Three o'clock the day of the wedding found Charlie, Harry, Ron, Fred, and George standing outside the great white marquee in the orchard, awaiting the arrival of the wedding guests.
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Harry had taken a large dose of Polyjuice Potion and was now the double of a red-headed muggle boy from the local village, Ottery St. Catchpole, from whom Fred had stolen hairs using a summoning charm. The plan was to introduce Harry as 'Cousin Barney' and trust to the great number of Weasley relatives to camouflage him.
All five of them were clutching seating plans, so that they could help show people to the right seats. A host of white-robed waiters had arrived an hour earlier, along with a golden-jacketed band, and all of these wizards were currently sitting a short distance away under a tree; Harry could see a blue haze of pipe smoke issuing from the spot.
Behind Charlie, the entrance to the marquee revealed rows and rows of fragile golden chairs set on either side of a long purple carpet. The supporting poles were entwined with white and gold flowers. Fred and George had fastened an enormous bunch of golden balloons over the exact point where Bill and Fleur would shortly become husband and wife.
Outside, butterflies and bees were hovering lazily over the grass and hedgerow. Harry was rather uncomfortable. The muggle boy whose appearance he was affecting was slightly fatter than him, and his dress robes felt hot and tight in the full glare of a summer's day.
"When I get married," said Fred, tugging at the collar of his own robes, "I won't be bothering with any of this nonsense. You can all wear what you like, and I'll put a full body-bind curse on Mum until it's all over."
"She wasn't too bad this morning, considering," shrugged George, looking over his shoulder. "Cried a bit about Percy not being here, but who wants him? Oh blimey, brace yourselves — here they come, look."
Brightly coloured figures were appearing, one by one, out of nowhere at the distant boundary of the yard. Within minutes a procession had formed, which began to snake its way up through the garden toward the marquee. Exotic flowers and bewitched birds fluttered on the witches' hats, while precious gems glittered from many of the wizards' cravats; a hum of excited chatter grew louder and louder, drowning the sound of the bees as the crowd approached the tent.
"Excellent, I think I see a few veela cousins," grinned George, craning his neck for a better look. "They'll need help understanding our English customs, I'll look after them..."
"Not so fast, Your Holeyness," said Fred, and darting past the gaggle of middle-aged witches heading the procession, he said, "Here — permettez-moi to assister vous," to a pair of pretty French girls, who giggled and allowed him to escort them inside. George was left to deal with the middle-aged witches, Ron took charge of his distant relatives, and Charlie dealt with Mr. Weasley's old Ministry colleagues, while a rather deaf old couple fell to Harry's lot.
