"Merlin's beard!" rang out the astonished voice of Seamus Finnigan. "Did you ever see so many owls in your life?"
Indeed, from horizon to horizon in every direction, the sky was a solid mass of flapping wings. Seamus' awe was matched by most of his classmates, though not by the adults. They had seen few such sights, it was true, but two stood out plainly in their minds. The first had been on Halloween, 1981; the second, less than three months ago. Both occasions marked the downfall of Lord Voldemort. And those times, even as this third occasion, were linked by a common thread: Harry Potter.
"Where are they going to land?" someone asked. "They'll bury us!"
Many faces reflected this concern. But not all.
"Filius," Dumbledore said calmly, his eyes bright as they lifted upwards, "if you would assist me?"
Professor Flitwick levitated himself onto the now empty punch table and pointed his wand into the air in imitation of Dumbledore. As the guests craned their necks in wonder, the messages attached to the owls' legs began to rain down in a veritable blizzard of parchment. A few of the younger guests flinched involuntarily, expecting to be smothered by the falling missives. But Dumbledore and Flitwick worked in a seamless tandem. As the Headmaster separated the letters from the owls (all of which instinctively soared away upon being relieved of their burdens), Flitwick's masterful hand sent the letters to spinning as if caught in a whirlwind. A graceful flick of his wrist dispatched them unerringly toward the open space where had stood the magnificent dance floor (since discharged by Professor McGonagall, along with the tree orchestra). The letters neatly assembled themselves into ordered stacks, piled row upon row, each as tall as the point of Dumbledore's hat.
"So many?" Harry gaped, blinking repeatedly to assure himself that it was not an illusion. "I expected...I don't know what I expected...but not this!"
"Be grateful," Dumbledore smiled with delight, "that it is only the witches and wizards of Britain who love you so. Had Voldemort's immediate threat extended to the continent, or to the colonies, we had needed a venue quite as large as the Quidditch World Cup stadium."
But as the neat stacks continued to grow and spread across the lawn, Ron said scornfully, "What, just letters? No presents? Bunch of ruddy cheapskates!"
"And you'd be the expert on that, would you, Ron?" Seamus remarked. Ron's classmates all tittered, though he himself managed only a weak smile.
While this exchange was going on, Dumbledore drew a folded square of parchment from his robes and opened it. He tapped it with his wand, and it stiffened and rose into the air to hover at about the height of Dumbledore's chin. Instantly a number of letters detached themselves from the seemingly endless piles and converged on the square of parchment, stacking themselves thereon as upon a serving tray. When the flurry ended with a stack some twelve inches high, Dumbledore plucked them from the air and presented them to Harry and Hermione. The parchment he kept, extending it for the young marrieds to see.
"This list," he explained, "bears the names of those whom I believed you would treasure most on this day. I was certain that you would want to read and keep these letters above the others."
Harry smiled. Letters from fellow Gryffindors were here, as well as those from other students and various peoples they had befriended over the years. Harry saw Cho Chang's name in her elegant script, as well as the clumsy scrawl of Viktor Krum. A heavily perfumed letter sealed with red wax stamped with the Fleur de Lis could be from no one but Fleur Delacour. But one letter in particular caught Harry's attention, and he opened it mechanically and read it, oblivious to the people around him, including even his wife. He lowered the letter quickly, reaching up to wipe the corner of his eye. In his moment of distraction, Dumbledore very smoothly slipped the letter from Harry's hand and read it. After a moment, he asked, "May I read this aloud, Harry?"
Harry hesitated before a squeeze upon his arm by Hermione's hand compelled him to nod slowly.
"Our congratulations to Harry," Dumbledore read, "and to his beautiful bride. Please know that we have made a contribution in your name to the Cedric Diggory Fund. May your happiness ever be the equal of that which you have brought to the wizarding world. In sincerest gratitude,
"Mr. and Mrs. Amos Diggory."
"What's this Cedric Diggory Fund?" Charlie Weasley asked. "I never heard of it."
"Not surprising," Arthur said, "being as you just got in from Romania. The advert only appeared in the Daily Prophet two days ago."
"It's a fund to help wizarding families who've suffered loss at the hands of You-Know-Who and his lot," Bill explained. "Harry donated half his vault to get it started. I was at Gringotts the day Harry set it up. I'm also an executor."
