckingham Palace will definitely make it a grand affair; it's a friendly gesture, and they'll do it anyway."

Hermione paused, her cheeks flushing again, but she realized that Owen was right.

When she accepted the title of princess, some things were no longer in her control.

Political matters must outweigh her wishes.

Harry grabbed four butterbeers from a tray passing by, handed one to the others, and said, "Um, I'll go now."

Ron saw Ginny waving in their direction.

His expression was somewhat displeased.

He didn't say anything, picked up his beer, and got up to leave.

Fred and George had already left.

They were going to prepare for the ball.

Those French girls are their target. Sitting here is just a waste of opportunity.

Owen and Hermione—for some reason—he seemed to spot an acquaintance in the crowd.

It was strange—a peculiar emotion welled up inside me.

Although Irving wasn't sure, he had a feeling that the person was Dumbledore.

(End of this chapter)