The Wedding
“Yes, he sounds a real charmer,” said Hermione, while Harry
roared with laughter.
“Never married, for some reason,” said Ron.
“You amaze me,” said He rmione.
They were all laughing so much that none of them noticed the
latecomer, a dark-haired young man with a large, curved nose and
thick black eyebrows, until he held out his invitation to Ron and
said, with his eyes on Hermione, “You look vunderful.”
“Viktor!” she shrieked, and dropped her small beaded bag,
which made a loud thump quite disproportionate with its size. As
she scrambled, blushing, to pick it up, she said, “I didn’t know you
were—goodness—it’s lovely to see—how are you again?”
Ron’s ears had turned bright red again. After glancing at
Krum’s invitation as if he did not believe a word of it, he said,
much too loudly, “How come you’re here?”
“Fleur invited me,” said Krum, eyebrows raised.
Harry, who had no grudge against Krum, shook hands; then,
feeling that it would be prudent to remove Krum from Ron’s vicin-
ity, offered to show him his seat.
“You friend is not pleased to see me,” said Krum as he entered
the now packed marquee. “Or is he a relative?” he added with a
glance at Harry’s red curly hair.
“Cousin,” Harry muttered, but Krum was not really listening.
His appearance was causing a stir, particularly amongst the veela
cousins: He was, after all, a famous Quidditch player. While people
were still craning their necks to get a good look at him, Ron, Her-
mione, Fred, and George came hurrying down the aisle.
“Time to sit down,” Fred told Harry, “or we’re going to get run
over by the bride.”
Harry, Ron, and Hermione took their seats in the second row
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