"Way to go, mate!" Ron declared, cuffing Harry on the arm. "But why didn't you tell me?"
"He told no one," Dumbledore said, folding the letter and handing it back to Harry. "But I thought, at the least, his friends should know the kind of man Harry Potter is."
"There was really nothing to say," Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "It was just something I had to do."
A reverent silence followed Harry's statement, during which Hermione took the letter from him and replaced it on the small pile that now reposed on the seat of a folding chair. None seemed to know how to break that tenuous silence until Molly Weasley burst forth suddenly and wrapped Harry in a tearful hug.
"I won't be able to do this as often as I used to," Molly said, her voice both happy and sad. "As of today, the Grangers are officially your 'parents.' "
Releasing Molly from his own fierce embrace, Harry said with a smile, "I don't think my new wife and family will mind if I pop over now and then for a hug from the best cook in Ottery St. Catchpole."
"I should say not," Mrs Granger put in. "Besides, I'm only his mother-in-law. From what I've seen these last few days, Molly, you and Arthur are as much Harry's parents as his own mother and father would have been. James and Lily couldn't have asked for better for their son than you and your family have given him. If only half of what Hermione's told us is true, Harry wouldn't be quite the man he is today if not for you.
"It's not easy giving a daughter in marriage, especially when she's your only child. So thank you, Molly -- thank all of you -- for giving us a son-in-law worthy of our little girl."
Hermione and Molly began crying at almost the same moment. Molly was immediately comforted by Arthur and the Grangers, while Hermione melted into her new husband's arms. As Harry peered over his wife's shoulder, his eyes caught those of Arthur Weasley, himself similarly engaged in staunching his wife's tears. Harry's smile of gratitude was returned in kind ere the two men restored their spouses to something resembling composure.
As if suddenly eager to dispense with so much rampant emotionalism, the younger guests pressed forward now and began to steer Harry and Hermione toward what was evidently a carefully prepared destination. With but little resistance, the newlyweds allowed themselves to be deposited into a pair of ornate, high-backed chairs that could have passed for thrones. A jostling match then ensued among the foremost as all endeavored to be first to bestow their gifts upon the guests of honor.
Glancing around now in an effort to politely detach himself from the melee, Harry was surprised to see a stack of boxes and parcels, all brightly wrapped, standing to one side. He was certain that there had been nothing but empty lawn there only a minute ago. The mystery was solved when Harry saw Sirius flashing a thumbs-up to Flitwick, whom Harry supposed had just removed a Concealment Charm from the area surrounding the presents. Flitwick bowed, his arms extended with his wand displayed prominently. Harry smiled, realizing that, even after seven years as a practicing wizard, he still took far too much for granted in the magical world. Had Mad-Eye Moody been present, he would have chided, "Constant vigilance, Potter! Constant vigilance!"
But not today such paranoia, Harry thought as he squeezed his wife's hand and smiled so brightly that the sun itself seemed to pale in comparison. Today was his wedding day. Today was the best day of his life!
Before he could bring his errant thoughts to heel, Harry found a package flashing before his eyes (evidently Summoned from the nearby pile), wrapped in white paper and decorated with artificial flowers which appeared to be singing. He lifted a hand to intercept it, but the package bypassed him and deposited itself on Hermione's lap.
"This is for Hermione," Parvati Patil said, her smile a mirror of her sister's as the two stood shoulder-to-shoulder before him. "But I don't think you'll be disappointed."
The box was wide and flat, virtually weightless in Hermione's hands as she lifted it and tore the paper away. The discarded paper, no doubt Charmed by Flitwick, leaped up in an arc and deposited itself in a nearby dustbin.
"Oh, my!" Hermione said breathlessly as she opened the box and withdrew a black lace negligee that was so transparent as to be nearly invisible.
"It's the first of a line Padma and I are developing," Parvati announced. She pointed to an ornate script on the box lid which read, OH, WICKED WITCH! "Mail-order to start," she smiled. "But if things pick up, Fred and George said they think they can get us a good deal on a shop near theirs."
Harry saw Fred and George in the midst of the crowd, their freckled faces shining as they gestured energetically with circled forefingers and thumbs. Harry had the sudden notion that The Weasley twins were going to be seeing a lot of the Patil twins in the not too distant future.
"Its enchanted, of course," Padma said as Hermione continued to caress the wispy fabric. "We devised the Charm ourselves and registered it with the Ministry under the Experimental Charms Act."
