The morning dawned crisp and clear, the sun bright and warm overhead, and the back garden was already a hive of activity as Hermione hooked the curtain aside and stuck her head up to the window pane, elbows on the sill as she looked down on the bustling frenzy. Mrs Weasley was clearly in charge, standing around fussing and giving orders, and worrying about how things looked, and what Cho's parents would think of it, irritably snapping out, "No, Fred, that goes over there," and "George, I swear to Merlin, if you don't stop acting like such a fool you will be sorry!"