"What kind of Charm?" Hermione asked. She was regarding her husband through the gauzy material as Harry looked on with an eagerness Hagrid could not have equaled had he awakened Christmas morning to find a dozen dragon eggs under his tree.
"Well, a Love Charm, of course," Parvati said. "Now that you've touched it, it's bonded to you alone. When you wear it, it gives you complete control over the object of your desire. He'll be your obedient servant. Your slightest wish will be his command."
"Which will differ from every other day exactly how?" Harry said innocently, his chin now resting on Hermione's shoulder so that their cheeks touched. He planted a quick, playful kiss upon the blush quickly spreading across her face. Looking up, he said hopefully, "You, uh, don't suppose we can put off the rest of the presents for a bit? Say, August? August is good for me. How about you, sweetheart?" he said as his eyes rolled over toward Hermione, whose face was now resembling a sunburned tomato.
"You're hopeless!" she said in a hush, her grin bringing his own to the fore in full force. She carefully folded the garment and replaced the box lid. She was about to set the box aside when it rose from her lap and drifted to an open spot to her right, where it settled itself to the ground as light as a feather.
Looking up, Harry saw Professor Flitwick hovering nearby on his floating cushion, the tiny wizard preening like a peacock. Emulating his godfather, Harry gave the Charms professor a thumbs-up. Flitwick bowed smartly, smiling through his mutton chops.
As Harry and Hermione thanked the Patil sisters (Harry quite sincerely and enthusiastically), Lavender Brown approached, her wand out. Employing a Levitating Charm (at which Flitwick nodded approvingly), she was directing a large, flat object wrapped in scarlet foil toward the space before the curious newlyweds. Tall and wide, it put Harry in mind of nothing so much as a door. He remarked on this, adding, "Does this mean your door is always open if Hermione chucks me out, Lavender?"
Laughing, Hermione swatted Harry with the back of her hand, sending his glasses flying. Dean Thomas reached out to catch them, but his hands closed on empty air as the glasses swung around sharply and flew back to Harry, settling onto his face without any fuss.
"When did you learn the Boomerang Charm, Harry," Hermione said, clearly impressed.
"Arthur taught it to me last week," Harry said, winking at the tall, balding redhead as the latter adjusted his own glasses for emphasis.
"Not to worry, dear," Molly announced with a smirk. "I'll teach you the counter-Charm."
Both of them giggling, Harry and Hermione peeled away the red foil wrapping to reveal a magnificent mirror, six feet by three and mounted on a swivel base. It was simple and tasteful, not nearly so ostentatious as the Mirror of Erised. It's simplicity would enable it to match virtually any decor of their future habitation, wherever that might prove to be. But as Hermione regarded her reflection idly (Harry again leaning over her shoulder), Lavender said, "Touch it with your wand, Hermione." Drawing her wand, Hermione touched the glass lightly.
"Beautiful, my dear," the mirror said, surprising Hermione only momentarily, talking mirrors being fairly common in the magical world. "Your robes are very tasteful, not too flashy. The stitching is exquisite. Milan, if I'm not mistaken?
"Now, as to your hair..."
At a quick, prompting glance from Lavender, Hermione touched the mirror again. It fell silent.
"My own creation," Lavender announced proudly. "A personal fashion mirror, Charmed to critique and advise one person only. I activated the Charm just before I wrapped it. When you touched it with your wand, it automatically bonded to your reflection. You have only to tap it with your wand and tell it the occasion for which you're dressing, and it will tell you exactly what to do to make the perfect fashion statement. Someday every home in the wizarding world will have one," she stated confidently.
"I thought you were working for Witch Weekly," Harry said.
"I'm a multi-tasker," Lavender shrugged. "What can I say? I learned from the best, didn't I?" She winked at Hermione, who beamed proudly, encouraged by a squeeze of Harry's hand on her arm.
"The standard model is programmed for witches and wizards only," Lavender went on. "But this is the deluxe model. It's also programmed for Muggle fashions. I used all the latest fashion magazines for reference. And once a year -- for a small fee, of course -- we - that is to say, I -- come over and update the Charm with the very latest fashion news. Cutting edge all the way."
Hermione was looking very thoughtful as Lavender concluded her presentation.
"So," she said, her eyes flicking back and forth between the mirror and her husband, "it always tells the absolute truth? It never, um, fudges?"
"Guaranteed," Lavender said.
Hermione nodded, remembering that the mirror had, indeed, been about to comment on her bushy hair in something less than favorable terms before she stopped it. A sly smile spread across her face as she regarded Harry from the corner of her eye.
"You hear that, Harry? From now on, whenever I ask you for an opinion on how I look, the mirror will tell me if you're being truthful, or if you're just chatting me up so you can get into my knickers."
Lavender hooted with laughter, which was echoed by the younger guests. Even some of the adults chuckled (though a stern-faced Professor McGonagall was not among them).
Harry, assuming an exaggerated demeanor of injury and astonishment, said, "You wound me, love! As if it's my fault that you're the sexiest, most beautiful witch in Britain! And anyway, who are you going to believe, your adoring husband, or a hunk of enchanted glass?"
Unable to resist Harry's puppy-dog eyes, Hermione felt her stern façade crumbling. At length she giggled and hugged Harry to her, whispering a silent, "I love you," into his ear. Thus vindicated, Harry was struck by a sudden thought.
"Hang on. You're up on me two presents to nil so far. Okay, I won't dispute the first one," he said quickly, failing to mask a wolf-like smirk. "But this mirror only works for you. Who's going to tell me when I'm not dressed properly?"
"Blimey, mate!" Dean exclaimed. "What do you think a wife's for?"
This time the laughter was wholesale, with even Minerva McGonagall joining in.
Author's Note: As I mentioned on FanFiction.Net, these remaining chapters represented a roadblock for me for a long time. I knew the wedding would not be complete without presents -- and they had to be MAGICAL presents! Talk about painting oneself into a corner! So be kind, gentle readers. J.K. Rowling I am not, nor ever shall be.
Now, since portkey reviewers ask such thoughtful and intelligent questions ( ^-^ ), I feel it behooves me to answer some of them directly.
quietlylurking: Yes, Harry DID experience Hermione's memories, as stated in the Soul Chamber chapter. I chose to abbreviate the experience to avoid unnecessary wallowing in canon already well-known, but the essence is there.
Purple_Starz: I know exactly how you feel. I always crave as much Harry/Hermione interaction as possible in the stories I read. But from here on, our favorite couple will be the center of attention. Merlin's honor.
enter name: While I might envision Harry and Hermione enjoying the pleasures of connubial bliss, I fear to attempt any description thereof. So many other writers (with greater gifts than mine) have already described such moments in prose beside which mine pales. I do have some ideas for stories involving Harry's and Hermione's newlywed years, and beyond. As the billboards say, Watch This Space.
Your other point is well taken. I'd read that J.K. herself chose Stephen Fry to perform the audio books for U.K. audiences, and I'm keen to test his mettle against Jim Dale. If you or anyone else from "across the pond" would like to exchange copies of the recordings, Fry for Dale, let me know. I think we would both profit from the experience.
nurray: I fear I will never write the Muggle wedding of Harry and Hermione. My mind works best with twisting plots and such. Even this story is a deviation from my normal path.
When I conceived the notion of a second wedding, it was solely to address the Grangers' unease with magical folk. Hence, no wizard guests. Ron must be the exception. The three of them ARE the "Dream Team," as Snape named them. I see them as always being together (J.K.'s sadistic streak in future books notwithstanding), be the venue wizard or Muggle.
Yes, Dumbledore might well have enjoyed the sport of reminding Harry that he is no longer "free" by alluding to his new status as a married man. The Headmaster's most endearing quality might well be that, despite his advanced years, he seems never to have forgotten what it's like to be a schoolboy. May we all be so blessed. But Dumbledore had already stressed to Harry the informality and egalitarianism of magical friendships, so I felt that for him to do a 180 back to formality, even in jest, would be self-defeating. And I likewise felt that Dumbledore's unique position as Speaker entitled him to regard the proceedings as his as much as Harry's and Hermione's. Were this an ordinary wizard wedding, he would not have been so entitled. (And as you have seen, the "guests" in question were themselves a bit unconventional.)
And thank you for taking the time to formulate and pose such pointed questions. Reader involvement is a writer's tea and cakes, and I enjoy what I once described to gal-texter as "verbal tennis" over a story almost as much as writing the story itself.
Again, thanks to everyone who is still following this story. Only seven chapters to go. What new and magical presents
await? There's only one way to find out. See you next time.